"Then we are really to go to 'the front' and see a right-of-way fight?
Oh, won't that be perfectly intoxicating!"

The Rajah glared at her as if she had said something incendiary. The
picturesque aspect of the struggle had evidently not appealed to him.
But he smiled grimly when he said: "Now there spoke the blood of the
fighting Carterets: hope you won't change your mind, my deah." And
with that he dived into his working den, pushing the lately-returned
secretary in ahead of him.

Virginia linked arms with Bessie, the flaxen-haired, when the wheels
began to turn.

"We are off," she said. "Let's go out on the platform and see the last
of Denver."

It was while they were clinging to the hand-rail, and looking back
upon the jumble of railway activities out of which they had just
emerged that the Rosemary, gaining headway, overtook another moving
train running smoothly on a track parallel to that upon which the
private car was speeding. It was the narrow-gage mountain connection
of the Utah line, and Winton and Adams were on the rear platform of
the last car. So it chanced that the four of them were presently
waving their adieus across the wind-blown interspace. In the midst of
it, or rather at the moment when the Rosemary, gathering speed as the
lighter of the two trains, forged ahead, the Rajah came out to light
his cigar.

He took in the little tableau of the rear platforms at a glance, and