Just as the bags were recovered, the whistle tooted,
the wheels grated in turning, and the train that on its return trip to
Denver, might have carried these girls back to _their_ kind of
civilization, slowly pulled out of sight.
Eleanor struggled with the two well-filled bags of toilet accessories,
and deposited them before her sister. "Bet you everything is broken,
and our house-dresses ruined with perfume!"
As Barbara made no reply, Eleanor followed the direction of her stare.
A group of dreadful looking miners and a crowd of wild-looking cow-
punchers were using seven expensive wardrobe trunks for their pleasure.
Evidently the men had indulged in too many tests of Oak Creek whiskey,
called "Pizen" by the natives. The cow-boys were picturesque enough. in
their wide sombreros, woolly chaps, gay shirts, and a swagger that
matched their trick of shooting. The miners were swarthy, bearded
foreigners, who wore long boots, loose shirts, and belts from which
ugly-looking six-shooters protruded.
As Eleanor decided to go over to the circle surrounding the trunks, and
demand an explanation she heard a hardened miner shout: "It's my deal
next!"
Then the sisters saw that their largest trunk had been turned over on
its side to make a convenient card-table. The others accommodated the
players and loungers whose spurred heels beat a tattoo upon the
polished grain-leather covers.
"Humph! At least we can display original etchings on our trunks when we
get them back home," remarked Eleanor, with a gleam of amusement at the
affair.
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