across the border has stirred up some excitement along the line.
Miss, I guess it's safe enough, if you--"

"Thank you. I am not in the least afraid."

As the train started to glide away Miss Hammond walked towards
the dimly lighted station. As she was about to enter she
encountered a Mexican with sombrero hiding his features and a
blanket mantling his shoulders.

"Is there any one here to meet Miss Hammond?" she asked.

"No sabe, Senora," he replied from under the muffling blanket,
and he shuffled away into the shadow.

She entered the empty waiting-room. An oil-lamp gave out a thick
yellow light. The ticket window was open, and through it she saw
there was neither agent nor operator in the little compartment.
A telegraph instrument clicked faintly.

Madeline Hammond stood tapping a shapely foot on the floor, and
with some amusement contrasted her reception in El Cajon with
what it was when she left a train at the Grand Central. The only
time she could remember ever having been alone like this was once
when she had missed her maid and her train at a place outside of
Versailles--an adventure that had been a novel and delightful
break in the prescribed routine of her much-chaperoned life. She
crossed the waiting-room to a window and, holding aside her veil,
looked out. At first she could descry only a few dim lights, and
these blurred in her sight. As her eyes grew accustomed to the