put aside the magazine over which he had been dreaming, and looked out
of the window, catching a glimpse of woodland road shining white
between sombre walls of stunted pine. Lazily he consulted his watch.

"It's not for nothing," he observed pensively, "that this railroad
wears its reputation: we are consistently late."

His gaze, again diverted to the flying countryside, noted that it had
changed character, pine yielding to scrub-oak and second-growth--the
ragged vestments of an area some years since denuded by fire. This,
too, presently swung away, giving place to cleared land--arable acres
golden with the stubble of garnered harvests or sentinelled with
unkempt shocks of corn.

In the south a shimmer of laughing gold and blue edged the faded
horizon.

Eagerly the young man leaned forward, dark eyes the functions of
waiting-room and ticket and telegraph offices. From its eaves depended
a weather-worn board bearing the legend: "Nokomis."

The train, pausing only long enough to disgorge from the baggage-car a
trunk or two and from the day-coaches a thin trickle of passengers,
flung on into the wilderness, cracked bell clanking somewhat
disdainfully.

By degrees the platform cleared, the erstwhile patrons of the road and
the station loafers--for the most part hall-marked natives of the
region--straggling off upon their several ways, some afoot, a majority
in dilapidated surreys and buckboards. Amber watched them go with