conductor, and notify this station agent to ship the machine on the same
train. And, Elizabeth," he paused to take the drinking-cup she had filled,
"you look up a telephone, or if there isn't a long distance, telegraph
James. Tell him to have a couple of doctors, Hillis and Norton, to meet
the eight-fifteen; and to bring the limousine down with plenty of pillows
and comforters." He drained the cup and dropped it into the open hamper.
"Now, porter," he added, "if you hurry up a cocktail, the right sort,
before that westbound gets here, it means a five to you."

As these various messengers scurried away, the girl who remained picked up
the cup and poured a draught of wine for the lady in the tonneau. "I am so
sorry, but it was the only way. Do you think it is a sprain?" she asked.

"Yes." The older woman took the cup in her left hand. She had a deep,
carrying voice, and she added, looking at the injured wrist: "It's
swelling frightfully, but it saved my face; I might have had just such a
hideous wound as Frederic's. Isn't it a relief to hear him talking so
rationally?"

The girl nodded. "He seems quite himself," she said gravely. But she
turned to cover the mirth in her eyes; it suffused her face, her whole
charming personality. Then suddenly, at the moment the flow was highest,
came the ebb. Her glance met Tisdale's clear, appraising look, and she
stood silent and aloof.

He looked away and, after a moment, seeing nothing further to do, started
back to his train. She turned to take the empty cup, and as she closed the
hamper the whistle of the westbound sounded through the gorge.

Tisdale walked on through the observation car to the rear platform and