Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 297, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 December 1910 — A Red Tag [ARTICLE]

A Red Tag

By CLARISSA MACKIE

When Evelyn-Lane refused to marry him. Dan kennett quietly pulled up stakes and, got as far away from New York as his limited supply of money would take him. That is how he happened to be in charge of the survey of the government tract near Horse Lick Springs, Mont. He had worked off the first bitter sting of disappointment, but there still remained the heartache and the growing conviction that there never could be another girl in the world for him. In May the surveying party was within a stone’s throw of the railroad whose shining rails flashed from east to west across the flat, gray prairie. Each dhy at noon the steel rails quivered under the thundering burden of the express train behind whose plate glass windows there was a fleeting glimpse of faces before the train became a mere speck in the distance again. Kennett had learned to long for its coming; there was always the possibility—a foolish and va4n one, indeed —that some day it might come flying out of the east bearing the girl he loved to some other destination; his dreams were always that he might catch a glance of her eye or see her face—just once. And yet it never had happened, but there was always the hope! Ail things are probable when one is thousands of miles from home and surrounded by flat stretches of gray prairie. But several weeks ago he had read in the society columns of a Sunday paper a paragraph about Evelyn Lane. She was preparing to go to California to be gone a year among friends. So Kennett had watched the trains now with some real hope that he might see her passing, and he had calculated to a pitiful nicety the chances that she might, after all, have a chair on the opposite side of the train. Today was hot and clpse; the sun shone mercilessly down on the little camp; the sagebrush crackled crisply under foot and a great and undying thirst seized the whole crew. “We’re going to give up for the rest of the day, Dan,” said one of the boys about ten o’clock; ‘‘it's too blamed hot to do another stroke of work! ” * “Very well,” returned Dan, listlessly; Tm pretty well done up myself. Guess I’ll turn in for a while.” “We’re going to ride over to thg Springs and load in some water —the casks are getting low; it's lots cooler fussing around the water than rustling around here. Better come along.” “Perhaps I’ll ride over a little later,” evaded Dan, turning into his tent. Browning smiled-ekeptically. “Waiting for the express. I'll bet a cookie! If you were a girl, Dan, I’d say you had a crush on the conductor of that train, the hungry way you look at it!” “You’d be hungry looking, too, if you were looking for your rich uncle," retorted Dan, coolly. “Get out!" sniffed Browning, striding off. “We’ll expect you after your uncle arrives, eh?” Dan did not reply. He stood in the doorway of the tent tingling with an anticipation that he could not understand. Perhaps it was because Browning had put some of his thoughts into words or —well, nothing would happen today. Probably Evelyn had gone by another route —it would be just his luck. As noon drew near he wandered about the deserted camp and along the railroad, with his watch in his hand. And then, just on time, he heard the distant humming that announced the coming of the train. It grew louder and changed to a roar and then to thunder. He stepped back, the better to watch the windows when they should flash past, and then —wonder of wonders —as it aproached the camp the train slowed down almost to a standstill. A man dropped down from the engine and ran to the forward driving wheels and the clank of a hammer on metal rang through the noon stillness.

Kennett w alked eagerly along, looking up at the windows where stranger faces peered curiously down at the tall, 6trong figure clad in khaki with a broad hat pulled over his forehead, so eagerly inspecting the passengers. When he reached the open door of the baggage car the engine was uttering preliminary grunts and thick black smoke drifted back, half obscuring the doorway. There was the balking of several dogs and among them a sharp insistent yelp that seemed vaguely familiar. The smoke swirled aside and he caught a glimpse of the interior of : s "the car and several crates containing dogs in different degrees of contentment. They seemed joined in protest against the liberty allowed a pretty fox terrier who danced delightedly at the end of a long chain held by a girl whose head was turned aside. The train plunged forward, the fox terrier uttered one Bhrill hark and dashed through the doorway, striking Kennett fairly in the chest and knocking him over backward. Then the express gathered speed and thundered away, leaving Kennett sit*

ting dazedly beside the track while a crazy fox terrier leaped upon him with velvet pink tongue and short, excited yaps of joy. The chain dangling from the collar flapped in the sagebrush and from a ring in the collar hung a red tag. It was all over and a miracle had happened! Evelyn had been on that train. She was the girl who had stood in the baggage and of whose face he had had a fleeting glimpse as the train dashed away! This crazy fox terrier, who had recognized in him a former master, was none other than Evelyn’s dog, Flip, He gathered the wriggling little beast in his arms and rocked him lovingly. The red tag bore a number and a most precious name—Evelyn’s—and the destination, Los Angeles. He stored it away in his pocket. He related the incident, shorn of its personal details, to the wondering party of water carriers when they came back to camp, and they accepted the addition of Flip with a hearty good will. Several days passed while Dan marveled that no inquiry had been put in motion by the railroad people for the absconding bit of baggage. Late one afternoon he rode over to the Springs; there was no mail at the postoffice, and when he had finished his business he mounted his horse and rode slowly out of the town back to the camp; Flip gamboled about the heels of the horse. The way led among sand dunes standing like hooded monks along the trail; he stopped once and, half turning in his saddle, looked at the sunset. It reddened his bronze face and glinted on the damp rings of hair on his forehead. He pushed back his hat,from his head and listened. The steady beat, beat of hoofs grew nearer; some one was coming from the town—perhaps one of the boys had been in—but he had left all of them at camp. He waited for the rider to catch up with him. The horse was a strange one and the rider did not resemble any of his friends. A broad hat flapped up and down. Dan Kennett’s heart went up and down, up and down, as a girl’s lovely face was revealed under the broad brim of the flapping hat; it stopped altogether when the rider resolved into Evelyn Lane herself, coming toward him with tremulous smile and pleading eyes. Flip raced crazily toward her.

“Dan!” she called, and It woke him from his stupor of surprise. In an Instant he was on the ground and holding out his arms, and she slipped down from the saddle and into his embrace with the happiest sigh of content in the world. Perched on a sand dune, after a long period of bliss, she told him how she came to be there. She had loved him, but had doubted her own heart; and he had gone away so quickly. If he had waited a little! Then things had been very dull and she had decided to spend a year with an aunt In Los Angeles. She and Flip had started, and the day the train had stopped she had been visiting the terrier in the baggage car. When the chain slipped from her hand, she had caught an instant’s glimpse of her lover. At the first stop shte made use of the information gathered as to the stopping place In the prairie; had taken a local train to the nearest point to Horse Lick Springs; had taken a stage to the Springs and from a hotel window had seen Dan Kennett. She had called for a horse and followed him and —here she was! Dan took her back to the Springs in the afterglow, and the next day he accompanied her to a railroad station where she could resume her journey westward; he would join her as soon as his work was done and then they could be married. Before they parted, Dan solemnly tore the red tag in two pieces and gave one to his sweetheart. “If it hadn't been for that, Evelyn,” he murmured, “this might not have happened.” Browning was relating a glimpse he had had of Dan’s meeting! with his sweetheart. “I say, fellows,” he concluded, “I never saw a chap so glad to see his rich uncle in my life!”