The interior, however, offered even smaller comfort.  A rude bedstead, one leg considerably short and propped up by a half brick, stood against the board wall; a single wooden chair was opposite, and a fly-specked mirror hung over a tin basin and pitcher.  The floor sagged fearfully and the side walls lacked several inches of reaching the ceiling.  Even in the dim candle light of the evening before, the bed coverings had looked so forbidding that Molly had compromised, lying down, half-dressed on the outside; now, in the garish glare of returning day they appeared positively filthy.  And this was the best to be had; she realized that, her courage failing at the thought of remaining alone amid such surroundings.  As she washed, using a towel of her own after a single glance at the hotel article, and did up her rebellious hair, she came to a prompt decision.  She would go directly on—­would take the first stage.  Perhaps her father, or whomever he sent, would be met with along the route.  The coaches had regular meeting stations, so there was small danger of their missing each other.  Even if she was compelled to wait over at Fort Dodge, the environment there could certainly be no more disagreeable than this.

The question of possible danger was dismissed almost without serious thought.  She had seen no papers since leaving St. Louis, and the news before that contained nothing more definite than rumors of uneasiness among the Plains Indians.  Army officers interviewed rather made light of the affair, as being merely the regular outbreak of young warriors, easily suppressed.  On the train she had met with no one who treated the situation as really serious, and, if it was, then surely her father would send some message of restraint.  Satisfied upon this point, and fully determined upon departing at the earliest opportunity, she ventured down the narrow, creaking stairs in search of breakfast.

The dining-room was discovered at the foot of the steps, a square box of a place, the two narrow windows looking forth on the desolate prairie.  There were three long tables, but only one was in use, and, with no waiter to guide her, the girl advanced hesitatingly and took a seat opposite the two men already present.  They glanced up, curiously interested, staring at her a moment, and then resumed their interrupted meal.  Miss McDonald’s critical eyes surveyed the unsavory-looking food, her lips slightly curving, and then glanced inquiringly toward the men.  The one directly opposite was large and burly, with iron-gray hair and beard, about sixty years of age, but with red cheeks and bright eyes, and a face expressive of hearty good nature.  His clothing was roughly serviceable, but he looked clean and wholesome.  The other was an army lieutenant, but Molly promptly quelched her first inclination to address him, as she noted his red, inflamed face and dissipated appearance.  As she nibbled, half-heartedly, at the miserable food brought by a slovenly waiter, the two men exchanged barely a dozen words, the lieutenant growling out monosyllabic answers, finally pushing back his chair, and striding out.  Again the girl glanced across at the older man, mustering courage to address him.  At the same moment he looked up, with eyes full of good humor and kindly interest.