Rich men, poor men, beggarmen, thieves impelled by the lure of chance had gathered at the mushroom city of Comanche. The drawing was to be by lot and the lucky holder of number one was entitled to first choice of the rich lands. It meant a fortune. Dr. Warren Slavens drew claim number one, but before he established his ownership he have a hard battle with crooks and politicians.
First among the others was the bright-haired young woman from Canton, Ohio, whose gray eyes seemed older than herself, lighting as if with new hope every time they turned to acknowledge a good wish for her luck in the new land. It seemed at such moments as if she quickened with the belief that she was coming upon the track of something which she had lost, and was in a way of getting trace of it again.
She sat up straight-backed as a saint in a cathedral window, but she unbent toward June. June was not long in finding out that she, also, was a product of grand old Molly Bawn, that mighty institution of learning so justly famed throughout the world for its fudge; that her name was Agnes Horton, and that she was going to register for a piece of land.
Some five years before June had matriculated, Agnes Horton had stepped out, finished, from the halls of Molly Bawn.
"She's old," confided June to her mother's ear. "She must be at least twenty-five!"
Old or young, she was handsomer