At Denver there was an influx of passengers into the coaches on the eastbound B. &M. express. In one coach there sat a very pretty young woman dressed in elegant taste and surrounded by all the luxurious comforts of an experienced traveler. Among the newcomers were two young men, one of handsome presence with a bold, frank countenance and manner;the other a ruffled, glum-faced person, heavily built and roughly dressed. The two were handcuffed together.

As they passed down the aisle of the coach the only vacant seat offered was a reversed one facing the attractive young woman. Here the linked couple seated themselves. The young woman's glance fell upon them with a distant, swift disinterest; then with a lovely smile brightening her countenance and a tender pink tingeing her rounded cheeks, she held out a little gray-gloved hand. When she spoke her voice, full, sweet, and deliberate, proclaimed that its owner was accustomed to speak and be heard.

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

The younger man roused himself sharply at the sound of her voice, seemed to struggle with a slight embarrassment which he threw off instantly, and then clasped her fingers with his left hand.

“It's Miss Fairchild,” he said, with a smile. “I'll ask you to excuse the other hand; “it's otherwise engaged just at present.”

He slightly raised his right hand, bound at the wrist by the shining “bracelet”to the left one of his companion. The glad look in the girl's eyes slowly changed to a bewildered horror. The glow faded from her cheeks. Her lips parted in a vague, relaxing distress. Easton, with a little laugh, as if amused, was about to speak again when the other forestalled him. The glum-faced man had been watching the girl's countenance with veiled glances from his keen, shrewd eyes.

“You'll excuse me for speaking, miss, but, I see you're acquainted with the marshall here. If you'll ask him to speak a word for me when we get to the pen he'll do it, and it'll make things easier for me there. He's taking me to Leavenworth prison. It's seven years for counterfeiting.”

“Oh!” said the girl, 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 unto itself, and you know it takes money to keep step with our crowd in Washington. I saw this opening in the West, and—well, a marshalship isn't quite as high a position as that of ambassador, but—”

“The ambassador,” said the girl, warmly, “doesn't call any more. He needn't ever have done so. You ought to know that. And 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 from the old crowd.”

The girl's eyes, fascinated, went back, widening a little, to rest upon the glittering 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 the girl.

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

“I love the West,” said the girl irrelevantly. Her eyes were shining softly. She looked away out the car window. She began to speak truly and simply without the gloss of style and manner:“Mamma and I spent the summer in Denver. She went home a week ago because father was slightly 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 glum-faced man. “This isn't quite fair. I'm needing a drink, and haven't had a smoke all day. Haven't you talked long enough? Take me in the smoker now, 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 deny a petition 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, reclothing herself with manner and style. “But you must go on to Leavenworth, I suppose?”

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

The two men sidled down the aisle into the smoker.

The two passengers in a seat near by had heard most of the conversation. Said one of them:“That marshal's 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?”

丹佛站，一群乘客擁進了東去的寶馬快車車廂。其中一個車廂里坐著一位非常漂亮、衣著優雅的年輕女郎，她身邊放滿了奢華舒適的生活用品，顯然是一位經驗豐富的游客。在剛上來的乘客中有兩個年輕人：一個風度翩翩，剛毅坦率；另一個滿臉皺紋，面色憂郁，身材魁梧，穿著邋遢。兩個人的手銬在一起。

他們穿越過道時，車里唯一的空位朝向車尾，面對那個迷人的年輕女郎。這兩個銬在一起的人坐在了這里。年輕女人的目光悠遠冷淡，飛快地落在他們身上；隨后，她的臉上泛起了可愛的微笑，豐潤的面頰微微飛起了柔和的粉紅色，她伸出一只戴著灰手套的小手。她說話時的聲音圓潤、甜美、從容，表明它的主人習慣說話，也習慣讓別人聽她說話。

“噢，伊斯頓先生，要是你讓我先說話，我想我必須這樣。你在西部碰見老朋友還認不出來嗎？”

聽到她的聲音，那個比較年輕的人猛地驚醒，似乎有點兒尷尬，但立刻又恢復了常態，隨后用左手握了握她的手。

“這不是嬌娃小姐嗎，”他面帶微笑說。“我要請你原諒我的右手，它現在另有用場。”

他微微抬起右手，露出與同伴的左手腕扣在一起的那副閃亮的“手鐲”。那個姑娘的快樂眼神慢慢變得迷惘恐懼，臉頰上褪去了緋紅，嘴唇微啟，顯得有些緊張。伊斯頓好像是被逗樂了，微微笑出了聲，正要再次開口，同伴卻搶在了前面。那個臉色陰沉的人眼睛敏銳狡黠，一直偷偷地盯著姑娘的面容。

“小姐，請原諒我開口說話，但我看得出你跟這位法警熟悉。要是你請他在我們到達監獄時給我美言幾句，他會聽你的，這樣我在那里的日子就會好過些。他要帶我去利文沃斯監獄。因偽造罪而被判七年。”

“噢！”姑娘深吸了口氣說，臉上又緋紅了起來。“這么說，這就是你在這里的工作了？當一名法警！”

“我親愛的嬌娃小姐，”伊斯頓平靜地說，“我不得不找一份工作干。錢來得容易去得快，在這里要過像在華盛頓一樣的生活，要花費好多錢。我看到西部這個職位空缺，然后——當然，法警的職位不如大使的職位那樣高，不過——”

“大使，”姑娘熱情地說。“再也沒有來過電話。他也不必那樣做。你應該知道。再說，你現在是一名出色的西部英雄，騎馬、射擊，歷盡艱險。那與華盛頓的生活截然不同。老朋友們都念著你。”

姑娘微微睜大眼睛，迷人的目光又落在了那副閃亮的手銬上。

“小姐，別為它們擔心，”伊斯頓的同伴說。“所有法警都將自己和罪犯銬在一起，以防他們逃跑。伊斯頓先生精通這一行。”

“我們會很快在華盛頓見到你嗎？”姑娘問道。

“我想，不會很快，”伊斯頓說。“我怕，我像蝴蝶一樣逍遙的日子到頭了。”

“我愛西部，”姑娘風馬牛不相及地說，眼睛閃著溫柔的光澤。她移開目光，望著車窗外，開始真誠簡單地說了起來，沒有客套和矯飾：“我和媽媽這個夏天是在丹佛過的。父親身體不太好，她一周前回家去了。我可以在西部快樂生活，我想這里的空氣適合我。金錢不是一切。然而，人們總是對事物產生誤解，執迷不悟——”

“喂，法警先生，”那個臉色陰沉的人咆哮道。“這太不公平了。我要喝點兒什么，而且我一天都沒抽煙了。你們聊夠了沒有？現在把我帶到抽煙車廂去，行嗎？我想抽煙都快想死了。”

兩個銬在一起的乘客站起來，伊斯頓臉上帶著同樣遲緩的笑容。

“我無法拒絕抽煙的請求，”他輕聲說道。“不幸的人總是與它為伴。再見，嬌娃小姐。公務在身，你知道。”他伸出一只手道別。

“你不去東部真是太糟了，”她說，舉止和風度恢復如初。“但我想你必須去利文沃斯吧？”

“是的，”伊斯頓說，“我必須去利文沃斯。”

兩個人側身而行，沿著過道進了抽煙車廂。

旁邊座位上的兩個乘客聽到了這大部分的對話。其中一個說：“那法警是個好人。有些西部人真不賴。”

“年紀輕輕就擔任這樣的職位，不是嗎？”另一個說。

“年紀輕輕！”剛才說話的那個人大聲說道。“啊——噢！難道你不明白嗎？喂——你見過將囚徒銬在自己右手上的法警嗎？”