"Tom. I'll have 'em for you—I'll put the order through right now."
"While you're orderin', order an engine and crew to be ready by midnight to start with that train for Kansas City. Just put that in your order while you're orderin'. I'll wait here till you're through, you're such a forgetful feller."
Windy Moore's train was down in the yards, changing engines and crews. The business had proceeded to that stage where it could be carried to completion without Windy's presence, which very likely was not altogether as essential as he believed it to be, and Windy himself was coming up the station platform with his rubber coat across his arm, his lantern in his hand. He was grimy and dusty from the long run, and proud of his state. He saw Tom standing at the ticket window as he passed, and turned to get the news.
"Ain't leavin' town, are you Tom?" he inquired.
"No, I'm just shippin' out a little bunch of cows," Tom replied, easy and friendly in his way, yet with something different about him, as Windy Moore sensed; something of sureness, largeness, it might be said, as of a man who had come back to his own proper estate after reverses.
Windy's eyes enlarged; he looked Tom over, not doubting his word, but unable to get it just in the spot 'where his head would take it in.
"You been buyin' up some stock, Tom?"
"No, not precisely buyin', Mr. Moore. I've been re-
