half-dozen lonely little wooden crosses she had seen through the car window
at odd places along the line of rail.

And now she sought her way toward the Flats. To do this she had to climb
over a track that was waiting for ballast. A car shunted past her, and on
its side she saw the big, warning red placards--Dynamite. That one word
seemed to breathe to her the spirit of the wonderful energy that was
expending itself all about her. From farther on in the mountains came the
deep, sullen detonations of the "little black giant" that had been rumbling
past her in the car. It came again and again, like the thunderous voice of
the mountains themselves calling out in protest and defiance. And each time
she felt a curious thrill under her feet and the palpitant touch of
something that was like a gentle breath in her ears. She found another
track on her way, and other cars slipped past her crunchingly. Beyond this
second track she came to a beaten road that led down into the Flats, and
she began to descend.

[Illustration: A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them
Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a
little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was
respectable!"]

Tents shone through the trees on the bottom. The rattle of the cars grew
more distant, and she heard the hum and laughter of voices and the jargon
of a phonograph. At the bottom of the slope she stepped aside to allow a
team and wagon to pass. The wagon was loaded with boxes that rattled and
crashed about as the wheels bumped over stones and roots. The driver of the
team did not look at her. He was holding back with his whole weight; his
eyes bulged a little; he was sweating, in his face was a comedy of
expression that made the girl smile in spite of herself. Then she saw one