chin in her hands, with elbows on the ledge, gazed down upon the
crowd. The show was over and the dance had begun, but she did not
see it, for she was thinking rapidly with the eagerness of one who
sees the end of a long and weary search. She did not notice the
Bronco Kid beckoning to her nor the man with him, so the gambler
brought his friend along and invaded her box. He introduced the
man as Mr. Champian.

"Do you feel like dancing?" the new-comer inquired.

"No; I'd rather look on. I feel sociable. You're a society man,
Mr. Champian. Don't you know anything of interest? Scandal or the
like?"

"Can't say that I do. My wife attends to all that for the family.
But I know there's lots of it. It's funny to me, the airs some of
these people assume up here, just as though we weren't all equal,
north of Fifty-three. I never heard the like."

"Anything new and exciting?" inquired Bronco, mildly interested.

"The last I heard was about the Judge's niece, Miss Chester."

Cherry Malotte turned abruptly, while the Kid slowly lowered the
front legs of his chair to the floor.

"What was it?" she inquired.

"Why, it seems she compromised herself pretty badly with this
fellow Glenister coming up on the steamer last spring. Mighty