At Denver, a great many passengers joined the coaches on the eastbound Boston and Maine train. In one coach, there sat a very pretty young woman. She was richly and beautifully dressed. Among the newcomers were two men. The younger one was good-looking with a bold, honest face and manner. The other was a sad-faced person, heavily built and roughly dressed. The two were handcuffed together.

As they passed down the aisle of the coach, the only empty seats were ones facing an attractive young woman. Here the linked pair seated themselves. The woman quickly glanced at them with disinterest. Then with a lovely smile, she held out a little gray-gloved hand. When she spoke, her voice showed that she was used to speaking and being heard.

“Well, Mr. Easton, if you will make me speak first, I suppose I must. Don’t you ever say hello to old friends when you meet them in the West?”

The younger man pulled himself up sharply at the sound of her voice. He seemed to struggle with a little embarrassment, which he threw off instantly. Then he held her fingers with his left hand.

“It’s Miss Fairchild,” he said, with a smile. “I’ll ask you to excuse the other hand. I’m not able to use it just at present.”

He slightly raised his right hand, which was bound at the wrist by the shining “bracelet” to the left one of his partner. The happy look in the woman’s eyes slowly changed to one of puzzled horror. The glow faded from her cheeks. Easton, with a little laugh, as if amused, was about to speak again when the other stopped him. The sad-faced man had been watching the young woman’s face with his sharp, searching eyes.

“You’ll excuse me for speaking, Miss. But I see you know the marshal here. If you’ll ask him to speak a word for me when we get to the pen, he’ll do it. It’ll make things easier for me there. He’s taking me to Leavenworth Prison. It’s seven years for counterfeiting.”

“Oh!” she said, with a deep breath and returning color. “So that is what you are doing out here. A marshal!”

“My dear Miss Fairchild,” said Easton calmly, “I had to do something. Money has a way of taking wings. You know it takes money to keep in step with our crowd in Washington. I saw this opening in the West, and—well, a marshal isn’t quite as high a position as that of an ambassador, but—”

“The ambassador,” she said warmly, “doesn’t call anymore. He needn’t ever have done so. You ought to know that. So now you are one of these dashing western heroes. And you ride and shoot and go into all kinds of dangers.

That’s different from the Washington life. You have been missed by the old crowd.” The woman’s eyes, interested, went back, widening a little, to rest upon the shiny handcuffs.

“Don’t you worry about them, Miss,” said the other man. “All marshals handcuff themselves to their prisoners to keep them from getting away. Mr. Easton knows his business.”

“Will we see you again soon in Washington?” asked Miss Fairchild.

“Not soon, I think,” said Easton. “My butterfly days are over, I fear.”

“I love the West,” she said. Her eyes were shining softly. She looked away and out of the train window. She began to speak truly and simply, forgetting about style and manner. “Mamma and I spent the summer in Denver. She went home a week ago because Father was ill. I could live and be happy in the West. I think the air here agrees with me. Money isn’t everything. But people always misunderstand things and remain stupid.”

“Say, Mr. Marshal,” growled the sad-faced man. “This isn’t quite fair. I’m needing a drink, and haven’t had a smoke all day. Haven’t you been talking long enough? Take me into the smoker, won’t you? I’m half dead for a pipe.”

The bound travelers rose to their feet, Easton with the same slow smile on his face.

“I can’t say no to a need for tobacco,” he said lightly. “It’s the one friend of the unfortunate. Good-bye, Miss Fairchild. Duty calls, you know.” He held out his hand for a farewell.

“It’s too bad you are not going East,” she said, remembering again her manner and style. “But you must go on to Leavenworth, I suppose?”

“Yes,” said Easton. “I must go on to Leavenworth.”

The two men made their way down the aisle into the smoker.

The two passengers in a seat nearby heard most of the conversation. Said one of them: “That marshal is a good sort of chap. Some of these Western fellows are all right.”

“Pretty young to hold an office like that, isn’t he?” asked the other. “Young!” exclaimed the first speaker. “Why?—Oh! Didn’t you catch on? Say—did you ever know an officer to handcuff a prisoner to his right hand?”