married cowboys. Truly, such was democracy; the rest of the world talked of it, but never would understand it.
Only one unpleasant incident occurred, and she did not recognize it as such at the time. An Indian in cowboy costume walked past her twice, surveying her with the impassive curiosity of his race, and the second time he spoke to her.
"You marry Tom McNair?"
"I am Mrs. McNair. Yes."
He smiled a little and Tom, coming out at that moment, swung toward him and confronted him.
"You keep away from that lady," he said menacingly, "and put all the distance you can between me and you, or"
The Indian moved away.
In the intervals Kay's thoughts wandered back to her people. What were they thinking? Or doing? She could not let them know yet; there would be scenes, trouble of all sorts. Already she knew that Tom would resent any attempt at interference, might even be violent with them. That night, just before the train left, she would send a telegram, but until then she dared not risk it.
The afternoon passed somehow. She had checked a suitcase at the railway station, and she sent a messenger for it. She was afraid to go herself. And later on it was taken to the train. At six o'clock she ate her supper in the tent. She was accustomed to her paper napkin by that time, to the narrowness of the board seat she sat on, to having her food set before her in small dishes, heavy and unbreakable. The news of Tom's marriage had spread about, and after the meal people gathered about them. Only the girls remained aloof, watching and discussing her. The older women were maternal and solicitous; they asked no questions, and she soon realized that her identity was a matter of no interest to them. They were prepared to accept her, a newcomer from an outer world infinitely remote.
"You mustn't wear pretty shoes like that around. You'll soon spoil them, my dear."
If, by her manner and the quiet expensiveness of her
