Bat Wing Bowles. Coolidge Dane

do – "

      "Oh, my dear Miss Lee," protested Mr. Bowles, "you have quite a mistaken idea, I assure you. Really, now, I hope you give me credit for more discretion than that. The fact is, I have an old college friend on a ranch in California and, though I have not taken my aunt entirely into confidence, I am really going out to make him a visit. It's all very well, you know, to read about sunsets in Wordsworth, but why not go out into the Far West and see the sun set indeed? That's what I say, but of course I would not offend her – she simply thinks my health is failing and I need a Western trip."

      "Oh!" said Dixie Lee quietly. "So you've got an aunt, too, eh? What did you say her name was?"

      "Why, Mrs. – er – Bowles!"

      "But why Mrs. Er-Bowles?" queried Dixie May, relentlessly. "Why not Mrs. Bowles straight? Now, you know, Mr. Bowles, it looks very much to me as if – "

      "Her former name was Earl," interposed Mr. Bowles suavely, and carefully leaving out the "r." "My father's brother married a very dear friend of ours, a Mrs. Earl, and I sometimes call her so still – inadvertently, you know. I am an orphan now and Mrs. Earl – ah, Bowles – has taken me as a son. But you can readily understand how a young man of my age and disposition might not always fall in with a somewhat elderly lady's views of life, especially in regard to cultural influences, and while I love her very dearly and wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world – "

      "Yes, it's too bad about you!" observed Dixie Lee heartlessly; and then for quite a while she looked out of the car window as drab and dirty tenements slipped by and the train plunged into a tunnel.

      "How far West are you going?" she inquired, waking up suddenly from her reverie. "Lemme see your ticket. Um-m! Well, we travel together as far as Albuquerque, New Mex, and there we say 'Good-by.' I reckon California is about your size, Mr. Bowles, but don't you make any mistake and drop off in Arizona or the cowboys will scare you up some. As for the rest of it, I don't care what name a man goes by, but I see you are down on your ticket here as 'Houghton.'"

      There was a challenge in her voice; but Bowles was not dismayed.

      "Now, really, Miss Lee," he began, "why quibble over the accident of a name? Whether my name is Houghton, as I have signed it here, or Bowles, has nothing to do with the case. The fact is, I am suffering from an excess of aunts and Wordsworth, much in the same way that you are, perhaps, and my heart has gone out to the West. Be a good fellow now and help me out. Tell me about the country and what I would better do; and, though it is a small return, you shall have one more devoted slave to worship at your feet."

      A fleeting smile came into his eyes as he delivered himself of this last, and the queen of the Bat Wing Ranch paused suddenly to make sure there was no mistake. It would be hard indeed to find oneself laughed at by a suède New Yorker, and yet – well, he seemed to mean it, too.

      "Rise up, then, Sir Knight," she said, tapping him lightly with her sombrero; "and be mighty particular to change cars when we get to Albuquerque – otherwise the Chula Vista cowboys will make you hard to catch."

      CHAPTER II

      THE FAR WEST

      Three days is a short time in which to post a man on the Far West, but if you don't care what you say, and say it quick, you can give him a pretty good fill. Dixie Lee was almost sorry when the Limited rolled into Albuquerque, and Mr. Bowles was fairly tearful in his adieus.

      "Really, Miss Lee," he said, holding her hand with just a shade more than the proper pressure, "really, I shall never forget your kindness. The days have passed like a dream and I feel myself quite a Westerner already. Yes, I am sure I shall love the West – it is so big, and free – but what I like about it most is its splendid spirit of equality, its camaraderie. I can feel it everywhere – it is in the air – these great, rough-looking men, greeting perfect strangers in the smokers and on the platforms and saying: 'Say, pardner, gimme a match' – or a smoke, even! Oh, it is glorious! I – but, really, I must be going! So sorry our ways should part here. Well, good-by, Miss Lee – so glad we should happen to meet. I hope you have a pleasant journey. Thank you! Oh, don't mention it – good-by!"

      He raised his Dutch comedian hat once more, a trace of romantic mistiness came into his violet eyes, and then he hurried back to his luxurious quarters on the Limited while Dixie May sat and waited for the southbound to take her to Deming. It was not a cheerful journey to contemplate, for New Mexico and Arizona way trains are slow and dusty, and given to making poor connections and unseemly arrivals; but by ten o'clock that evening Dixie Lee hoped to get as far as Deming and then, if the Overland happened to be late too, she could catch a westbound passenger and get to Chula Vista before the hotel closed. The Western Limited pulled out as her train still stood on its track and she glanced at the rear-end of the observation car for a fluttering handkerchief; but Mr. Bowles' emotions seemed to have overcome him, for he was lacking in this last attention. She watched for him with a broad grin; then, when she was sure he was really gone, Dixie May threw herself back in her seat and laughed until she was silly.

      She was in good humor all the way to Deming, where the westbound was reported two hours late; but as she was pacing up and down the platform at midnight her face came suddenly straight. The westbound was standing on the track waiting for orders and she was walking along up toward the front when suddenly, through the smoking-car window, she beheld Sir Knight Bowles in eager converse with a grizzled old-timer! If it wasn't he, it was his twin brother – for there was the hard-boiled hat as large as life. The window was a little murky and the air was thick inside, but Dixie May was sure she had seen him – or was she having dreams?

      It seemed, somehow, as if she couldn't get that droll creature out of her mind. All the way down from Albuquerque she had been hearing his talk in her ears and laughing at the way he broadened his "a's" and purred and purled over his "r's." At times she had burst into inextinguishable laughter, insomuch that several of the male passengers had regarded her with curious glances and the train boy had tried to get gay with her; but Dixie Lee knew how to settle that kind of folks. A peanut butcher was a peanut butcher to her, and nothing more; and if he neglected to hawk his wares in order to drape himself over the back of her seat she could put him in his place. It was Mr. Bowles that she was thinking of —Mr. Bowles – and when she remembered the innocent look on his face as she filled him up with Indian atrocities and cattle-war stories she just simply had to laugh. But now to find him following her – to discover him on the same train when he was ticketed west out of Albuquerque – well, that was a different thing entirely!

      Dixie Lee retired to the sleeper to snatch a few hours of repose and when the dead-eyed porter set her down at Chula Vista she had entirely forgotten her knight. It was five o'clock on a cold March morning and the wind came in from across the prairie with a sweep that chilled the blood. It was so cold that the ticket-agent had ducked back into his inner sanctum before she could so much as hail him – and it was a quarter of a mile up to the hotel! Dixie May took a long look about her; she tried the waiting-room door; then, with a deep-drawn shudder, she turned to go it alone, when lo, a tall and masculine figure stepped out from behind the warehouse and she recognized Mr. Bowles!

      "Pardon me, madam," he said, doffing his comedian hat and addressing her as if she were a stranger; "I see you are all alone – can I be of any service to you?"

      It was dark, all right, but the idea of Mr. Bowles expecting to conceal his identity by mere starlight! She knew him, of course, the minute she saw his hat, but – well, what was the use of getting haughty about it? Why not do a little play-acting, too, until they got up to the hotel?

      "Why – why, yes," she faltered, simulating an appealing weakness. "It's very kind of you, I'm sure. I – I expected my father to meet me here, but – "

      "Ah, yes – very unfortunate," put in Bowles promptly. "Is there any hotel near? Just lead the way then, and I'll follow with your luggage. You might put on my overcoat if you're suffering from the cold. Rather not? Very well, then; let's hurry along to the hotel."

      They hurried, Bowles struggling with the baggage, of which he had three pieces, and Dixie Lee preparing her valedictory. Yes, much as she regretted it, she would have to bid him farewell – otherwise he might come tagging after her out to the ranch and set the whole country