"
The large hand of the cross-eyed lady stole out once more and rested
upon the sugar-bowl.
"D'you mind sayin' that over agin?" she queried.
"Lonesomeness is worse'n hunger," said Buck Daniels, and he met her gaze
steadily with his black eyes.
The hand released the sugar-bowl once more; something resembling colour
stole into the brown cheeks of the maiden.
She said, relentingly: "Maybe you been off by yourse'f mining,
stranger?"
Buck Daniels drew a long breath.
"Mines?" he said, and then laughed bitterly. "If that was all I been
doin'--" he began darkly--and then stopped.
The waitress started.
"Maybe this here is my last chance to get chuck for days an' days. Well,
let it go. If I stayed here with you I'd be talkin' too much!"
He turned slowly towards the door. His step was very slow indeed.
"Wait a minute," called the maiden. "There ain't any call for that play.
If you're in wrong somewhere--well, stranger, just take that chair and
I'll have some ham-and in front of you inside of a minute."
She had slammed through the door before Buck turned, and he sat down,
smiling pleasantly to himself. Half of a mirror decorated the wall
beside his table, and into this Buck peered. His black locks were sadly
disarrayed, and he combed them into some semblance of order with his
fingers. He had hardly finished this task when the door was kicked open
with such force that it whacked against the wall, and the waitress
appeared with an armful of steaming food.
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