I glanced from this Goliath to his little, bird-eyed spouse, and
wondered if he had ever tried to mean business with her.

"Seth kicked at first, but I boosted her into the cab and made her
sit up beside me--"

"And I suppose Seth was busy running the engine," Mrs. Jones
observed.

"I was breaking him in, wasn't I?" Mr. Jones protested. "So we
made the run into Amato. She'd never opened her mouth once, and no
sooner'd the engine stopped than she'd jumped to the ground and was
gone. Just like that. Not a thank you kindly. Nothing.

"But next morning when we came to pull out for Quito with a dozen
flat cars loaded with rails, there she was in the cab waiting for
us; and in the daylight I could see how much better a looker she
was than the night before.

"'Huh! she's adopted you,' Seth grins. And it looked like it. She
just stood there and looked at me--at us--like a loving hound dog
that you love, that you've caught with a string of sausages inside
of him, and that just knows you ain't going to lift a hand to him.
'Go chase yourself!' I told her pronto." (Mrs. Jones her proximity
noticeable with a wince at the Spanish word.) "You see, Sarah, I'd
no use for her, even at the start."

Mrs. Jones stiffened. Her lips moved soundlessly, but I knew to
what syllables.