trout from his canoe. Although Lister used some reserve, their
friendship ripened, and when she left she hinted she had some power she
might be willing to use on his behalf.

All the same, Lister was proud. The girl belonged to a circle he could
not enter, and if he got promotion, it must be by his merits. He was not
the man to get forward by intrigue and the clever use of a woman's
influence; he had no talent for that kind of thing. He let it go, and
tried to concentrate on his calculations.

By and by the colored porter stopped to tell him his berth was fixed and
the passengers were going to bed. Lister nodded, put up his papers, and
then lighted a cigarette. The smoking-compartment was hot, the light the
rocking lamp threw about had hurt his eyes, and he thought he would go
out on the platform for a few minutes.

He went. The draught that swept the gap between the cars was bracing and
cool. There was a moon, he saw water shine and dark pines stream past.
The snorting of the locomotive broke in a measured beat through the roll
of wheels; the rocks threw back confused echoes about the clanging cars.
Then the gleam among the trees got wider and Lister knew they were
nearing a trestle that crossed an arm of a lake. In fact, he had
wondered whether he would be sent to pull down the bridge and rebuild it
with steel.

He sat down on the little box-seat, with his back against the door. The
platform had not the new guards the company was then fitting; there was
an opening in the rails, and one could go down the steps when the train
was running. The moonlight touched the back of the car in front, but
Lister was in the gloom, and when the vestibule door opposite opened he