He could handle this thing. The adventure would have appealed to Ernest even if the girl had not been involved, and even if she had not been pretty.

He would require a gun, along with the cowboy clothes he had planned to purchase. Thrilled at the prospect he sallied forth to find the store to which he had been directed.

When Ernest entered the store he was surprised to see that the establishment would have done credit to a much larger city. He strolled from the dry goods department into the grocery, from that to the hardware, and thence to the saddle and harness section. This ought to be close to where he could supply his needs. It was a pretty busy place. Finally a clerk accosted him, and the Iowan replied: “Plain cowboy outfit.”

It did not take long to purchase what he wanted. The clerk evidently suspected that his customer was a tenderfoot, which hurried Ernest into additional purchases of chaps, scarves, blanket, and finally gun, belt and shells.

The last thing Selby desired was to excite curiosity; and in his hurry to escape from the store with his large bundle he turned a corner so fast that he collided with someone on the sidewalk. It was a girl, and the collision staggered her a little, so that in stepping backward she sat down rather breathlessly upon some grain sacks. To his horror he recognized her to be the Hepford girl. Her beautiful green eyes were certainly now regarding him with undisguised annoyance. She sat there with face flushed, angrily adjusting her hat.

“I–I beg your pardon,” stammered Ernest. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m very awkward. Are you all right?”

She stood up and shot him a glance that sent the color to his face. As she passed Ernest saw a spot of rich red under the clear brown of her own cheek. His first impulse was to follow her and explain that even his genuine admiration for a pretty girl would not lead him to the extreme of purposely colliding with her. But he decided against it.

Ernest went back to the hotel, got a room, and changing his clothes for the cowboy garb, was so pleased with himself that he quite forgot his embarrassing encounter. Rough garments became him. The effect was not too dudish. He decided he had better leave off the spurs until he had taken a few lessons in walking with them. If he kept them on, he certainly would be bound to stumble and give himself away. The gun was big and heavy. He loaded it and stuck it in his hip pocket. Packing up, he sallied forth to where he had been directed to find the stage. There he was to learn that despite his pessimistic cowboy informant, the stage was to depart in a few minutes.

The vehicle looked to Ernest like a very large spring wagon, with four wide seats behind the driver’s seat, and a top with rolled curtains, which evidently were to be let down in inclement weather. Two well-matched teams were hitched to it, and they seemed impatient to be off.

“Whar you goin’, cowboy?” inquired the driver, a weather-beaten man of fifty, with twinkling blue eyes.

“Springertown,” answered Selby, as laconically as he was able. He took considerable satisfaction at being taken for a cowboy.

“Ten–in advance,” demanded the driver bluntly, implying no question as to his experience with range gentry.

“Ten what?” inquired Ernest.

“Say, boy, air you advertisin’ the Kansas plains?” queried the stage driver in real or assumed amaze. “Ten bucks. Simoleons! Cartwheels! Pesos! Otherwise good old U.S.