track. That day, however, they happened to be repairing on the other end
of the section, so I managed to slip unobserved up to the front door of
the "big" house, where intending to surprise Mrs. McDonald by my
unexpected return, I knocked on the front door. To our mutual delight
Mrs. McDonald opened the door, and after giving me a glad welcome, asked
me into the house. She soon had one of her best meals steaming in front
of me, having correctly surmised that a man riding freight trains and
walking six miles, needed a hearty repast. Although I was more than
anxious to inquire about many items of interest, especially if my long
journey had not been made in vain, as my place might have been filled by
some other fellow in search of employment, she seemed to completely
ignore my presence, for she was only in the dining room during the brief
moments when she placed the filled plates upon the table.

I finished my dinner, and then, uninvited by Mrs. McDonald, but just as
she had taught me a year ago, when I helped her to do the chores about
the house while convalescing from my freezing experience, I carried the
soiled dishes into the kitchen. Noticing that she was still in full
mourning, I made careful inquiries as to whether any trace had been
found of the missing child during my absence, to which she sadly
replied that nothing had ever become of the land-wide search that had
been made. Her apparent reticence caused my curiosity to mount high, and
I followed up my question by pleasantly inquiring as to Foreman
McDonald's present state of health. She looked at me with an expression
of terror in her eyes, as if my words had stabbed her to her heart, but
did not answer, and a moment later she could not answer had she wanted
to, for heart-broken sobs choked her voice, but she beckoned to me to
follow her to the front porch and there she pointed her trembling finger
in the direction where they had buried my pal, Peoria Red, and there I
could plainly see three small, white crosses. Steeled by the many other