Perhaps “town” would be dignifying Eagles beyond its merits. There was a main street, consisting of two restaurants, a post-office, six stores and the railroad station. A little way down the track was a large corral, used as a temporary retention place for dealers who sent their steers to this point to be shipped. Often there would be a delay of a day or more before sufficient cattle cars would arrive at Eagles. It was the cattle that brought the station; the station brought the town, and the town brought all sorts of things, one of which was now leaning against the front of Rimor’s Place, hat pulled low over his face, smoke from an invisible cigarette drifting lazily about his head. Rimor’s Place was one of the two restaurants, although as an eating house it failed to qualify. Yet its habitues were never heard to complain of the quality of its food. The “hard-stuff” was good. “There’s a tough-looking baby,” Teddy said in a low voice, nodding toward the figure of the man outside of Rimor’s. “Seems like his breakfast had soured on him.” “It’s a rare bunch that hangs out at Duck Rimor’s,” Roy replied. “They ought to close that place. Slim Dery’s restaurant is enough for Eagles,” he declared emphatically. A short time later the brothers again stood on the station platform, eagerly watching for the express from the city. It pulled in, and a tall, well set-up man of perhaps fifty-five alighted. He wore a heavy dark mustache, and beneath his broad sombrero his black hair was here and there tinged with gray. As his foot struck the platform he reached in his pocket, and by the time Roy and Teddy had greeted him, a corncob pipe reposed in the corner of his mouth. “Hello there, Roy and Teddy! The two sons of the prairie come to meet their father, who has been far away in the land of the snicker-snackers! Greetings! Boys, I’ve got a surprise for you.” “What is it, Dad?” Roy asked, grinning at his father. “A whiffletree, hey, Dad?” Teddy inquired. “No, not a whiffletree. Nor a wham-wicker either. Behold! Nell and Ethel, allow me to present my two dutiful sons, Roy and Teddy. Pardon me, Theodore! Boys, this is Nell Willis, and this Ethel Carew. They’re Peter Ball’s nieces.” The boys now saw two young girls, of about their own age, who had just stepped from the train to the platform. Small hats were set over piquant faces; laughing eyes looked into those of Roy and Teddy. Somewhat in a daze, the boys acknowledged the introduction. “Yes,” went on Mr. Manley, tamping the tobacco gently down into his pipe, “they’re Peter Ball’s nieces from New York, goin’ to visit the 8 X 8. Met ’em on the train. I used to know ’em a long time ago--” applying a match to the pipe--“but they wouldn’t remember me. I want ’em both to come over and see your sister, Belle Ada,” he explained to the boys. “Golly, it’s good to be back again!” Thereat, with a contented sigh, he blew out a huge cloud of fragrant smoke.