One of the horses, a
rather stocky gray, bore a pack. The other, a short-coupled, sturdy
buckskin, was saddled. Evidently Cheyenne was trying to catch up with
his dinner schedule, for as Bartley entered the dining-room he saw him,
sitting face to face with a high stack of flapjacks, at the base of
which reposed two fried eggs among some curled slivers of bacon.
Two railroad men, a red-eyed Eastern tourist who looked as though he had
not slept for a week, a saturnine cattleman in from the mesas, and two
visiting ladies from an adjacent town comprised the tale of guests that
morning. As Bartley came in the guests glanced at him curiously. They
had heard of the misunderstanding at the Blue Front.
Cheyenne immediately rose and offered Bartley a chair at his table. The
two women, alone at their table, immediately became subdued and
watchful. They were gazing their first upon an author. Wishful had made
the fact known, with some pride. The ladies, whom Cheyenne designated as
"cow-bunnies,"---or wives of ranchers,--were dressed in their "best
clothes," and were trying to live up to them.
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