felt fine as the sharp, night air roused her nerves and freshened
her skin. He led the way into the empty waiting-room; the porter
piled the bags on the bench; she seated herself. "I must send a
telegram," said he, and he went over to the window marked
"Telegraph Office." It was closed. He knocked and rattled, and
finally pounded on the glass with his umbrella handle.

Her nerves went all to pieces. "Can't you see," she called
impatiently, "that there's no one there?"

"There will be some one!" he shouted in reply, and fell to
pounding so vigorously that she thought the glass would surely
break. But it did not; after a while the window flew up and an
angry face just escaped a blow from the vibrating umbrella handle.
A violent altercation followed, the operator raging, but Craig
more uproarious than he and having the further advantage of a more
extensive and more picturesque vocabulary. Finally the operator
said: "I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself. Don't you see
there's a lady present?"

"It's my wife," said Craig. "Now take this message and get it off
at once. You should thank me for not having you dismissed."

The operator read the message. His face changed and he said in a
surlily apologetic manner: "I'll send it off right away, Mr.
Craig. Anything else?"

"That's all, my friend," said Josh. He returned to his wife's
side. She was all confusion and doubt again. Here they were back
in civilization, and her man of the woods was straightway running