with the tolling of the bell, and a jerk that flung those unprepared
off their feet, the great express got off.

"Nobody left behind," Edgar announced, after a glance through the
window. "I can't imagine where they put them all; though I've never
seen a train like this. But what has become of our Canadian friends?"

George said he did not know, and Edgar resumed:

"I'm rather taken with the girl--strikes me as intelligent as well as
fetching. The man's a grim old savage, but I'm inclined to think he's
prosperous; when a fellow says he can't afford cigars I generally
suspect him of being rich. It's a pity that stinginess is one of the
roads to affluence."

The car, glaringly lighted by huge lamps, was crowded and very hot, and
after a while George went out on to the rear platform for a breath of
air. The train had now left the city, and glancing back as it swung
around a curve, he wondered how one locomotive could haul the long row
of heavy cars. Then he looked out across the wide expanse of grass
that stretched away in the moonlight to the dim blur of woods on the
horizon. Here and there clumps of willows dotted the waste, but it lay
silent and empty, without sign of human life. The air was pleasantly
fresh after heavy rain; and the stillness of the vast prairie was
soothing by contrast with the tumult from which they had recently
escaped.

Lighting his pipe, George leaned contentedly on the rail. Then
remembering what the Canadian had said, he thought of his old friend
Marston, a man of charm and varied talents, whom he had long admired