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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77180 ***
+                   This ebook was created in honor of
+              Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th Anniversary.
+
+
+
+
+ _The Girl at Silver Thistle_
+
+ _By Max Hale_
+
+ [Illustration]
+
+ _Published By_
+ THE DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING CO.
+ _Elgin_ _Chicago_ _New York_ _Boston_
+ Publishing House and Mailing Rooms, Elgin, Ill.
+
+
+
+
+_The Girl at Silver Thistle_
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1919,
+ BY DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING CO.,
+ ELGIN, ILLINOIS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+ _CHAPTER ONE_
+ _CHAPTER TWO_
+ _CHAPTER THREE_
+ _CHAPTER FOUR_
+ _CHAPTER FIVE_
+ _CHAPTER SIX_
+
+
+
+
+_The Girl at Silver Thistle_
+
+_By Max Hale_
+
+
+
+
+_CHAPTER ONE_
+
+
+Though it was only five-thirty, supper was over in the yellow
+station-house at Silver Thistle. Nevada Buckley, singing as merrily
+as the nightingale, had put away the broom and the floor mop, in the
+regular task of helping her mother keep the little house tidy. Through
+the open window of the kitchen, came the staccato firing of a motor
+exhaust. Without looking at the clock on the shelf, the girl knew it
+was exactly twenty-eight minutes to six. Also and without looking
+toward the railroad, she knew that her father, Robert Buckley, had
+shut down the gas engine that pumped water into the big red tank. He
+was hauling out the “speeder” to make his regular evening run over the
+line to place the lamps in the block signals. Regularity and routine,
+even away out there on the desert, were things of importance at Silver
+Thistle. Nevada turned and saw her mother lay the last of the three
+sandwiches in her father’s lunch pail. The lid was clamped on. The girl
+picked up the pail and hurried out. In a moment she had skipped down
+the track and placed it in the hamper of the little car. Her father was
+seated and ready for the start.
+
+“How is the tank, father?” she asked shouting her words in his ear so
+as to be heard above the loud firing of the motor.
+
+“Plenty of water, Neva,” he told her. “You won’t need to start the
+engine this evening.” He had his hand on the clutch lever, and the
+car started forward as he shouted back, “but there’ll be a ‘Special’
+through at six-twenty. Jim Fuson, who went through on Number Ten, told
+me about it. It will follow Number Sixteen.” He was gone then, with the
+speed of a rocket, straight toward the setting sun. As the “speeder”
+shot away, he waved a bronzed hand both to the girl on the track and to
+the one who stood in the door of the station-house.
+
+“A ‘Special’!” said Nevada to herself. “I wonder what it could be?
+Father didn’t say--and Jim Fuson may not have told him. I wonder and
+oh, I hope it’s the private car of Superintendent Foster!” She spoke
+these latter words with an eagerness that proved a keen desire. Let
+it be said that in the life of those who lived at Silver Thistle, in
+the heart of the great Mohave desert, the “comings and goings” of the
+trains were events of importance. And “Specials” being out of the
+ordinary, were peculiarly so, for they, like all others, had to stop
+at Silver Thistle for water. And this gave the girl of the little
+yellow station-house an opportunity to catch fleeting glimpses of
+the dignitaries and officials of the road, the big men who traveled
+in private coaches, and who had servants to wait upon them. Famous
+singers, governors of states, and millionaires also traveled that way,
+and all of them had to stop at Silver Thistle.
+
+It was not a great deal of notice most of these big or famous folk gave
+to the ruddy-cheeked girl at the lonely pump-station. And Nevada had
+only a fleeting peep at most of them through the polished plate-glass
+windows. Yet there was one who _had_ noticed her. This one was a girl
+like herself--like herself in years only. For this other girl was not
+ruddy-cheeked, with arms and neck tanned brown by the desert sun and
+wind. She was, as Nevada caught sight of her, just a slender slip of a
+girl, with pale cheeks and big, appealing eyes. Nevada remembered those
+eyes, for they had looked through the wide window of the big private
+car straight down at her. She had even smiled, a sweet, kindly smile,
+when the desert girl returned her gaze!
+
+That was a month ago, when the private car of Superintendent Foster,
+on its regular round, paused at Silver Thistle. Now it was time for
+the big car, with its brightly varnished body and shining brass rails
+to arrive again. Nevada wondered if the pale-faced girl, with the
+appealing eyes, would look out and smile at her again through the wide
+plate-glass window.
+
+Hopefully and expectantly, she returned to the house, singing as
+before. She gave her mother’s glowing face a fond touch of the hand as
+she went through the door and passed on to her own room. Here she took
+down a book she had been reading, but she could not get interested in
+the story. Seated by the open window, she kept lifting her eyes to look
+down the railroad track of which the long lines of shimmering steel
+faded away in the distance. Silver Thistle, with its group of three
+tiny buildings and a water tank, was an oasis in the desert. Around
+the lonely station spread endless miles of yellow sand, broken only by
+clumps of gray-green mesquite. Away over on the border line--on the
+very edge of the world, it seemed, the Funeral Range formed a dim,
+zigzagged line between earth and sky.
+
+Once, when Nevada raised her eyes and looked down the track, she saw a
+black dot appear at the end of the shimmering line. This dot seemed to
+dance about at first, as if playing with the heat waves; but it grew
+larger and steadier as the moments passed, soon resolving itself into
+the form of a locomotive trailed by a long line of passenger cars.
+Across the desert it came, its swift passage now marked by a rumbling
+roar, and hurling the dust in a long, thin cloud. When the musical
+tritone of the whistle reached her, Nevada closed her book with a snap
+and leaned out of the window. In less than a minute Number Seven, with
+a loud screeching of its brakes, slid to a halt at the water tank.
+
+The huge, palpitating locomotive, its air-pump breathing hard, like a
+hound after a hard chase, halted but a few yards from Nevada’s open
+window. Out of the cab was thrust the gray head of Jerry Kerrigan.
+Though a pair of motor goggles, worn to protect his keen gray eyes
+from the flying sand, gave his face a grotesque look, it could not
+completely hide the jovial smile the veteran engineer ever had for
+the girl of Silver Thistle. The train stopped but long enough to take
+water. Then the great, black monster, trembling with the power of its
+mighty strength, leaned to its load, and moved forward, belching a
+cloud of smoke from its stack.
+
+“Oh, say, Neva--” Jerry called back, “I almost forgot: The
+superintendent’s ‘Special’ is just behind us! And, say--his girl will
+be with him! Look for her!”
+
+The train was gone, with a roar, leaving a smell of burned oil in its
+wake.
+
+Singing again, even more joyfully, Nevada stood by the window, watching
+for the “Special.” There came another rumbling roar from down the
+track, followed by another musical call of a locomotive’s whistle, and
+a minute later the “Special” had come to a halt at the water tank.
+There were only two cars--a pitiful load it seemed for that great,
+high-wheeled engine. The rear car alone attracted the attention of the
+desert girl. Her eager eyes took in every detail, and a happy smile
+brightened her face when she saw the name, painted in gold letters on
+the side. She repeated the name aloud:
+
+“Debue! Debue!”
+
+While she looked, a girl came out on the rear platform, to stand
+for a while inside the brass railing. Behind her followed a portly,
+white-haired man--a man whose features and bearing portrayed power and
+purpose and leadership. Nevada’s heart fluttered exultantly, for the
+girl was the one who had smiled down at her through the wide window of
+the coach--and the man who stood near her was Superintendent Foster.
+
+To Nevada’s ear came the joyful exclamation of the girl: “Oh, how
+lovely they are! I must have some of them. Please, father, can’t I have
+just a minute to pick some of them?”
+
+Then she turned her big, appealing eyes to her father, and the
+superintendent with a smile, nodded his assent. “Go ahead, my dear! But
+be careful--and stay only a minute.”
+
+Wondering what it was the girl had admired and wanted, Nevada watched
+while a porter opened the railing gate and placed a footstool under
+the lower step. The girl tripped down lightly and ran out across the
+right-of-way. Nevada followed her with keenly interested gaze. When
+the girl uttered another exclamation of delight, Nevada knew what it
+was that had attracted her. She was plucking the tall thistles--the
+long-stemmed, silver-plumed thistles that had given the isolated
+station its name.
+
+[Illustration: She was plucking the tall thistles.]
+
+Nevada, too, had admired the silver thistles--admired them for their
+hardihood, their happy way of nodding their plumed heads in pleasant
+salutation when nearly all other growing things were dried up,
+blistered and burned by the desert heat. She was glad this other girl
+loved them and could see the simple, unadorned beauty they possessed.
+She had a big vase filled with them in her room, and another in the
+cozy living-room of the station-house. Had she only known--could she
+only have guessed, she would have gathered an armload of them and had
+them ready when the “Special” arrived. What a chance that would have
+been to get acquainted, to have received a word from the girl who had
+smiled down at her!
+
+Just then, she heard a loud, shrieking cry. It came with startling
+suddenness, causing her to lift her head quickly and look out of the
+window. The first cry was instantly followed by another, louder than
+the first. The girl in the silver thistles was standing stiffly erect,
+holding a long, slender hand above her head. From her hand dangled a
+wriggling, twisting thing that fell to the ground while the desert girl
+looked.
+
+“It’s a scorpion--a scorpion! She has been stung by a scorpion!” Nevada
+spoke aloud in tones of sympathy and alarm. The girl continued to
+scream while her father and the porter hurried from the car.
+
+Nevada whirled swiftly from the window and out of her room. She knew
+that help was needed out there, and needed quickly. And she knew what
+must be done.
+
+“Mother!” she called. “Mother--quick, hot water, ammonia, olive
+oil--the superintendent’s daughter has been stung by a scorpion!”
+
+She was out of the house then, and running swiftly as a deer down the
+track.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_CHAPTER TWO_
+
+
+Before Nevada reached the rear coach of the “Special,” the
+superintendent’s daughter, supported by her father, was taken to the
+car steps. Her wild cries had subsided, but she continued to moan with
+pain. She had dropped her load of pink-tinted thistle blossoms. Her
+face was ghastly pale. Her big eyes were filled with a strange terror.
+She wrung her injured hand incessantly, now opening, now closing her
+rapidly stiffening fingers.
+
+“Poor dear! Poor dear!” said her father with affectionate sympathy. “Be
+quiet, Sweetheart--we will help you. Quick, Sam, up the step! We must
+make a fast run to Alcazar!”
+
+Alcazar, the next town of any importance or size, where medical aid
+could be had, was one hundred miles away. It could not be reached, even
+by the “Special,” in less than one hour and twenty minutes. By that
+time the deadly venom from the scorpion’s sting would have done its
+fatal work.
+
+Nevada Buckley heard the name of the distant town spoken and she
+guessed the intention of the superintendent. In his anxiety and alarm
+he had not observed the coming of the desert girl. But now she made her
+presence known, speaking to him quickly. “Please, Mr. Foster, bring her
+to the house. Mother and I know what to do. Don’t take her on until she
+is relieved.”
+
+The superintendent lifted his head in surprise. Anxiety was printed on
+his usually serene countenance. “Are you certain?” he said. “It must be
+cared for at once. We can make a fast run to Alcazar--”
+
+“It would take too long,” Nevada cried. “Bring her to mother. She is
+getting things ready now. We know just what to do. I was stung by a
+scorpion in almost the same way.”
+
+Nevada drew closer and looked unflinchingly into the steady gray eyes
+of the railroad magnate. For a brief moment he seemed not only to be
+gazing at her, but sounding the depths of her very soul, measuring her
+ability, her sincerity. It was his way of estimating the worth of those
+whom he trusted. And this was the time when his trust meant more than
+ever.
+
+“Very well,” he said in tones of finality. “We’ll take her to the
+house! Come, Sam, help me carry her! Easy now, easy, that’s the man!”
+The two lifted the injured girl and carried her between them. Nevada
+ran on ahead. Her mother had built a quick fire in the kitchen stove
+and already the kettle was singing. The living-room sofa was drawn
+out to a convenient position. Near it was placed a stand with a ready
+ammonia bottle, olive oil, bandages and a sharp-bladed penknife.
+
+“Lay her here,” directed Nevada, when the two men entered with their
+burden, followed by other members of the crew, all offering their
+assistance, all eager to help. They waited at the door, their caps in
+their hands, while Nevada, with the deftness and sureness of a trained
+nurse, proceeded to remove the poison and dress the wound of the
+superintendent’s daughter. Their hearts went to their throats, brave
+fellows though they were, when the half-unconscious girl screamed with
+pain. Then her head dropped limp on the arm of her father, while Nevada
+worked on with swift-moving fingers.
+
+“It’s out now, the worst of the poison is out!” she spoke assuringly,
+as she poured on the soothing olive oil and wrapped the injured finger
+with a broad bandage. “She will soon be all right.”
+
+She brought cold water, the coldest that could be had in the
+station-house, dipped her cool fingers in the basin and rubbed them
+gently over the forehead of the unconscious girl. After a time--a very
+long time it seemed to those who anxiously waited--a bit of color came
+into the pale face, and the big, dark eyes opened wide and staring.
+They gazed first into the strong face of the superintendent, who began
+at once to talk to his daughter in words of happy assurance. Then they
+looked up into the ruddy face of Nevada, looked up, as they had looked
+through the window that day, in mute appeal, with real kindness and
+genuine sympathy. When Nevada smiled, the other girl smiled in return.
+
+“Where am I?” asked the wounded girl in wonderment, as her gaze shifted
+from one to another of the group around her in the little room lighted
+by the red glow of the sunset. But now dusk was falling and Mrs.
+Buckley placed a lamp on the stand as Mr. Foster answered.
+
+“You’re at Silver Thistle, in a house of friends,” he said. “This
+Little Doctor Lady has removed the scorpion’s sting, for which we are
+thankful.”
+
+Nevada bathed the hand again, and this time the girl on the sofa gave
+her a happy look of recognition. “Oh, I know!” she exclaimed, raising
+her uninjured hand to the warm, round cheek so near her. “You are the
+girl at Silver Thistle. I’ve seen you. And I’ve wanted to meet you.”
+
+Thrilled by the kindness and sympathy of the girl’s words, Nevada
+lovingly touched her lips to the outstretched hand, then took
+it in her own cool fingers and pressed it tenderly. It was the
+beginning of a real friendship, the welding of human hearts, and
+Superintendent Foster, big stern man that he was, looked on with eyes
+of understanding. He tried to speak, but a lump came up in his throat
+and choked him.
+
+Just then the uniformed conductor of the “Special,” cap in hand, and
+carrying a brightly polished lantern, came in on tiptoe and touched the
+superintendent on the shoulder. “I beg pardon,” he said in low tones,
+“I merely ask for orders. We’re an hour behind now, Number Eighteen is
+behind us, and Number Eleven is waiting at Sand Ridge siding.”
+
+“You’re right,” spoke the magnate quickly. During the past hour of
+anxiety and uncertainty he had forgotten everything save this one who
+was dearer to him than all else in the world--forgotten that he was
+a railroad man with a life of routine keyed to schedules, time tables
+and orders. “We’ve tied up the line, all right,” he added with a smile.
+“The road is probably wondering what’s wrong. No doubt they think that
+the ‘Special’ is lost in the desert. We’ll move on, Ralston, in just a
+few minutes.”
+
+“Very well, sir,” the train chief responded, as he turned and left the
+room.
+
+A tense silence followed the conductor’s exit, during which the
+superintendent’s gray eyes were held on the upturned face of the desert
+girl. She knew the meaning of that look, and her heart sank. It meant
+the magnate was making ready to go.
+
+“My Little Doctor Lady,” he said finally. “I’m in a position where
+I feel I must take orders from you. How about it--may we move the
+patient? May we take her on right away?”
+
+Might they take her away--this girl who had come into her life, whose
+kindness, sympathy and friendship promised so much? Nevada did not
+reply at once. She wanted the girl to stay. Already the superintendent
+had tarried an hour, a very long time for a railroad chief to tarry at
+a place like Silver Thistle. Nevada wished with all her heart that the
+girl might stay. But she would tell the truth.
+
+“She could be moved safely,” she said at length, “for the poison is out
+of her hand, and the inflammation will soon leave. You can get a doctor
+and nurse at Alcazar. But if you would trust her with us--for a time--I
+would--”
+
+Nevada hesitated. Though she had summoned all her courage to make this
+heart demand, she found herself unable to finish what was on her mind
+to speak. The superintendent’s gray eyes were sounding the depths of
+her being again. It was a big thing to ask of him, a bigger thing, no
+doubt, than was his custom lightly to grant. He kept on searching her,
+even when she ceased speaking. And when he turned his gaze away, he
+let it shift to Mrs. Buckley, then from one corner to another of the
+little room. He was measuring them, gauging them, that he might be sure.
+
+Nevada, watching him, found no offense in his searching glances. She
+was filled with the spirit of the railroad, and she knew how much
+depended upon human faith and confidence. She begged only for an
+opportunity to serve, to prove herself a capable, trustworthy friend to
+this daughter of the chief. She looked down into the white face again,
+and was thrilled when the girl said:
+
+“Let me stay, father, just a little while. There’s so much sunshine
+out here in the desert, and this dear girl and I will have such a good
+time--”
+
+“Oh, yes, we will indeed!” Nevada brought in exultantly.
+
+A happy smile came again into the face of Mr. Foster. “Very well, my
+dear,” he assented. “I will go on, and leave you here.” He turned and
+said to Mrs. Buckley: “I have known your husband for some time, by his
+record. There is not a mark against him. And I feel that I know him
+better since I have witnessed what his daughter can do.”
+
+The little woman of the station house blushed proudly. He turned again
+to Nevada. “Little Doctor Lady, I’m going to leave my daughter with you
+for a week. It will require just that length of time for me to make
+the round. Remember that for real loved ones, I am alone in the world
+except for her. She is everything to me.”
+
+[Illustration: “I am going to leave my daughter with you for a week.”]
+
+A tear glittered on his cheek as he stooped and kissed his daughter’s
+white face. “Good-by, Sweetheart,” he spoke in affectionate farewell.
+“Get well. Get all the sunshine you can. Be careful, and obey the
+orders of the Little Doctor Lady!”
+
+She clung to him a moment, with her well hand, and then let him go. He
+rose quickly, erect and alert, a railroad man again. “Sam,” he spoke
+to the porter, “bring her suit case and luggage bag from the car. She
+will need nothing more!” As he went out of the door he called to the
+conductor, who paced restlessly back and forth. “All ready, Ralston,”
+he said. “Make quick time to Sand Ridge!”
+
+Nevada, stooping by the sofa, with the hand of the girl pressed in her
+own, heard the shrill call of the locomotive as its five long blasts
+brought in the rear brakeman. Then the bell clanged, and with a mighty
+roar, as if impatient of the delay, the superintendent’s “Special”
+whirled away into the desert night.
+
+
+
+
+_CHAPTER THREE_
+
+
+For a long while Nevada remained by the sofa. Most of the time the
+injured girl lay dozing. As often as she opened her eyes she found
+herself looking into Nevada’s radiant face. Then a smile passed between
+them.
+
+Trains went by, following each other rapidly, trains that had been
+halted and delayed by the “Special’s” unexpected stop at Silver
+Thistle. At eleven o’clock Nevada’s father returned from his run.
+She heard him roll the little speeder into the tool house, and a few
+minutes later came the sound of his thick-soled shoes on the floor.
+Mrs. Buckley met him in the kitchen and in low tones informed him of
+the presence of the superintendent’s daughter in the station-house.
+
+Before retiring, Mrs. Buckley and Nevada moved the patient to the bed
+in the latter’s room. Nevada herself, took the sofa having moved it
+near the open door. With the lamp turned so low that it filled the
+little apartment with a soft, subdued glow, she prepared to keep watch
+through the night. Twice she dressed the injured finger, carefully
+and tenderly. She was pleased to note that the inflammation was much
+reduced and that the girl slept more quietly.
+
+“She will be almost well of the sting tomorrow,” Nevada declared
+happily. “And we will have such a good time together.”
+
+Nevada had never known the joy of close fellowship with a girl of
+her own age. All her life she had been without a playmate. She
+had never gone to school, even for a day. Her mother had been her
+teacher and companion, and the only home she had ever known was the
+station-house close by the railroad, always in some remote place. Her
+only acquaintances, the big-hearted men of the train crews who could
+not play with her, although they had ever been her devoted friends,
+bringing her sweets and toys, and waving their bronzed hands in happy
+recognition from the time she could lift her own chubby ones in
+response.
+
+Now that a girl of her own age had come into her life, her cup of
+happiness was so full she could not sleep. As often as the patient
+moved, Nevada rose quickly, eager to render any service she could give.
+Late in the night the patient sank into a calm, peaceful slumber. Then
+it was that Nevada turned the lamp lower and went to sleep. When she
+awoke, the bright, dazzling sun of the desert was streaming in through
+the window. She heard her mother at work in the kitchen. From the
+pump-house came the irregular “Put-put Put-put!” of the gasoline engine
+as it labored vigorously in its work of refilling the deplenished tank.
+She knew by this that her father was up and at work. As a usual thing
+she was out in the tool house with him, or in the kitchen with her
+mother at this time of day. She heard a slight movement from the bed,
+and looking over, saw her patient sitting up.
+
+“Isn’t it a lovely morning!” exclaimed the superintendent’s daughter.
+“And I feel fine. My hand does not pain me at all.”
+
+“I am so glad,” returned Nevada. “I’ll bring you fresh water and you
+can dress at your leisure, that is, if you feel like getting up.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I want to get up! I’m not an invalid. We must fill these days
+full, you know.”
+
+The young guest thanked her hostess as she brought basin and water and
+then she added, “Just a moment, please. Before you go I want to ask
+your name. I haven’t heard it yet.”
+
+“It’s Nevada,” was the answer, the radiant glow of the desert in her
+cheeks and the brightness of the desert stars in her eyes.
+
+“Nevada,” the other girl repeated. “Nevada, a lovely name, and it fits
+you,” she said frankly. “And now I’ll tell you mine. It is Debue.”
+
+“Oh, that is the name of your father’s car,” said Nevada.
+
+“Yes, he named it in my honor,” Debue informed her.
+
+“It is certainly a pretty name. And now that we are fully acquainted,
+you’ll call me Nevada, or ‘Neva,’ if you like, just as do father and
+mother and Jerry Kerrigan.”
+
+“That will be lovely,” Debue agreed, as she sprang out of bed. “We’re
+going to have a big time together. And you will call me Debue.”
+
+The “big time together” had its beginning soon after breakfast. The
+stipulation of Debue was that it must not interfere with the regular
+work of her hostess, and though the injured hand prevented her from
+giving much assistance, she did help Nevada with her household tasks.
+Then they visited the pump-house where the busy gasoline engine kept
+up its noisy chugging. They watched the coming and the going of the
+trains. They received letters, messages and bundles from men of
+the crew. They even gathered an armload of the pink-tinted thistle
+blossoms, plucking only those that stood away from rocks and sage
+clumps where the dreaded scorpions might lie in hiding. Before noon
+came they seemed as well acquainted as though they had always been
+together.
+
+[Illustration: They received bundles from men of the crew.]
+
+Late in the afternoon, when supper was over, the dishes cleared away
+and Bob Buckley had gone out on his regular evening trip with the
+speeder to light the signal lamps, the two girls took a short walk
+into the desert. The sun had gone down behind the Funeral Range. The
+dazzling golden light of day was replaced with the subdued shades of
+dusk, shades that changed from crimson to lavender, from lavender to
+purple. The shimmering heat waves were driven away by a cooling breeze.
+The desert, with its vast, far-reaching border lines came out in clear
+outline. Distant sand ridges, buttes and ranges that could not be seen
+during the day, were now clearly visible. Desert birds, that had been
+hushed and silent through the hours of dazzling heat, now opened their
+throats and sang.
+
+“I did not know the desert was so beautiful, and yet so vast and
+mysterious,” spoke Debue, as the two, walking hand in hand, reached
+the summit of a sand ridge a mile from the station. They had followed
+a dim trail made by Nevada in her regular wanderings. After crossing a
+broad, mesquite-grown mesa, they dropped down into a dry, shale-floored
+coulee, and then climbed the ridge beyond. Here they stood looking
+around them. To the utter amazement of the visitor, they had reached,
+in this brief time, a spot that seemed isolation itself. Silver
+Thistle, with its cluster of yellow buildings, the railroad with its
+line of telegraph poles and lifting semaphores, all were blotted
+out. It was as if the whole world were a desert, and they its only
+inhabitants.
+
+“I can’t understand it!” exclaimed Debue in surprise. “We have not come
+far. The station must be right over there!” she said, raising her hand
+and pointing across the mesa.
+
+Nevada laughed merrily. “You would miss it a long way, if you went in
+that direction to find it,” she said.
+
+“Then I must be lost,” admitted Debue.
+
+“Not exactly that,” Nevada corrected. “You’re confused a little in
+direction, that’s all. I had the same difficulty when I first came out
+here. This old desert is very deceiving to the eye, and this particular
+spot is especially so. The station is hidden behind that lifting sand
+ridge over there. When we dropped into the coulee we lost sight of it,
+and we made a turn in climbing up here. I call this my lookout, and
+I often come out here in the evening just to catch the spirit of the
+desert.”
+
+They stood for a time, silently, held speechless by the wonder and awe
+of the vast arid waste around them. The world seemed a long way off.
+Then came a sound, a dull, distant rumble that grew louder and louder
+as the moments passed. Not until the musical tritone of a locomotive
+whistle lifted clear and distinct as a bugle call, did Debue realize
+that it was the sound of an approaching train.
+
+“It’s Number Sixteen,” said Nevada, and then she added in tones of
+infinite meaning, “Do you know it has been almost a whole day since you
+came?”
+
+“A very happy day it has been for me,” Debue told her.
+
+“The very happiest day in all my life,” the desert girl added.
+
+They turned from the ridge, and hand in hand, walked slowly through the
+growing dark toward the station-house. They were tired, both of them,
+and they made ready at once to retire. Again it was arranged for Debue
+to occupy Nevada’s bed, while the latter prepared to sleep on the sofa
+near the open door. Debue’s hand was dressed for the last time, Nevada
+assuring her the bandage could be removed on the morrow.
+
+A few minutes after getting into bed, Debue was soundly asleep. Nevada
+put out the light and soon followed her into dreamland. How long
+she slept she did not know. Some time in the night she awoke with
+a start, and found herself sitting up, carried at once from utter
+unconsciousness to complete wakefulness. She looked toward the bed.
+The window curtain had been rolled to the top and the window left wide
+open. A silvery desert moonlight poured in. She could see every corner
+of the room, the white sheets of the bed, and the head of the sleeping
+Debue on the pillow. Nevada knew she was sleeping, by her long, regular
+breathing. Absolute stillness filled the station-house. In a vague way
+Nevada realized that a train had passed, yet she knew no train had
+awakened her. Something else had disturbed her sleep and she looked
+around with a feeling of alarm.
+
+She got up and tiptoed to the clock in the living-room. It was a
+quarter of one. Her father had been home almost two hours, so it could
+not have been his coming that awoke her. Debue had not called or made
+any unusual sound. What was it, then? Some unusual sound had awakened
+her, of this she was certain.
+
+She took a peep into the kitchen, then came back toward the sofa. Just
+as she entered the open door of her room, she was startled by a slight
+sound outside, a sound that seemed to come from near the window. She
+paused, peered intently in that direction and heard the sound resolve
+into a low, muffled tread. While she looked, the dark form of a man,
+stooping low, crept away from the house and moved slowly toward the
+railroad.
+
+
+
+
+_CHAPTER FOUR_
+
+
+Nevada first believed that the man who crept away from the
+station-house, and disappeared in the direction of the water tank, was
+a tramp. She knew that a freight train had passed not more than an hour
+before, after making the usual stop for water at Silver Thistle. She
+knew, also, that the train crews, out of regard for the people of the
+isolated station, as well as for the unfortunate tramps, allowed the
+latter to continue their journey unmolested. It was not likely a tramp
+would get off a train at a lonely pump-station in the middle of the
+desert.
+
+Then who could this man be? Why was he prowling about the station-house
+at such an hour? These were questions for which she could find no
+reasonable answer. She stood a full minute or longer in the middle of
+the little room looking out into the night. The dark, stealthily moving
+form disappeared and no other sounds followed, no voices, no footfalls.
+As far as she knew, nothing had been disturbed about the station. Yet
+she believed the man had been in the room, had passed out through the
+open window, and that his going had awakened her.
+
+She walked quietly over to the stand near the bed on which had been
+placed the jeweled wrist-watch, the gold necklace and the rings of the
+magnate’s daughter. The silvery beams of the moon fell with a reflected
+radiance upon the jewels. All were there, undisturbed, just as they had
+been placed the evening before. If the midnight prowler had entered the
+house, he had not come for the purpose of robbery, of this she felt
+certain.
+
+Determined that the visit should not be repeated, she quietly lowered
+the window, fastened it, and dropped the upper sash to admit the cool
+night air. As she looked out again over the desert waste, there came
+to her sensitive ear a distant sound like the long-drawn call of a
+human voice. The call was answered immediately from a more distant
+point; then silence fell over the desert. Nevada knew the sound
+could have been made by a pair of coyotes calling to each other from
+neighboring sand ridges, and this thought, followed by a deep-toned
+rumble of an approaching train, drove away her fears.
+
+She returned to the sofa and was asleep when the long freight train,
+drawn by its two thirsty moguls, stopped for a drink at the water tank.
+She was happily surprised on waking early in the morning, to find
+Debue already up and dressed, and the room filled by the sun with a
+glory-fire.
+
+“I beat you,” cried Debue, her eyes sparkling, pink in her cheeks, and
+an eagerness and buoyancy in her every movement.
+
+“I’m the lazy one this time,” her hostess admitted. “But I’ll soon be
+dressed.”
+
+“I’m going to help get breakfast,” Debue declared. “I’m well this
+morning. There’s not a bit of soreness in my hand, and I can do work,
+real, sure-enough work now.” Debue spoke as if this would be the finest
+thing in the world. She gave Nevada’s round cheek a friendly pat and
+hurried out. A little later Nevada heard her tripping lightly to and
+fro in the little kitchen.
+
+This day proved a happier one for the two girls than the day that
+preceded it. When the east-bound Limited halted for a drink, the
+gray head of Jerry Kerrigan was thrust out of the cab windows. There
+was a broad smile on the old engineer’s face when he tossed down the
+customary bundle and looked into two pairs of laughing eyes.
+
+[Illustration: He tossed down the customary bundle.]
+
+“I’m almost glad it happened!” he said, when Nevada told the story of
+the scorpion’s sting.
+
+“And we are, too!” the pair answered truthfully.
+
+“But I hope it will not happen again,” added the engineer with a
+hearty laugh as he touched his gloved hand to the throttle of the huge
+engine. The long Limited moved forward, and as Jerry doffed his cap in
+farewell he called to the girls, “Have a fine time together!”
+
+“We will! We will!” they answered.
+
+The day went rapidly by, and so did other days that quickly followed,
+Nevada did not count them, because she wanted that week to last as long
+as possible. Only one thing troubled her and that was the visit of the
+mysterious night prowler. She thought at first she should report the
+matter to her father, but concluded it would only cause him unnecessary
+worry. For the same good reason she said nothing about it to Debue.
+When the opportunity allowed, she made an examination of the tracks in
+the sandy yard. It was this investigation that brought her the gravest
+concern. The tracks, she discovered, did lead to the window. Moreover,
+there were grains of sand on the sill, and on the floor of the room.
+
+In view of this discovery she could form but one conclusion. The
+prowler had entered the house. But he had taken nothing. It might have
+been that her waking caused him to make an exit before any stealing
+could be done. He had left Silver Thistle, as he had undoubtedly come,
+on a passing freight train. Having reached this final conclusion,
+Nevada dismissed the incident from her mind.
+
+She did not have cause to worry about it again until late in the week.
+As she and Debue were on the “lookout” beyond the coulee, watching the
+changing colors paint the desert in a sunset glory, her keen eyes,
+scanning a distant sand ridge, caught for a moment an object that
+appeared above the purple hazed clumps of mesquite. She looked at it
+intently, a full half-minute. An object, with the appearance of the
+head and shoulders of a man, stood up plainly, remained quiet while she
+looked, and then dropped down again.
+
+What a lone man could be doing out there in the desert, and why he
+should attempt to hide, were beyond her understanding. She was at once
+reminded of that creeping night-prowler and her fears returned. She
+held her gaze so long and intently on the distant ridge that Debue
+became curious.
+
+“What do you see, Neva?” she wanted to know.
+
+“Nothing, at least nothing now,” Nevada answered. “I thought I saw
+something over there on the ridge. It has disappeared.”
+
+In spite of her best efforts to forget the incident, Nevada was silent
+and concerned as they strolled back through the twilight.
+
+There was one truth on the minds of both that brought a feeling of
+dismay. This would be their last night together! The week had gone by
+on swift-flying wings. And what changes that week had wrought. Debue
+had absorbed the spirit of the desert, the sunshine had fairly poured
+into her, browning her neck and arms and bringing a healthy glow to her
+cheeks. So attached had the two become to each other that it was with
+deep regret that they thought of parting.
+
+Neither of them mentioned the parting of the morrow, but they were
+reminded of it the next day. Jerry Kerrigan, when the Limited came
+through, had a letter to deliver. “It’s from the chief,” he said,
+putting it in the extended hand of Debue. The kindly face of the old
+engineer wore an expression of soberness. “I really hate to give it to
+you,” he added. “It’s transfer orders from the chief.” He smiled then
+and the girls knew what he meant. It was a letter from Superintendent
+Foster, which, when seated on the kitchen step, Debue read aloud.
+
+  My Dear Daughter:
+
+  I was glad to get a good report of you today from Jerry. Your quick
+  recovery speaks well for the little doctor lady’s treatment and
+  the good desert sunshine. I shall expect to see a healthy coat of
+  tan----and a few freckles wouldn’t matter.
+
+  This is to inform you, though, that the “Special” will be due at
+  Silver Thistle at nine-forty-five, Thursday evening. Be ready to
+  leave at that time. I have been lonely without you. Give my sincere
+  regards and best wishes to your little comrade, and to her mother
+  and father. Good-by, until Thursday evening.
+
+                                              Your devoted Father.
+
+There were tears in the eyes of both girls when Debue finished reading.
+Kind as was the message, it brought upon them the realization that
+their time for being together could now be counted by hours and
+minutes. No comments were offered, none were needed. But hand in hand,
+the activities of the day were resumed with increased vivacity.
+
+Sunset came again, and with it the changing colors of the painted
+desert, the cooling breath of night, the full-throated, ever-delightful
+melodies of the nightingale.
+
+The girls had hoped to go together to the “lookout” beyond the coulee
+for this last evening together. But it so happened that Nevada had
+to operate the gasoline engine in the pump-house for nearly an hour
+after her father went out on the usual run. To avoid the possibility
+of missing the sunset glories, Debue concluded she would go alone, and
+wait there for Nevada. The two had been over the trail so many times of
+late that neither had any fear of losing the way.
+
+“I’ll join you in half an hour,” Nevada said, “so go ahead, Debue. Just
+remember to swing round to the right after you cross the mesa and drop
+down into the coulee.”
+
+“I’ll get there all right, even if I am a tenderfoot!” Debue said
+merrily as she struck out into the desert. From the pump-house door,
+Nevada saw the trim figure of her friend disappear in the crimson glow.
+
+It proved to be three-quarters of an hour before the tank was filled.
+But with a true railroader’s sense of duty, Nevada did not leave
+until the gage indicated that the water level had reached the highest
+point. Then she shut down the engine, closed the door, tossed off the
+grease-stained apron that had protected her dress, washed her hands,
+and hurried out across the desert. The first purple shades of dusk
+were lowering. Night was not far off, and fearing that Debue would
+grow tired of waiting, Nevada quickened her steps. Nearly across the
+mesa, her pace slackened. She observed that the strong north wind of
+the day had blown new sand across the path, until in places the trail
+was completely obliterated. At the coulee, Nevada halted abruptly, and
+uttered a low cry of alarm. Debue’s tracks had disappeared!
+
+Anxiously watching for footprints Nevada ran on until the trail came
+out plain again. Though she stooped and looked searchingly, she could
+find no fresh tracks to indicate that Debue had lately passed. She got
+to her feet, rigid and tense, and lifted a fear-filled face to the
+darkening sky. “Can it be possible,” she asked herself with a feeling
+of terror, “that Debue is lost--lost out here on the desert!”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_CHAPTER FIVE_
+
+
+So intense was Nevada’s fear that Debue was lost, that she stood like
+one paralyzed. A score of terrorizing possibilities, connected with the
+mysterious appearance of that midnight prowler and of the man’s head
+that had appeared for a moment above the sand ridge came into her mind.
+
+At length she started forward, then dropped again to scan the trail
+closely. It was getting dark now and tracks of any sort were hard to
+see, yet there were no new footprints on the sand-blown path. Then
+she made a trumpet of her hands and called and called; then listened
+intently. There was no responding cry. A breathless quietude settled
+over the desert. The nightingales were hushed. It was as if all living
+creatures of the vast sand wastes had gone to sleep. “Oh, Debue, Debue!
+Why did I let you go?” she cried aloud, but the great void around her
+brought no echoing cry.
+
+[Illustration: She made a trumpet of her hands and called.]
+
+The rumble of a train, far away in the distance, reminded her that
+in a few short hours the superintendent’s “Special” would arrive at
+Silver Thistle. If Debue were not there to meet her father--it was too
+dreadful a thing to contemplate. She recalled the last words of the
+chief, spoken to her as he firmly gripped her hand and gazed into her
+face, “I leave her in your care. She is everything to me. I am going to
+trust you!”
+
+To her belonged the true spirit of the railroad, which meant that
+failure of duty, failure to make good on a trust imposed, was an
+unpardonable sin. Tears streamed down Nevada’s face as she paced up and
+down the ridge, wrung her hands helplessly and shouted out over the
+desert. It was not that she lacked courage, but the thought that Debue
+was lost because of her own neglect all but overwhelmed her.
+
+But she realized that she must go out into the desert and find her
+friend, who was possibly wandering in an aimless circle not a great
+distance from the “lookout.” She knew from the observations made of the
+trail in daylight, that Debue got off the path before she had fully
+crossed the mesa. The trail made a sweeping curve, of which fact Debue
+had probably never taken note. And, Nevada reasoned, when she got off
+the beaten path, she had gone straight ahead. On this supposition, she
+went back halfway across the mesa, then turned round and took a direct
+course from the coulee. She reached it fully a half-mile west of the
+regular trail crossing. The opposite slope was rough and broken with
+outcroppings of shale rock that still held the heat of the sun absorbed
+through the blistering day. Beyond were ravines, equally rough, but
+grown with straggling clumps of mesquite.
+
+On the summit of the knob, when she had caught her breath, she again
+gave a long, shrill call. In the stillness of the desert the pounding
+of her own heart was the loudest thing she heard. Conquering terror,
+she started on again. Debue, she believed, would naturally have
+followed the ridge, but in what direction, was a guess. The “lookout”
+path turned to the left, so to the left she went, pausing now and then
+to shout and listen.
+
+It had become lighter because the stars were brighter. But with a
+feeling of uneasiness, she observed that the handle of the Big Dipper
+was swinging up from the ragged hump of the Vermilion Cliffs. This
+meant that time was swiftly passing. Away off in the distance sounded
+the low rumble of a train. In less than two hours the superintendent’s
+“Special” would be due at Silver Thistle. The increased rumbling of
+the approaching train brought a new course of reasoning to her mind.
+Debue would undoubtedly hear it, and unless she was too badly confused,
+would take a course calculated to lead her toward the railroad. If
+she had wandered along the shale ridge, she would reach the track a
+mile or more west of the station-house. The possibility of this gave
+Nevada renewed hope and courage, and believing that she would come upon
+Debue either on some nearby sand-ridge or on the railroad, she started
+swiftly toward the tracks.
+
+But at the farther border of the mesa she halted abruptly. The distant
+edge dropped precipitately, broken by a deep coulee. At the edge of
+this her startled eyes caught the twinkle of a light almost directly
+below her. A momentary glimpse proved the light to come from a camp
+fire built of dry mesquite boughs and sagebrush. Its glow revealed the
+rough, unshaven faces of three men squatted in grotesque poses close
+around. They wore the garb, with slouched hats and leather chaps, of
+plainsmen. Behind them, dimly outlined, were three horses, saddled and
+bridled as if ready at any moment for instant service.
+
+Nevada, afraid that the men had heard her, dodged behind a mesquite
+clump and lay quietly. Her heart pounded like a trip-hammer. Her
+breathing seemed loud enough to betray her. From her position under the
+bush she tried to solve the mystery of the strange trio. Why were they
+there? Why had they made a long ride across the desert, miles from the
+main-traveled roads? Why were they hiding, and what were they waiting
+for? These questions repeated themselves over and over in her baffled
+mind.
+
+Though she had no definite reason for thinking so, she believed
+the men were connected in some way with the night prowler at the
+station-house, and the appearance of head and shoulders she had seen
+above the sand ridge while she and Debue had stood on the “lookout.”
+With these thoughts came the dreadful fear that it was the presence of
+the magnate’s daughter that had brought them there. Almost unbelievable
+as it was, the possibility that Debue might be down there, bound
+helplessly, ran through Nevada’s mind. She had heard of the daughters
+of rich men being carried off and held for ransom. That such an evil
+plot should not be carried out with her friend, she resolved she would
+risk her own life, if necessary.
+
+Discreetly Nevada decided to learn first if Debue were really down
+there, held captive by the trio. Crawling and using intervening clumps
+of mesquite to screen her approach, she moved quietly as a cat down the
+steep slope. Within twenty feet of the men a dry twig under her snapped
+with a loud, startling sound.
+
+“What was that?” she heard one of the men exclaim in a coarse voice of
+alarm.
+
+“Sounded like a mesquite a-poppin’,” another replied.
+
+“Then there must be somethin’ comin’ down into the draw!” declared the
+man who had first spoken.
+
+“Don’t get excited, Bill,” said the third man, assuringly. “You’ll need
+steady nerves if we put this job through.”
+
+“Just the same, it pays to be careful,” the nervous one said.
+
+The creak of leather chaps and the jingle of spurs conveyed to Nevada
+the information that the trio had lifted themselves from their
+squatting position.
+
+She knew that those peering eyes were searching the surrounding
+growth, and that the ears of the three were listening intently. Her
+heart almost stopped beating, when from a distant ridge a long-drawn,
+tremulous cry came shrill and far-reaching.
+
+“Now you ought to know what got on your nerves, Bill,” spoke one of the
+men with a low chuckle.
+
+“A coyote, eh?”
+
+“Yes, nothin’ but a coyote!” the other two declared positively.
+
+“Them critters have mighty queer voices. Sometimes they sound almost
+human,” one of the three added knowingly. “Most of the time, on nights
+like this, they sound howlishly inhuman.”
+
+Once more the girl under the mesquite heard the jingle of spurs. She
+took a long breath of relief, for she knew the men were again squatted
+round the fire. Her ears were strained tensely to catch every word
+spoken.
+
+
+
+
+_CHAPTER SIX_
+
+
+While Nevada listened, she again heard that long-drawn, tremulous cry.
+It seemed nearer this time.
+
+“I tell you that doesn’t sound like a coyote to me!” persisted the
+nervous one of the trio squatted round the fire.
+
+“Easy, Bill, easy!” one of the other two cautioned. “Keep your boots
+on. You ought to know that with the exception of that woman and the two
+girls over at the station-house, there ain’t another human being within
+fifty miles o’ here.”
+
+Nevada took a quick breath. Debue was not held a captive, because the
+men believed that she was at that moment in the station-house at Silver
+Thistle. Her ears caught the words that followed.
+
+“The superintendent’s girl is over there all right. I’ve seen her off
+and on for the past week. She and that desert girl have been scamperin’
+about like a couple of young yearlin’s. I had to hang around purdy
+close in order to get the information I wanted. I know for sure that
+the ‘Special’ will come through tonight. And it’ll stop at Silver
+Thistle to git water and pick up the girl of the big boss.”
+
+So it was the coming of the “Special” that caused the men to be there.
+But why were they waiting? What interest could they have in the private
+train of the superintendent?
+
+“I was hid behind the pump-house when the Limited came through,” the
+same voice of the trio went on to relate. “I saw the engineer hand the
+girls a letter. It was from the big boss. Later on I heard the girls
+talkin’ about it. I know from what they said that the ‘Special’ is due
+here at nine-forty-five!”
+
+Nevada now understood why that midnight prowler had been sneaking about
+the station-house, and why he had been spying upon them during the days
+that followed. The mystery was further explained by words that floated
+up to her from around the camp fire.
+
+“I know positively that the paymaster’s car will be hitched on to the
+‘Special,’” said another one of the trio. “I learned this by hangin’
+around the telegraph office down at Sand Ridge siding last night. The
+division crews want real money for their pay, and there’ll sure be a
+big pile of cash in the safe. The job ought to be easy, once we get on
+the train. None of ’em will be lookin’ for trouble at Silver Thistle.”
+
+Crouched under the mesquite, Nevada became tense as she learned why
+the men were there. They were highwaymen, lying in wait to rob the
+paymaster’s car. Theirs was a daring plot, artfully planned. She could
+see that all three of them wore leather belts, heavy with cartridges;
+all carried revolvers, and against a mesquite bush near the fire,
+leaned three rifles, their polished barrels glistening in the light.
+
+Action, instant action, she knew would be necessary if the plot were
+to be frustrated. She guessed it was eight o’clock. In a little more
+than an hour the “Special” would arrive. The dreadful possibility that
+it would be met by a band of desperadoes, while the daughter of the
+magnate wandered, lost on the desert, drove the girl into a frenzy.
+With lightning speed she reviewed the various possibilities.
+
+Could she, alone and unaided, within three-quarters of an hour,
+find Debue, and warn the approaching “Special” of its danger? It
+seemed utterly impossible, a task too great for one like her to
+accomplish in so short a time, but in her ears echoed the words of the
+superintendent, “I’m going to trust you!”
+
+Her courage rose quickly. She would not fail in the trust that had been
+placed in her. Quietly, but swiftly, she crept away from the bush and
+up the slope to the mesa. Beyond the hearing of the men in the ravine,
+she got to her feet and started forward. But a little distance from the
+coulee she heard, for the third time, the long-drawn, tremulous cry.
+She knew now it was not the wail of a coyote. It was the cry of a human
+being in distress. It must be--yes, it must be the voice of Debue!
+
+Nevada was driven frantic with the truth that it would be unsafe for
+her to answer the cry, and thus alarm the men in the coulee. All she
+could do was to rush onward in the direction of the sound. Several
+times she fell headlong. Her dress was torn by the thorny brush of the
+chaparral that grew along the rocks. Her arms, hands and face were
+scratched by thistles and pointed shale, but to these Nevada paid no
+heed. Her only thought was that ahead of her, in the darkness, wandered
+her friend, and she had to find her.
+
+Finally she heard just ahead of her that long-drawn call, and standing
+on the crest of the ridge, a slender figure was plainly outlined in the
+starlight.
+
+Joyfully she called as loudly as she could, “Oh, Debue! Debue!”
+
+Down the ridge rushed the girl. For a time the reunited pair, laughing
+and crying, and speaking wild, incoherent things, remained locked in
+a fond embrace. Weak and exhausted they settled upon the sand still
+clinging to each other.
+
+“What a silly girl I’ve been!” Debue said finally.
+
+“It was all my fault. I should not have let you go out alone,” Nevada
+protested.
+
+“But I should not be such a helpless creature,” Debue returned. “I kept
+wandering around,” she continued. “Finally I heard a train. Listen! I
+hear another one, away off yonder!”
+
+“It’s the ‘Special’!” cried Nevada, leaping up. Instantly a course of
+action took form in her mind.
+
+“It’s bringing father!” Debue said excitedly. “I had almost forgotten.
+What will he think if I’m not there to meet him?”
+
+“We are going to meet him, Debue!” Nevada said. “We must meet the
+‘Special’ before it reaches Silver Thistle--”
+
+“Before it reaches Silver Thistle?” interrupted Debue in a tone of
+amazement. “I do not understand: What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean just this,” Nevada answered, dropping her voice and looking
+around cautiously as if afraid of being heard. “In my search for you,
+I accidentally ran across some men who were in hiding down in a deep
+coulee. They have saddle horses and are heavily armed. They have
+planned to hold up the ‘Special’ when it stops at Silver Thistle. The
+paymaster’s car is attached to the train, and it is the money in that
+car they intend to get!”
+
+“Oh!” cried Debue.
+
+“But it must not happen!” Nevada added intensely.
+
+“How can we prevent it, just two against a band of armed men?” Debue
+asked in tones of incredulity.
+
+“We can do it and we must!” Nevada cried. “It is only a quarter of
+a mile to the railroad! We must run over there quickly--and warn
+the ‘Special’! Will you come with me?” Nevada put her face close to
+her friend’s. And Debue could feel the tenseness of her gaze--feel
+the warmth of glowing cheeks close to her own. The purpose and
+determination of Nevada renewed her courage. She felt at once more
+strong, more capable. A week before, she would have shrunk from the
+mere thought of such a thing. But a week on the desert, in the company
+of this courageous, red-blooded girl, had taught her many things. She
+lifted herself erect, filled with a new purpose. “If you go, I go!” she
+cried tensely.
+
+“We must hurry! We haven’t a second to spare!” said Nevada starting
+down into the shale-strewn coulee, up onto the mesa, and across the
+sand, as fast as her feet could take her. Debue was but a few steps
+behind.
+
+A mile west of the station-house a semaphore stood like a gaunt
+sentinel close by the track. At the end of its long drooping arm, as if
+grasped in a closed hand, reposed a muffled red light, which blinked
+its danger sign only at such times as the arm was raised. Nevada knew
+that that arm would not lift unless another train stood in the way. The
+thing she wanted was that red light.
+
+On reaching the track, the girls were gasping as if their last breath
+were spent. Up the track a bright eye gleamed, and the growing thunder
+of the revolving wheels told that the “Special” was speeding across the
+desert.
+
+“Quick, Debue, quick,” cried Nevada, as they halted at the semaphore.
+“Be ready to take the light when I hand it down!”
+
+Nimbly, swiftly, Nevada climbed the rounds of the iron ladder, and
+then swinging out, reached and took the red lamp from its place in the
+lowered arm. The whistle of the “Special’s” engine sent a long call
+echoing across the desert. It was but a short mile away and coming on
+with a roar.
+
+[Illustration: Nevada took the red lamp from its place in the lowered
+arm.]
+
+“Here, Debue. Reach up. Take it!” said Nevada as she reached down
+and dropped the lamp into Debue’s upraised hand. Then she let go and
+fell in a heap at the foot of the semaphore, but was on her feet
+again in an instant, took the light from Debue, and swung it back and
+forth in regular movements across the track. The headlight of the
+swift-approaching train was blinding to the eyes of the pair that
+stood directly in the middle of the track. The “Special” charged
+toward them, its speed undiminished, until it seemed as if it would
+rush on, unheeding. But the girls held their place, and swung the red
+light--swung it, until the two sharp toots of the whistle told them
+their signal had been recognized.
+
+“Jump, Debue! Get out of the way!” Nevada cried as she took her friend
+by the hand and leaped into the ditch.
+
+They fell headlong. The red lamp was hurled forward, while the great
+locomotive, hissing like some monster of the night, roared close over
+them. In its wake, followed the long cars with sparks flying from the
+tracks as the steel brakes bit the wheels. The “Special” slipped to a
+halt with the railed platform of the superintendent’s car directly over
+the exhausted pair. In half a minute, Superintendent Foster, anxious
+and wondering, followed the conductor down the steps.
+
+“Something is wrong!” said the conductor in a tone of alarm. “We’re a
+mile from Silver Thistle. The engineer must have been signaled, but
+there’s no train near us--”
+
+“We signaled you!” cried Nevada as she scrambled to her feet. One more
+step and the conductor would have stumbled upon them, but turning the
+lantern he saw the two disheveled, exhausted girls. Fast in his wake
+came Mr. Foster.
+
+“Why, it’s Debue! And the Little Doctor Lady!” cried the chief as he
+sprang forward and took his daughter in his arms. “Bless me--what has
+happened?” he asked.
+
+“Some men--are at Silver Thistle--to hold up the train!” gasped Nevada
+between breaths.
+
+“Well! Well--if you are not a plucky pair!” exclaimed the
+superintendent. “Help me--let’s get them into the car. Warn McKenzie.
+We must run past the station and come back later. The fellows will know
+then that we suspect them!” he ordered.
+
+The two exhausted girls were helped to a big leather couch inside the
+car, the “Special” moved on, and passed Silver Thistle with a roar. The
+three men in hiding, outwitted and alarmed, fled into the night. When
+the “Special” backed into Silver Thistle half an hour later, an anxious
+woman stood on the platform, near the station-house, wondering why
+the two girls had not returned--wondering, too, why the “Special” had
+rushed by. But the arms of Nevada were soon clasped around her neck,
+and the season of anxiety came to a happy termination.
+
+Again the superintendent’s “Special” tarried at Silver Thistle for
+a whole hour, while impatient trains were held at stations along
+the line. Inside the little station-house quick consultations and
+portentous decisions were made. Mr. Foster spoke warmly to the father
+and mother.
+
+“Your daughter is just the medicine my daughter needs,” he declared.
+“I never saw her look so well or so happy. You let us take Nevada east
+with us, and for her companionship she shall study at the Highland
+Academy with Debue.”
+
+The girls look at each other, too happy to speak. Glad, half-wistful
+glances passed between Mr. and Mrs. Buckley. “It is what we have always
+wanted to do for Nevada,” smilingly spoke the little woman. “We shall
+miss her, but of course she may go!”
+
+The two girls, forgetting their recent exhaustion, jumped to their feet
+and dancing and whirling around the room they joyfully cried, “It’s too
+good to be true!”
+
+
+THE END.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Notes
+
+ • Italics represented with surrounding _underscores_.
+
+ • Small caps converted to ALL CAPS.
+
+ • Illustrations relocated close to relevant content.
+
+ • Obvious typographic errors silently corrected.
+
+ • Table of Contents added by the transcriber for reader convenience.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77180 ***
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+</head>
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77180 ***</div>
+<p class='center'>This ebook was created in honor of<br>
+               Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th Anniversary.</p>
+
+<div class='mt2'>
+<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="cover" style="max-width: 112.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book Cover">
+</figure>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<h1><i>The Girl at Silver<br> Thistle</i></h1>
+
+<div class='hrblock'>
+<hr class='title1'>
+<hr class='title2'>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="author"><i>By Max Hale</i></p>
+
+<div class='colophon'>
+<figure class="figcenter illowp-colophon" id="colophon" style="max-width: 12.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="Colophon">
+</figure>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pub1"><i>Published By</i></p>
+<p class='pub2'>THE DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING CO.</p>
+<p class='pub3'><i>Elgin</i>  <i>Chicago</i>  <i>New&ensp;York</i>  <i>Boston</i></p>
+<p class='pub4'>Publishing House and Mailing Rooms, Elgin, Ill.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p>
+
+
+  <p class='half-title'>
+    <i>The Girl at Silver<br>
+    Thistle</i>
+  </p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span></p>
+<p class='copyright'>
+  <span class="smcap">Copyright, 1919,</span><br>
+  <span class="smcap">By David C. Cook Publishing Co.,</span><br>
+  <span class="allsmcap">ELGIN, ILLINOIS.</span>
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='poetry-container'>
+<div class='poetry'>
+<p class='no-indent'>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_ONE"><i>CHAPTER ONE</i></a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_TWO"><i>CHAPTER TWO</i></a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_THREE"><i>CHAPTER THREE</i></a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR"><i>CHAPTER FOUR</i></a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE"><i>CHAPTER FIVE</i></a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_SIX"><i>CHAPTER SIX</i></a><br>
+</p>
+</div></div>
+
+
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span></p>
+  <p class='quarter-title'>
+    <i>The Girl at Silver<br>
+    Thistle</i>
+  </p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='r10'>
+
+<p class='author author2'><i>By Max Hale</i></p>
+
+<hr class='r10'>
+
+
+ <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_ONE">
+    <i>CHAPTER ONE</i>
+  </h2>
+
+
+<p class='drop-cap'><span class='allcap'>Though</span> it was only five-thirty, supper was over
+in the yellow station-house at Silver Thistle.
+Nevada Buckley, singing as merrily as the nightingale,
+had put away the broom and the floor mop,
+in the regular task of helping her mother keep the
+little house tidy. Through the open window of the
+kitchen, came the staccato firing of a motor exhaust. Without
+looking at the clock on the shelf, the girl knew it was
+exactly twenty-eight minutes to six. Also and without
+looking toward the railroad, she knew that her father,
+Robert Buckley, had shut down the gas engine that pumped
+water into the big red tank. He was hauling out the
+“speeder” to make his regular evening run over the line
+to place the lamps in the block signals. Regularity and
+routine, even away out there on the desert, were things
+of importance at Silver Thistle. Nevada turned and saw
+her mother lay the last of the three sandwiches in her
+father’s lunch pail. The lid was clamped on. The girl
+picked up the pail and hurried out. In a moment she had
+skipped down the track and placed it in the hamper of the
+little car. Her father was seated and ready for the start.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How is the tank, father?” she asked shouting her
+words in his ear so as to be heard above the loud firing
+of the motor.</p>
+
+<p>“Plenty of water, Neva,” he told her. “You won’t
+need to start the engine this evening.” He had his hand
+on the clutch lever, and the car started forward as he
+shouted back, “but there’ll be a ‘Special’ through at
+six-twenty. Jim Fuson, who went through on Number
+Ten, told me about it. It will follow Number Sixteen.”
+He was gone then, with the speed of a rocket, straight
+toward the setting sun. As the “speeder” shot away, he
+waved a bronzed hand both to the girl on the track and
+to the one who stood in the door of the station-house.</p>
+
+<p>“A ‘Special’!” said Nevada to herself. “I wonder
+what it could be? Father didn’t say—and Jim Fuson may
+not have told him. I wonder and oh, I hope it’s the
+private car of Superintendent Foster!” She spoke these
+latter words with an eagerness that proved a keen desire.
+Let it be said that in the life of those who lived at
+Silver Thistle, in the heart of the great Mohave desert,
+the “comings and goings” of the trains were events of
+importance. And “Specials” being out of the ordinary,
+were peculiarly so, for they, like all others, had to stop
+at Silver Thistle for water. And this gave the girl of
+the little yellow station-house an opportunity to catch
+fleeting glimpses of the dignitaries and officials of the road,
+the big men who traveled in private coaches, and who had
+servants to wait upon them. Famous singers, governors
+of states, and millionaires also traveled that way, and all
+of them had to stop at Silver Thistle.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a great deal of notice most of these big or
+famous folk gave to the ruddy-cheeked girl at the lonely
+pump-station. And Nevada had only a fleeting peep at
+most of them through the polished plate-glass windows.
+Yet there was one who <i>had</i> noticed her. This one was a
+girl like herself—like herself in years only. For this
+other girl was not ruddy-cheeked, with arms and neck
+tanned brown by the desert sun and wind. She was, as
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>
+Nevada caught sight of her, just a slender slip of a girl,
+with pale cheeks and big, appealing eyes. Nevada remembered
+those eyes, for they had looked through the
+wide window of the big private car straight down at her.
+She had even smiled, a sweet, kindly smile, when the desert
+girl returned her gaze!</p>
+
+<p>That was a month ago, when the private car of Superintendent
+Foster, on its regular round, paused at Silver Thistle.
+Now it was time for the big car, with its brightly varnished
+body and shining brass rails to arrive again. Nevada
+wondered if the pale-faced girl, with the appealing
+eyes, would look out and smile at her again through the
+wide plate-glass window.</p>
+
+<p>Hopefully and expectantly, she returned to the house,
+singing as before. She gave her mother’s glowing face a
+fond touch of the hand as she went through the door and
+passed on to her own room. Here she took down a book
+she had been reading, but she could not get interested in
+the story. Seated by the open window, she kept lifting
+her eyes to look down the railroad track of which the long
+lines of shimmering steel faded away in the distance. Silver
+Thistle, with its group of three tiny buildings and a
+water tank, was an oasis in the desert. Around the lonely
+station spread endless miles of yellow sand, broken only by
+clumps of gray-green mesquite. Away over on the border
+line—on the very edge of the world, it seemed, the Funeral
+Range formed a dim, zigzagged line between earth and
+sky.</p>
+
+<p>Once, when Nevada raised her eyes and looked down the
+track, she saw a black dot appear at the end of the shimmering
+line. This dot seemed to dance about at first, as
+if playing with the heat waves; but it grew larger and
+steadier as the moments passed, soon resolving itself into
+the form of a locomotive trailed by a long line of passenger
+cars. Across the desert it came, its swift passage now
+marked by a rumbling roar, and hurling the dust in a long,
+thin cloud. When the musical tritone of the whistle
+reached her, Nevada closed her book with a snap and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>
+leaned out of the window. In less than a minute Number
+Seven, with a loud screeching of its brakes, slid to a halt at
+the water tank.</p>
+
+<p>The huge, palpitating locomotive, its air-pump breathing
+hard, like a hound after a hard chase, halted but a few
+yards from Nevada’s open window. Out of the cab was
+thrust the gray head of Jerry Kerrigan. Though a pair of
+motor goggles, worn to protect his keen gray eyes from the
+flying sand, gave his face a grotesque look, it could not
+completely hide the jovial smile the veteran engineer ever
+had for the girl of Silver Thistle. The train stopped but
+long enough to take water. Then the great, black monster,
+trembling with the power of its mighty strength, leaned to
+its load, and moved forward, belching a cloud of smoke
+from its stack.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, say, Neva—” Jerry called back, “I almost forgot:
+The superintendent’s ‘Special’ is just behind us! And, say—his
+girl will be with him! Look for her!”</p>
+
+<p>The train was gone, with a roar, leaving a smell of
+burned oil in its wake.</p>
+
+<p>Singing again, even more joyfully, Nevada stood by the
+window, watching for the “Special.” There came another
+rumbling roar from down the track, followed by
+another musical call of a locomotive’s whistle, and a minute
+later the “Special” had come to a halt at the water tank.
+There were only two cars—a pitiful load it seemed for that
+great, high-wheeled engine. The rear car alone attracted
+the attention of the desert girl. Her eager eyes took in
+every detail, and a happy smile brightened her face when
+she saw the name, painted in gold letters on the side. She
+repeated the name aloud:</p>
+
+<p>“Debue! Debue!”</p>
+
+<p>While she looked, a girl came out on the rear platform,
+to stand for a while inside the brass railing. Behind her
+followed a portly, white-haired man—a man whose features
+and bearing portrayed power and purpose and leadership.
+Nevada’s heart fluttered exultantly, for the girl
+was the one who had smiled down at her through the wide
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>
+window of the coach—and the man who stood near her
+was Superintendent Foster.</p>
+
+<p>To Nevada’s ear came the joyful exclamation of the
+girl: “Oh, how lovely they are! I must have some of
+them. Please, father, can’t I have just a minute to pick
+some of them?”</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned her big, appealing eyes to her father,
+and the superintendent with a smile, nodded his assent.
+“Go ahead, my dear! But be careful—and stay only a
+minute.”</p>
+
+<p>Wondering what it was the girl had admired and wanted,
+Nevada watched while a porter opened the railing gate
+and placed a footstool under the lower step. The girl
+tripped down lightly and ran out across the right-of-way.
+Nevada followed her with keenly interested gaze. When
+the girl uttered another exclamation of delight, Nevada
+knew what it was that had attracted her. She was plucking
+the tall thistles—the long-stemmed, silver-plumed
+thistles that had given the isolated station its name.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_010" style="max-width: 66.875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_010.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p>She was plucking the tall thistles.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Nevada, too, had admired the silver thistles—admired
+them for their hardihood, their happy way of nodding
+their plumed heads in pleasant salutation when nearly all
+other growing things were dried up, blistered and burned
+by the desert heat. She was glad this other girl loved
+them and could see the simple, unadorned beauty they
+possessed. She had a big vase filled with them in her
+room, and another in the cozy living-room of the station-house.
+Had she only known—could she only have
+guessed, she would have gathered an armload of them
+and had them ready when the “Special” arrived. What
+a chance that would have been to get acquainted, to have
+received a word from the girl who had smiled down at
+her!</p>
+
+<p>Just then, she heard a loud, shrieking cry. It came
+with startling suddenness, causing her to lift her head
+quickly and look out of the window. The first cry was
+instantly followed by another, louder than the first. The
+girl in the silver thistles was standing stiffly erect, holding
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span>
+a long, slender hand above her head. From her hand
+dangled a wriggling, twisting thing that fell to the ground
+while the desert girl looked.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a scorpion—a scorpion! She has been stung by
+a scorpion!” Nevada spoke aloud in tones of sympathy
+and alarm. The girl continued to scream while her
+father and the porter hurried from the car.</p>
+
+<p>Nevada whirled swiftly from the window and out of her
+room. She knew that help was needed out there, and
+needed quickly. And she knew what must be done.</p>
+
+<p>“Mother!” she called. “Mother—quick, hot water, ammonia,
+olive oil—the superintendent’s daughter has been
+stung by a scorpion!”</p>
+
+<p>She was out of the house then, and running swiftly as
+a deer down the track.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp-flower" id="i_011" style="max-width: 16.0625em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_011.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_TWO">
+    <i>CHAPTER TWO</i>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class='drop-cap'><span class='allcap'>Before</span> Nevada reached the rear coach of the
+“Special,” the superintendent’s daughter, supported
+by her father, was taken to the car steps. Her wild
+cries had subsided, but she continued to moan with pain.
+She had dropped her load of pink-tinted thistle blossoms.
+Her face was ghastly pale. Her big eyes were filled with
+a strange terror. She wrung her injured hand incessantly,
+now opening, now closing her rapidly stiffening fingers.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor dear! Poor dear!” said her father with affectionate
+sympathy. “Be quiet, Sweetheart—we will help
+you. Quick, Sam, up the step! We must make a fast run
+to Alcazar!”</p>
+
+<p>Alcazar, the next town of any importance or size, where
+medical aid could be had, was one hundred miles away.
+It could not be reached, even by the “Special,” in less
+than one hour and twenty minutes. By that time the
+deadly venom from the scorpion’s sting would have done
+its fatal work.</p>
+
+<p>Nevada Buckley heard the name of the distant town
+spoken and she guessed the intention of the superintendent.
+In his anxiety and alarm he had not observed the
+coming of the desert girl. But now she made her presence
+known, speaking to him quickly. “Please, Mr. Foster,
+bring her to the house. Mother and I know what to
+do. Don’t take her on until she is relieved.”</p>
+
+<p>The superintendent lifted his head in surprise. Anxiety
+was printed on his usually serene countenance. “Are
+you certain?” he said. “It must be cared for at once.
+We can make a fast run to Alcazar—”</p>
+
+<p>“It would take too long,” Nevada cried. “Bring her to
+mother. She is getting things ready now. We know just
+what to do. I was stung by a scorpion in almost the
+same way.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p>
+
+<p>Nevada drew closer and looked unflinchingly into the
+steady gray eyes of the railroad magnate. For a brief
+moment he seemed not only to be gazing at her, but
+sounding the depths of her very soul, measuring her ability,
+her sincerity. It was his way of estimating the worth
+of those whom he trusted. And this was the time when
+his trust meant more than ever.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” he said in tones of finality. “We’ll take
+her to the house! Come, Sam, help me carry her! Easy
+now, easy, that’s the man!” The two lifted the injured
+girl and carried her between them. Nevada ran on ahead.
+Her mother had built a quick fire in the kitchen stove and
+already the kettle was singing. The living-room sofa
+was drawn out to a convenient position. Near it was
+placed a stand with a ready ammonia bottle, olive oil,
+bandages and a sharp-bladed penknife.</p>
+
+<p>“Lay her here,” directed Nevada, when the two men
+entered with their burden, followed by other members
+of the crew, all offering their assistance, all eager to
+help. They waited at the door, their caps in their hands,
+while Nevada, with the deftness and sureness of a trained
+nurse, proceeded to remove the poison and dress the
+wound of the superintendent’s daughter. Their hearts
+went to their throats, brave fellows though they were,
+when the half-unconscious girl screamed with pain. Then
+her head dropped limp on the arm of her father, while
+Nevada worked on with swift-moving fingers.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s out now, the worst of the poison is out!” she spoke
+assuringly, as she poured on the soothing olive oil and
+wrapped the injured finger with a broad bandage. “She
+will soon be all right.”</p>
+
+<p>She brought cold water, the coldest that could be had
+in the station-house, dipped her cool fingers in the basin
+and rubbed them gently over the forehead of the unconscious
+girl. After a time—a very long time it seemed to
+those who anxiously waited—a bit of color came into the
+pale face, and the big, dark eyes opened wide and staring.
+They gazed first into the strong face of the superintendent,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>
+who began at once to talk to his daughter in words of
+happy assurance. Then they looked up into the ruddy face
+of Nevada, looked up, as they had looked through the window
+that day, in mute appeal, with real kindness and genuine
+sympathy. When Nevada smiled, the other girl
+smiled in return.</p>
+
+<p>“Where am I?” asked the wounded girl in wonderment,
+as her gaze shifted from one to another of the group
+around her in the little room lighted by the red glow of
+the sunset. But now dusk was falling and Mrs. Buckley
+placed a lamp on the stand as Mr. Foster answered.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re at Silver Thistle, in a house of friends,” he
+said. “This Little Doctor Lady has removed the scorpion’s
+sting, for which we are thankful.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevada bathed the hand again, and this time the girl on
+the sofa gave her a happy look of recognition. “Oh, I
+know!” she exclaimed, raising her uninjured hand to the
+warm, round cheek so near her. “You are the girl at
+Silver Thistle. I’ve seen you. And I’ve wanted to meet
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>Thrilled by the kindness and sympathy of the girl’s
+words, Nevada lovingly touched her lips to the outstretched
+hand, then took it in her own cool fingers and
+pressed it tenderly. It was the beginning of a real friendship,
+the welding of human hearts, and Superintendent
+Foster, big stern man that he was, looked on with eyes of
+understanding. He tried to speak, but a lump came up in
+his throat and choked him.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the uniformed conductor of the “Special,”
+cap in hand, and carrying a brightly polished lantern,
+came in on tiptoe and touched the superintendent on the
+shoulder. “I beg pardon,” he said in low tones, “I
+merely ask for orders. We’re an hour behind now,
+Number Eighteen is behind us, and Number Eleven is
+waiting at Sand Ridge siding.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re right,” spoke the magnate quickly. During
+the past hour of anxiety and uncertainty he had forgotten
+everything save this one who was dearer to him than all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>
+else in the world—forgotten that he was a railroad man
+with a life of routine keyed to schedules, time tables and
+orders. “We’ve tied up the line, all right,” he added with
+a smile. “The road is probably wondering what’s wrong.
+No doubt they think that the ‘Special’ is lost in the desert.
+We’ll move on, Ralston, in just a few minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, sir,” the train chief responded, as he turned
+and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>A tense silence followed the conductor’s exit, during
+which the superintendent’s gray eyes were held on the upturned
+face of the desert girl. She knew the meaning of
+that look, and her heart sank. It meant the magnate was
+making ready to go.</p>
+
+<p>“My Little Doctor Lady,” he said finally. “I’m in a
+position where I feel I must take orders from you. How
+about it—may we move the patient? May we take her
+on right away?”</p>
+
+<p>Might they take her away—this girl who had come into
+her life, whose kindness, sympathy and friendship promised
+so much? Nevada did not reply at once. She wanted
+the girl to stay. Already the superintendent had tarried
+an hour, a very long time for a railroad chief to tarry at
+a place like Silver Thistle. Nevada wished with all her
+heart that the girl might stay. But she would tell the
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>“She could be moved safely,” she said at length, “for
+the poison is out of her hand, and the inflammation will
+soon leave. You can get a doctor and nurse at Alcazar.
+But if you would trust her with us—for a time—I
+would—”</p>
+
+<p>Nevada hesitated. Though she had summoned all her
+courage to make this heart demand, she found herself
+unable to finish what was on her mind to speak. The
+superintendent’s gray eyes were sounding the depths of
+her being again. It was a big thing to ask of him, a
+bigger thing, no doubt, than was his custom lightly to
+grant. He kept on searching her, even when she ceased
+speaking. And when he turned his gaze away, he let it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>
+shift to Mrs. Buckley, then from one corner to another
+of the little room. He was measuring them, gauging
+them, that he might be sure.</p>
+
+<p>Nevada, watching him, found no offense in his searching
+glances. She was filled with the spirit of the railroad,
+and she knew how much depended upon human faith and
+confidence. She begged only for an opportunity to serve,
+to prove herself a capable, trustworthy friend to this
+daughter of the chief. She looked down into the white
+face again, and was thrilled when the girl said:</p>
+
+<p>“Let me stay, father, just a little while. There’s so
+much sunshine out here in the desert, and this dear girl
+and I will have such a good time—”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, we will indeed!” Nevada brought in exultantly.</p>
+
+<p>A happy smile came again into the face of Mr. Foster.
+“Very well, my dear,” he assented. “I will go on, and
+leave you here.” He turned and said to Mrs. Buckley:
+“I have known your husband for some time, by his record.
+There is not a mark against him. And I feel that
+I know him better since I have witnessed what his
+daughter can do.”</p>
+
+<p>The little woman of the station house blushed proudly.
+He turned again to Nevada. “Little Doctor Lady, I’m going
+to leave my daughter with you for a week. It will
+require just that length of time for me to make the round.
+Remember that for real loved ones, I am alone in the
+world except for her. She is everything to me.”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp91" id="i_017" style="max-width: 72.9375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_017.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p>“I am going to leave my daughter with you for a week.”</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>A tear glittered on his cheek as he stooped and kissed
+his daughter’s white face. “Good-by, Sweetheart,” he
+spoke in affectionate farewell. “Get well. Get all the
+sunshine you can. Be careful, and obey the orders of the
+Little Doctor Lady!”</p>
+
+<p>She clung to him a moment, with her well hand, and
+then let him go. He rose quickly, erect and alert, a railroad
+man again. “Sam,” he spoke to the porter, “bring
+her suit case and luggage bag from the car. She will
+need nothing more!” As he went out of the door he
+called to the conductor, who paced restlessly back and
+forth. “All ready, Ralston,” he said. “Make quick time
+to Sand Ridge!”</p>
+
+<p>Nevada, stooping by the sofa, with the hand of the girl
+pressed in her own, heard the shrill call of the locomotive
+as its five long blasts brought in the rear brakeman. Then
+the bell clanged, and with a mighty roar, as if impatient of
+the delay, the superintendent’s “Special” whirled away
+into the desert night.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_THREE">
+    <i>CHAPTER THREE</i>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class='drop-cap'><span class='allcap'>For</span> a long while Nevada remained by the sofa. Most
+of the time the injured girl lay dozing. As often as
+she opened her eyes she found herself looking into
+Nevada’s radiant face. Then a smile passed between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Trains went by, following each other rapidly, trains
+that had been halted and delayed by the “Special’s” unexpected
+stop at Silver Thistle. At eleven o’clock Nevada’s
+father returned from his run. She heard him roll the
+little speeder into the tool house, and a few minutes later
+came the sound of his thick-soled shoes on the floor. Mrs.
+Buckley met him in the kitchen and in low tones informed
+him of the presence of the superintendent’s daughter in
+the station-house.</p>
+
+<p>Before retiring, Mrs. Buckley and Nevada moved the
+patient to the bed in the latter’s room. Nevada herself,
+took the sofa having moved it near the open door. With
+the lamp turned so low that it filled the little apartment
+with a soft, subdued glow, she prepared to keep watch
+through the night. Twice she dressed the injured finger,
+carefully and tenderly. She was pleased to note that the
+inflammation was much reduced and that the girl slept
+more quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“She will be almost well of the sting tomorrow,” Nevada
+declared happily. “And we will have such a good
+time together.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevada had never known the joy of close fellowship
+with a girl of her own age. All her life she had been
+without a playmate. She had never gone to school, even
+for a day. Her mother had been her teacher and companion,
+and the only home she had ever known was the station-house
+close by the railroad, always in some remote
+place. Her only acquaintances, the big-hearted men of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>
+the train crews who could not play with her, although
+they had ever been her devoted friends, bringing her
+sweets and toys, and waving their bronzed hands in happy
+recognition from the time she could lift her own chubby
+ones in response.</p>
+
+<p>Now that a girl of her own age had come into her
+life, her cup of happiness was so full she could not sleep.
+As often as the patient moved, Nevada rose quickly, eager
+to render any service she could give. Late in the night
+the patient sank into a calm, peaceful slumber. Then it
+was that Nevada turned the lamp lower and went to
+sleep. When she awoke, the bright, dazzling sun of the
+desert was streaming in through the window. She heard
+her mother at work in the kitchen. From the pump-house
+came the irregular “Put-put Put-put!” of the gasoline
+engine as it labored vigorously in its work of refilling the
+deplenished tank. She knew by this that her father was
+up and at work. As a usual thing she was out in the
+tool house with him, or in the kitchen with her mother
+at this time of day. She heard a slight movement from
+the bed, and looking over, saw her patient sitting up.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it a lovely morning!” exclaimed the superintendent’s
+daughter. “And I feel fine. My hand does not
+pain me at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am so glad,” returned Nevada. “I’ll bring you
+fresh water and you can dress at your leisure, that is, if
+you feel like getting up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I want to get up! I’m not an invalid. We
+must fill these days full, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>The young guest thanked her hostess as she brought
+basin and water and then she added, “Just a moment,
+please. Before you go I want to ask your name. I
+haven’t heard it yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s Nevada,” was the answer, the radiant glow of the
+desert in her cheeks and the brightness of the desert stars
+in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Nevada,” the other girl repeated. “Nevada, a lovely
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>
+name, and it fits you,” she said frankly. “And now I’ll
+tell you mine. It is Debue.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that is the name of your father’s car,” said Nevada.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he named it in my honor,” Debue informed her.</p>
+
+<p>“It is certainly a pretty name. And now that we are
+fully acquainted, you’ll call me Nevada, or ‘Neva,’ if you
+like, just as do father and mother and Jerry Kerrigan.”</p>
+
+<p>“That will be lovely,” Debue agreed, as she sprang out
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>
+of bed. “We’re going to have a big time together. And
+you will call me Debue.”</p>
+
+<p>The “big time together” had its beginning soon after
+breakfast. The stipulation of Debue was that it must not
+interfere with the regular work of her hostess, and though
+the injured hand prevented her from giving much assistance,
+she did help Nevada with her household tasks.
+Then they visited the pump-house where the busy gasoline
+engine kept up its noisy chugging. They watched the
+coming and the going of the trains. They received letters,
+messages and bundles from men of the crew. They even
+gathered an armload of the pink-tinted thistle blossoms,
+plucking only those that stood away from rocks and sage
+clumps where the dreaded scorpions might lie in hiding.
+Before noon came they seemed as well acquainted as
+though they had always been together.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp75" id="i_021" style="max-width: 75.4375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_021.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p>They received bundles from men of the crew.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon, when supper was over, the dishes
+cleared away and Bob Buckley had gone out on his regular
+evening trip with the speeder to light the signal
+lamps, the two girls took a short walk into the desert. The
+sun had gone down behind the Funeral Range. The dazzling
+golden light of day was replaced with the subdued
+shades of dusk, shades that changed from crimson to
+lavender, from lavender to purple. The shimmering heat
+waves were driven away by a cooling breeze. The desert,
+with its vast, far-reaching border lines came out in clear
+outline. Distant sand ridges, buttes and ranges that could
+not be seen during the day, were now clearly visible.
+Desert birds, that had been hushed and silent through the
+hours of dazzling heat, now opened their throats and sang.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not know the desert was so beautiful, and yet
+so vast and mysterious,” spoke Debue, as the two, walking
+hand in hand, reached the summit of a sand ridge
+a mile from the station. They had followed a dim trail
+made by Nevada in her regular wanderings. After crossing
+a broad, mesquite-grown mesa, they dropped down
+into a dry, shale-floored coulee, and then climbed the
+ridge beyond. Here they stood looking around them. To
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>
+the utter amazement of the visitor, they had reached, in
+this brief time, a spot that seemed isolation itself. Silver
+Thistle, with its cluster of yellow buildings, the railroad
+with its line of telegraph poles and lifting semaphores,
+all were blotted out. It was as if the whole world were
+a desert, and they its only inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t understand it!” exclaimed Debue in surprise.
+“We have not come far. The station must be right
+over there!” she said, raising her hand and pointing
+across the mesa.</p>
+
+<p>Nevada laughed merrily. “You would miss it a long
+way, if you went in that direction to find it,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I must be lost,” admitted Debue.</p>
+
+<p>“Not exactly that,” Nevada corrected. “You’re confused
+a little in direction, that’s all. I had the same difficulty
+when I first came out here. This old desert is very
+deceiving to the eye, and this particular spot is especially
+so. The station is hidden behind that lifting sand ridge
+over there. When we dropped into the coulee we lost
+sight of it, and we made a turn in climbing up here. I
+call this my lookout, and I often come out here in the
+evening just to catch the spirit of the desert.”</p>
+
+<p>They stood for a time, silently, held speechless by the
+wonder and awe of the vast arid waste around them.
+The world seemed a long way off. Then came a sound,
+a dull, distant rumble that grew louder and louder as the
+moments passed. Not until the musical tritone of a locomotive
+whistle lifted clear and distinct as a bugle call, did
+Debue realize that it was the sound of an approaching
+train.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s Number Sixteen,” said Nevada, and then she added
+in tones of infinite meaning, “Do you know it has been
+almost a whole day since you came?”</p>
+
+<p>“A very happy day it has been for me,” Debue told her.</p>
+
+<p>“The very happiest day in all my life,” the desert girl
+added.</p>
+
+<p>They turned from the ridge, and hand in hand, walked
+slowly through the growing dark toward the station-house.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>
+They were tired, both of them, and they made ready at
+once to retire. Again it was arranged for Debue to occupy
+Nevada’s bed, while the latter prepared to sleep on
+the sofa near the open door. Debue’s hand was dressed
+for the last time, Nevada assuring her the bandage could
+be removed on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes after getting into bed, Debue was soundly
+asleep. Nevada put out the light and soon followed
+her into dreamland. How long she slept she did not
+know. Some time in the night she awoke with a start,
+and found herself sitting up, carried at once from utter
+unconsciousness to complete wakefulness. She looked
+toward the bed. The window curtain had been rolled to
+the top and the window left wide open. A silvery desert
+moonlight poured in. She could see every corner of the
+room, the white sheets of the bed, and the head of the
+sleeping Debue on the pillow. Nevada knew she was
+sleeping, by her long, regular breathing. Absolute stillness
+filled the station-house. In a vague way Nevada
+realized that a train had passed, yet she knew no train
+had awakened her. Something else had disturbed her
+sleep and she looked around with a feeling of alarm.</p>
+
+<p>She got up and tiptoed to the clock in the living-room.
+It was a quarter of one. Her father had been home almost
+two hours, so it could not have been his coming
+that awoke her. Debue had not called or made any unusual
+sound. What was it, then? Some unusual sound
+had awakened her, of this she was certain.</p>
+
+<p>She took a peep into the kitchen, then came back toward
+the sofa. Just as she entered the open door of her room,
+she was startled by a slight sound outside, a sound that
+seemed to come from near the window. She paused,
+peered intently in that direction and heard the sound resolve
+into a low, muffled tread. While she looked, the
+dark form of a man, stooping low, crept away from the
+house and moved slowly toward the railroad.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_FOUR">
+    <i>CHAPTER FOUR</i>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class='drop-cap'><span class='allcap'>Nevada</span> first believed that the man who crept
+away from the station-house, and disappeared in
+the direction of the water tank, was a tramp. She
+knew that a freight train had passed not more than an
+hour before, after making the usual stop for water at
+Silver Thistle. She knew, also, that the train crews,
+out of regard for the people of the isolated station, as
+well as for the unfortunate tramps, allowed the latter
+to continue their journey unmolested. It was not likely
+a tramp would get off a train at a lonely pump-station
+in the middle of the desert.</p>
+
+<p>Then who could this man be? Why was he prowling
+about the station-house at such an hour? These were
+questions for which she could find no reasonable answer.
+She stood a full minute or longer in the middle of the
+little room looking out into the night. The dark, stealthily
+moving form disappeared and no other sounds followed,
+no voices, no footfalls. As far as she knew,
+nothing had been disturbed about the station. Yet she
+believed the man had been in the room, had passed out
+through the open window, and that his going had awakened
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She walked quietly over to the stand near the bed on
+which had been placed the jeweled wrist-watch, the
+gold necklace and the rings of the magnate’s daughter.
+The silvery beams of the moon fell with a reflected
+radiance upon the jewels. All were there, undisturbed,
+just as they had been placed the evening before. If the
+midnight prowler had entered the house, he had not
+come for the purpose of robbery, of this she felt certain.</p>
+
+<p>Determined that the visit should not be repeated, she
+quietly lowered the window, fastened it, and dropped
+the upper sash to admit the cool night air. As she
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>
+looked out again over the desert waste, there came to
+her sensitive ear a distant sound like the long-drawn call
+of a human voice. The call was answered immediately
+from a more distant point; then silence fell over the
+desert. Nevada knew the sound could have been made
+by a pair of coyotes calling to each other from neighboring
+sand ridges, and this thought, followed by a deep-toned
+rumble of an approaching train, drove away her
+fears.</p>
+
+<p>She returned to the sofa and was asleep when the long
+freight train, drawn by its two thirsty moguls, stopped for
+a drink at the water tank. She was happily surprised on
+waking early in the morning, to find Debue already up
+and dressed, and the room filled by the sun with a glory-fire.</p>
+
+<p>“I beat you,” cried Debue, her eyes sparkling, pink
+in her cheeks, and an eagerness and buoyancy in her
+every movement.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m the lazy one this time,” her hostess admitted.
+“But I’ll soon be dressed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to help get breakfast,” Debue declared.
+“I’m well this morning. There’s not a bit of soreness
+in my hand, and I can do work, real, sure-enough work
+now.” Debue spoke as if this would be the finest thing
+in the world. She gave Nevada’s round cheek a friendly
+pat and hurried out. A little later Nevada heard her
+tripping lightly to and fro in the little kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>This day proved a happier one for the two girls than the
+day that preceded it. When the east-bound Limited
+halted for a drink, the gray head of Jerry Kerrigan was
+thrust out of the cab windows. There was a broad
+smile on the old engineer’s face when he tossed down
+the customary bundle and looked into two pairs of
+laughing eyes.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp93" id="i_027" style="max-width: 74.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_027.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p>He tossed down the customary bundle.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>“I’m almost glad it happened!” he said, when Nevada
+told the story of the scorpion’s sting.</p>
+
+<p>“And we are, too!” the pair answered truthfully.</p>
+
+<p>“But I hope it will not happen again,” added the engineer
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>
+with a hearty laugh as he touched his gloved
+hand to the throttle of the huge engine. The long Limited
+moved forward, and as Jerry doffed his cap in farewell
+he called to the girls, “Have a fine time together!”</p>
+
+<p>“We will! We will!” they answered.</p>
+
+<p>The day went rapidly by, and so did other days that
+quickly followed, Nevada did not count them, because
+she wanted that week to last as long as possible. Only
+one thing troubled her and that was the visit of the
+mysterious night prowler. She thought at first she
+should report the matter to her father, but concluded
+it would only cause him unnecessary worry. For the
+same good reason she said nothing about it to Debue.
+When the opportunity allowed, she made an examination
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>
+of the tracks in the sandy yard. It was this investigation
+that brought her the gravest concern. The
+tracks, she discovered, did lead to the window. Moreover,
+there were grains of sand on the sill, and on the
+floor of the room.</p>
+
+<p>In view of this discovery she could form but one
+conclusion. The prowler had entered the house. But
+he had taken nothing. It might have been that her
+waking caused him to make an exit before any stealing
+could be done. He had left Silver Thistle, as he had
+undoubtedly come, on a passing freight train. Having
+reached this final conclusion, Nevada dismissed the incident
+from her mind.</p>
+
+<p>She did not have cause to worry about it again until
+late in the week. As she and Debue were on the “lookout”
+beyond the coulee, watching the changing colors
+paint the desert in a sunset glory, her keen eyes,
+scanning a distant sand ridge, caught for a moment
+an object that appeared above the purple hazed clumps
+of mesquite. She looked at it intently, a full half-minute.
+An object, with the appearance of the head and shoulders
+of a man, stood up plainly, remained quiet while
+she looked, and then dropped down again.</p>
+
+<p>What a lone man could be doing out there in the
+desert, and why he should attempt to hide, were beyond
+her understanding. She was at once reminded of that
+creeping night-prowler and her fears returned. She
+held her gaze so long and intently on the distant ridge
+that Debue became curious.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you see, Neva?” she wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing, at least nothing now,” Nevada answered.
+“I thought I saw something over there on the ridge.
+It has disappeared.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her best efforts to forget the incident,
+Nevada was silent and concerned as they strolled back
+through the twilight.</p>
+
+<p>There was one truth on the minds of both that
+brought a feeling of dismay. This would be their last
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>
+night together! The week had gone by on swift-flying
+wings. And what changes that week had wrought.
+Debue had absorbed the spirit of the desert, the sunshine
+had fairly poured into her, browning her neck
+and arms and bringing a healthy glow to her cheeks.
+So attached had the two become to each other that it
+was with deep regret that they thought of parting.</p>
+
+<p>Neither of them mentioned the parting of the morrow,
+but they were reminded of it the next day. Jerry
+Kerrigan, when the Limited came through, had a letter
+to deliver. “It’s from the chief,” he said, putting it in
+the extended hand of Debue. The kindly face of the
+old engineer wore an expression of soberness. “I
+really hate to give it to you,” he added. “It’s transfer
+orders from the chief.” He smiled then and the
+girls knew what he meant. It was a letter from Superintendent
+Foster, which, when seated on the kitchen step,
+Debue read aloud.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class='no-indent'>My Dear Daughter:</p>
+
+<p>I was glad to get a good report of you today from
+Jerry. Your quick recovery speaks well for the little
+doctor lady’s treatment and the good desert sunshine.
+I shall expect to see a healthy coat of tan——and a
+few freckles wouldn’t matter.</p>
+
+<p>This is to inform you, though, that the “Special”
+will be due at Silver Thistle at nine-forty-five, Thursday
+evening. Be ready to leave at that time. I have
+been lonely without you. Give my sincere regards and
+best wishes to your little comrade, and to her mother
+and father. Good-by, until Thursday evening.</p>
+
+<p class="right pr1">
+  Your devoted Father.
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>There were tears in the eyes of both girls when Debue
+finished reading. Kind as was the message, it brought upon
+them the realization that their time for being together
+could now be counted by hours and minutes. No comments
+were offered, none were needed. But hand in hand,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>
+the activities of the day were resumed with increased
+vivacity.</p>
+
+<p>Sunset came again, and with it the changing colors of
+the painted desert, the cooling breath of night, the full-throated,
+ever-delightful melodies of the nightingale.</p>
+
+<p>The girls had hoped to go together to the “lookout” beyond
+the coulee for this last evening together. But it so
+happened that Nevada had to operate the gasoline engine
+in the pump-house for nearly an hour after her father
+went out on the usual run. To avoid the possibility of
+missing the sunset glories, Debue concluded she would go
+alone, and wait there for Nevada. The two had been over
+the trail so many times of late that neither had any fear
+of losing the way.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll join you in half an hour,” Nevada said, “so go
+ahead, Debue. Just remember to swing round to the
+right after you cross the mesa and drop down into the
+coulee.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll get there all right, even if I am a tenderfoot!”
+Debue said merrily as she struck out into the desert.
+From the pump-house door, Nevada saw the trim figure of
+her friend disappear in the crimson glow.</p>
+
+<p>It proved to be three-quarters of an hour before the
+tank was filled. But with a true railroader’s sense of
+duty, Nevada did not leave until the gage indicated that
+the water level had reached the highest point. Then she
+shut down the engine, closed the door, tossed off the
+grease-stained apron that had protected her dress, washed
+her hands, and hurried out across the desert. The first
+purple shades of dusk were lowering. Night was not
+far off, and fearing that Debue would grow tired of
+waiting, Nevada quickened her steps. Nearly across
+the mesa, her pace slackened. She observed that the
+strong north wind of the day had blown new sand across
+the path, until in places the trail was completely obliterated.
+At the coulee, Nevada halted abruptly, and uttered
+a low cry of alarm. Debue’s tracks had disappeared!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p>
+
+<p>Anxiously watching for footprints Nevada ran on
+until the trail came out plain again. Though she stooped
+and looked searchingly, she could find no fresh tracks
+to indicate that Debue had lately passed. She got to her
+feet, rigid and tense, and lifted a fear-filled face to the
+darkening sky. “Can it be possible,” she asked herself
+with a feeling of terror, “that Debue is lost—lost out
+here on the desert!”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp-quad" id="i_031" style="max-width: 18.9375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_031.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_FIVE">
+    <i>CHAPTER FIVE</i>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class='drop-cap'><span class='allcap'>So</span> intense was Nevada’s fear that Debue was lost,
+that she stood like one paralyzed. A score of terrorizing
+possibilities, connected with the mysterious
+appearance of that midnight prowler and of the man’s
+head that had appeared for a moment above the sand
+ridge came into her mind.</p>
+
+<p>At length she started forward, then dropped again to
+scan the trail closely. It was getting dark now and
+tracks of any sort were hard to see, yet there were no
+new footprints on the sand-blown path. Then she made
+a trumpet of her hands and called and called; then
+listened intently. There was no responding cry. A
+breathless quietude settled over the desert. The nightingales
+were hushed. It was as if all living creatures
+of the vast sand wastes had gone to sleep. “Oh, Debue,
+Debue! Why did I let you go?” she cried aloud, but the
+great void around her brought no echoing cry.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp55" id="i_034" style="max-width: 73.375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_034.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p>She made a trumpet of her hands and called.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>The rumble of a train, far away in the distance, reminded
+her that in a few short hours the superintendent’s
+“Special” would arrive at Silver Thistle. If Debue
+were not there to meet her father—it was too dreadful
+a thing to contemplate. She recalled the last words of
+the chief, spoken to her as he firmly gripped her hand
+and gazed into her face, “I leave her in your care. She
+is everything to me. I am going to trust you!”</p>
+
+<p>To her belonged the true spirit of the railroad, which
+meant that failure of duty, failure to make good on a
+trust imposed, was an unpardonable sin. Tears streamed
+down Nevada’s face as she paced up and down the
+ridge, wrung her hands helplessly and shouted out over
+the desert. It was not that she lacked courage, but the
+thought that Debue was lost because of her own neglect
+all but overwhelmed her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p>
+
+<p>But she realized that she must go out into the desert
+and find her friend, who was possibly wandering in an
+aimless circle not a great distance from the “lookout.”
+She knew from the observations made of the trail in
+daylight, that Debue got off the path before she had
+fully crossed the mesa. The trail made a sweeping
+curve, of which fact Debue had probably never taken
+note. And, Nevada reasoned, when she got off the
+beaten path, she had gone straight ahead. On this supposition,
+she went back halfway across the mesa, then
+turned round and took a direct course from the coulee.
+She reached it fully a half-mile west of the regular
+trail crossing. The opposite slope was rough and broken
+with outcroppings of shale rock that still held the heat
+of the sun absorbed through the blistering day. Beyond
+were ravines, equally rough, but grown with
+straggling clumps of mesquite.</p>
+
+<p>On the summit of the knob, when she had caught her
+breath, she again gave a long, shrill call. In the stillness
+of the desert the pounding of her own heart was
+the loudest thing she heard. Conquering terror, she
+started on again. Debue, she believed, would naturally
+have followed the ridge, but in what direction, was
+a guess. The “lookout” path turned to the left, so to the
+left she went, pausing now and then to shout and listen.</p>
+
+<p>It had become lighter because the stars were brighter.
+But with a feeling of uneasiness, she observed that
+the handle of the Big Dipper was swinging up from
+the ragged hump of the Vermilion Cliffs. This meant
+that time was swiftly passing. Away off in the distance
+sounded the low rumble of a train. In less
+than two hours the superintendent’s “Special” would
+be due at Silver Thistle. The increased rumbling of the
+approaching train brought a new course of reasoning to
+her mind. Debue would undoubtedly hear it, and unless
+she was too badly confused, would take a course calculated
+to lead her toward the railroad. If she had wandered
+along the shale ridge, she would reach the track a mile
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>
+or more west of the station-house. The possibility of
+this gave Nevada renewed hope and courage, and believing
+that she would come upon Debue either on some nearby
+sand-ridge or on the railroad, she started swiftly toward
+the tracks.</p>
+
+<p>But at the farther border of the mesa she halted abruptly.
+The distant edge dropped precipitately, broken by a
+deep coulee. At the edge of this her startled eyes caught
+the twinkle of a light almost directly below her. A momentary
+glimpse proved the light to come from a camp fire
+built of dry mesquite boughs and sagebrush. Its glow revealed
+the rough, unshaven faces of three men squatted in
+grotesque poses close around. They wore the garb, with
+slouched hats and leather chaps, of plainsmen. Behind
+them, dimly outlined, were three horses, saddled and
+bridled as if ready at any moment for instant service.</p>
+
+<p>Nevada, afraid that the men had heard her, dodged behind
+a mesquite clump and lay quietly. Her heart pounded
+like a trip-hammer. Her breathing seemed loud
+enough to betray her. From her position under the bush
+she tried to solve the mystery of the strange trio. Why
+were they there? Why had they made a long ride across
+the desert, miles from the main-traveled roads? Why
+were they hiding, and what were they waiting for? These
+questions repeated themselves over and over in her baffled
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>Though she had no definite reason for thinking so, she
+believed the men were connected in some way with the
+night prowler at the station-house, and the appearance of
+head and shoulders she had seen above the sand ridge
+while she and Debue had stood on the “lookout.” With
+these thoughts came the dreadful fear that it was the
+presence of the magnate’s daughter that had brought them
+there. Almost unbelievable as it was, the possibility that
+Debue might be down there, bound helplessly, ran through
+Nevada’s mind. She had heard of the daughters of rich
+men being carried off and held for ransom. That such
+an evil plot should not be carried out with her friend, she
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>
+resolved she would risk her own life, if necessary.</p>
+
+<p>Discreetly Nevada decided to learn first if Debue were
+really down there, held captive by the trio. Crawling and
+using intervening clumps of mesquite to screen her approach,
+she moved quietly as a cat down the steep slope.
+Within twenty feet of the men a dry twig under her
+snapped with a loud, startling sound.</p>
+
+<p>“What was that?” she heard one of the men exclaim
+in a coarse voice of alarm.</p>
+
+<p>“Sounded like a mesquite a-poppin’,” another replied.</p>
+
+<p>“Then there must be somethin’ comin’ down into the
+draw!” declared the man who had first spoken.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t get excited, Bill,” said the third man, assuringly.
+“You’ll need steady nerves if we put this job
+through.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just the same, it pays to be careful,” the nervous one
+said.</p>
+
+<p>The creak of leather chaps and the jingle of spurs conveyed
+to Nevada the information that the trio had lifted
+themselves from their squatting position.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that those peering eyes were searching the
+surrounding growth, and that the ears of the three were
+listening intently. Her heart almost stopped beating,
+when from a distant ridge a long-drawn, tremulous cry
+came shrill and far-reaching.</p>
+
+<p>“Now you ought to know what got on your nerves,
+Bill,” spoke one of the men with a low chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>“A coyote, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, nothin’ but a coyote!” the other two declared
+positively.</p>
+
+<p>“Them critters have mighty queer voices. Sometimes
+they sound almost human,” one of the three added knowingly.
+“Most of the time, on nights like this, they sound
+howlishly inhuman.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more the girl under the mesquite heard the jingle
+of spurs. She took a long breath of relief, for she knew
+the men were again squatted round the fire. Her ears
+were strained tensely to catch every word spoken.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_SIX">
+    <i>CHAPTER SIX</i>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class='drop-cap'><span class='allcap'>While</span> Nevada listened, she again heard that long-drawn,
+tremulous cry. It seemed nearer this
+time.</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you that doesn’t sound like a coyote to me!”
+persisted the nervous one of the trio squatted round the
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>“Easy, Bill, easy!” one of the other two cautioned.
+“Keep your boots on. You ought to know that with the
+exception of that woman and the two girls over at the
+station-house, there ain’t another human being within
+fifty miles o’ here.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevada took a quick breath. Debue was not held a
+captive, because the men believed that she was at that
+moment in the station-house at Silver Thistle. Her ears
+caught the words that followed.</p>
+
+<p>“The superintendent’s girl is over there all right. I’ve
+seen her off and on for the past week. She and that
+desert girl have been scamperin’ about like a couple of
+young yearlin’s. I had to hang around purdy close in order
+to get the information I wanted. I know for sure that
+the ‘Special’ will come through tonight. And it’ll stop
+at Silver Thistle to git water and pick up the girl of the
+big boss.”</p>
+
+<p>So it was the coming of the “Special” that caused the
+men to be there. But why were they waiting? What
+interest could they have in the private train of the superintendent?</p>
+
+<p>“I was hid behind the pump-house when the Limited
+came through,” the same voice of the trio went on to
+relate. “I saw the engineer hand the girls a letter. It
+was from the big boss. Later on I heard the girls
+talkin’ about it. I know from what they said that the
+‘Special’ is due here at nine-forty-five!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span></p>
+
+<p>Nevada now understood why that midnight prowler had
+been sneaking about the station-house, and why he had
+been spying upon them during the days that followed.
+The mystery was further explained by words that floated
+up to her from around the camp fire.</p>
+
+<p>“I know positively that the paymaster’s car will be
+hitched on to the ‘Special,’” said another one of the
+trio. “I learned this by hangin’ around the telegraph
+office down at Sand Ridge siding last night. The division
+crews want real money for their pay, and there’ll
+sure be a big pile of cash in the safe. The job ought
+to be easy, once we get on the train. None of ’em
+will be lookin’ for trouble at Silver Thistle.”</p>
+
+<p>Crouched under the mesquite, Nevada became tense
+as she learned why the men were there. They were
+highwaymen, lying in wait to rob the paymaster’s car.
+Theirs was a daring plot, artfully planned. She could
+see that all three of them wore leather belts, heavy
+with cartridges; all carried revolvers, and against a
+mesquite bush near the fire, leaned three rifles, their
+polished barrels glistening in the light.</p>
+
+<p>Action, instant action, she knew would be necessary if
+the plot were to be frustrated. She guessed it was eight
+o’clock. In a little more than an hour the “Special”
+would arrive. The dreadful possibility that it would be
+met by a band of desperadoes, while the daughter of
+the magnate wandered, lost on the desert, drove the girl
+into a frenzy. With lightning speed she reviewed the
+various possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>Could she, alone and unaided, within three-quarters of
+an hour, find Debue, and warn the approaching “Special”
+of its danger? It seemed utterly impossible, a task too
+great for one like her to accomplish in so short a time,
+but in her ears echoed the words of the superintendent,
+“I’m going to trust you!”</p>
+
+<p>Her courage rose quickly. She would not fail in the
+trust that had been placed in her. Quietly, but swiftly,
+she crept away from the bush and up the slope to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>
+mesa. Beyond the hearing of the men in the ravine, she
+got to her feet and started forward. But a little distance
+from the coulee she heard, for the third time, the long-drawn,
+tremulous cry. She knew now it was not the wail
+of a coyote. It was the cry of a human being in distress.
+It must be—yes, it must be the voice of Debue!</p>
+
+<p>Nevada was driven frantic with the truth that it would
+be unsafe for her to answer the cry, and thus alarm the
+men in the coulee. All she could do was to rush onward
+in the direction of the sound. Several times she
+fell headlong. Her dress was torn by the thorny brush of
+the chaparral that grew along the rocks. Her arms,
+hands and face were scratched by thistles and pointed
+shale, but to these Nevada paid no heed. Her only
+thought was that ahead of her, in the darkness, wandered
+her friend, and she had to find her.</p>
+
+<p>Finally she heard just ahead of her that long-drawn
+call, and standing on the crest of the ridge, a slender
+figure was plainly outlined in the starlight.</p>
+
+<p>Joyfully she called as loudly as she could, “Oh, Debue!
+Debue!”</p>
+
+<p>Down the ridge rushed the girl. For a time the reunited
+pair, laughing and crying, and speaking wild, incoherent
+things, remained locked in a fond embrace.
+Weak and exhausted they settled upon the sand still
+clinging to each other.</p>
+
+<p>“What a silly girl I’ve been!” Debue said finally.</p>
+
+<p>“It was all my fault. I should not have let you go out
+alone,” Nevada protested.</p>
+
+<p>“But I should not be such a helpless creature,” Debue
+returned. “I kept wandering around,” she continued.
+“Finally I heard a train. Listen! I hear another one,
+away off yonder!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the ‘Special’!” cried Nevada, leaping up. Instantly
+a course of action took form in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s bringing father!” Debue said excitedly. “I had
+almost forgotten. What will he think if I’m not there
+to meet him?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p>
+
+<p>“We are going to meet him, Debue!” Nevada said.
+“We must meet the ‘Special’ before it reaches Silver
+Thistle—”</p>
+
+<p>“Before it reaches Silver Thistle?” interrupted Debue
+in a tone of amazement. “I do not understand: What
+do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean just this,” Nevada answered, dropping her
+voice and looking around cautiously as if afraid of being
+heard. “In my search for you, I accidentally ran across
+some men who were in hiding down in a deep coulee.
+They have saddle horses and are heavily armed. They
+have planned to hold up the ‘Special’ when it stops at
+Silver Thistle. The paymaster’s car is attached to the
+train, and it is the money in that car they intend to get!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” cried Debue.</p>
+
+<p>“But it must not happen!” Nevada added intensely.</p>
+
+<p>“How can we prevent it, just two against a band of
+armed men?” Debue asked in tones of incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>“We can do it and we must!” Nevada cried. “It is
+only a quarter of a mile to the railroad! We must run
+over there quickly—and warn the ‘Special’! Will you
+come with me?” Nevada put her face close to her friend’s.
+And Debue could feel the tenseness of her gaze—feel
+the warmth of glowing cheeks close to her own. The
+purpose and determination of Nevada renewed her courage.
+She felt at once more strong, more capable. A week
+before, she would have shrunk from the mere thought of
+such a thing. But a week on the desert, in the company
+of this courageous, red-blooded girl, had taught her many
+things. She lifted herself erect, filled with a new purpose.
+“If you go, I go!” she cried tensely.</p>
+
+<p>“We must hurry! We haven’t a second to spare!”
+said Nevada starting down into the shale-strewn coulee,
+up onto the mesa, and across the sand, as fast as her
+feet could take her. Debue was but a few steps behind.</p>
+
+<p>A mile west of the station-house a semaphore stood like
+a gaunt sentinel close by the track. At the end of its
+long drooping arm, as if grasped in a closed hand, reposed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>
+a muffled red light, which blinked its danger sign
+only at such times as the arm was raised. Nevada knew
+that that arm would not lift unless another train stood
+in the way. The thing she wanted was that red light.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the track, the girls were gasping as if
+their last breath were spent. Up the track a bright eye
+gleamed, and the growing thunder of the revolving
+wheels told that the “Special” was speeding across
+the desert.</p>
+
+<p>“Quick, Debue, quick,” cried Nevada, as they halted
+at the semaphore. “Be ready to take the light when
+I hand it down!”</p>
+
+<p>Nimbly, swiftly, Nevada climbed the rounds of the iron
+ladder, and then swinging out, reached and took the red
+lamp from its place in the lowered arm. The whistle of
+the “Special’s” engine sent a long call echoing across the
+desert. It was but a short mile away and coming on with
+a roar.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="i_044" style="max-width: 75.4375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_044.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p>Nevada took the red lamp from its place in the lowered arm.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>“Here, Debue. Reach up. Take it!” said Nevada as
+she reached down and dropped the lamp into Debue’s
+upraised hand. Then she let go and fell in a heap at the
+foot of the semaphore, but was on her feet again in an
+instant, took the light from Debue, and swung it back
+and forth in regular movements across the track. The
+headlight of the swift-approaching train was blinding to
+the eyes of the pair that stood directly in the middle of
+the track. The “Special” charged toward them, its speed
+undiminished, until it seemed as if it would rush on, unheeding.
+But the girls held their place, and swung the
+red light—swung it, until the two sharp toots of the
+whistle told them their signal had been recognized.</p>
+
+<p>“Jump, Debue! Get out of the way!” Nevada cried
+as she took her friend by the hand and leaped into the
+ditch.</p>
+
+<p>They fell headlong. The red lamp was hurled forward,
+while the great locomotive, hissing like some monster of
+the night, roared close over them. In its wake, followed
+the long cars with sparks flying from the tracks as the
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span>
+steel brakes bit the wheels. The “Special” slipped to
+a halt with the railed platform of the superintendent’s car
+directly over the exhausted pair. In half a minute, Superintendent
+Foster, anxious and wondering, followed the
+conductor down the steps.</p>
+
+<p>“Something is wrong!” said the conductor in a tone
+of alarm. “We’re a mile from Silver Thistle. The engineer
+must have been signaled, but there’s no train
+near us—”</p>
+
+<p>“We signaled you!” cried Nevada as she scrambled to
+her feet. One more step and the conductor would have
+stumbled upon them, but turning the lantern he saw the
+two disheveled, exhausted girls. Fast in his wake came
+Mr. Foster.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, it’s Debue! And the Little Doctor Lady!”
+cried the chief as he sprang forward and took his daughter
+in his arms. “Bless me—what has happened?” he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Some men—are at Silver Thistle—to hold up the
+train!” gasped Nevada between breaths.</p>
+
+<p>“Well! Well—if you are not a plucky pair!” exclaimed
+the superintendent. “Help me—let’s get them
+into the car. Warn McKenzie. We must run past the
+station and come back later. The fellows will know then
+that we suspect them!” he ordered.</p>
+
+<p>The two exhausted girls were helped to a big leather
+couch inside the car, the “Special” moved on, and
+passed Silver Thistle with a roar. The three men in
+hiding, outwitted and alarmed, fled into the night. When
+the “Special” backed into Silver Thistle half an hour
+later, an anxious woman stood on the platform, near the
+station-house, wondering why the two girls had not returned—wondering,
+too, why the “Special” had rushed
+by. But the arms of Nevada were soon clasped around
+her neck, and the season of anxiety came to a happy
+termination.</p>
+
+<p>Again the superintendent’s “Special” tarried at Silver
+Thistle for a whole hour, while impatient trains were
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>
+held at stations along the line. Inside the little station-house
+quick consultations and portentous decisions were
+made. Mr. Foster spoke warmly to the father and
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>“Your daughter is just the medicine my daughter
+needs,” he declared. “I never saw her look so well or
+so happy. You let us take Nevada east with us, and for
+her companionship she shall study at the Highland
+Academy with Debue.”</p>
+
+<p>The girls look at each other, too happy to speak. Glad,
+half-wistful glances passed between Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.
+“It is what we have always wanted to do for Nevada,”
+smilingly spoke the little woman. “We shall
+miss her, but of course she may go!”</p>
+
+<p>The two girls, forgetting their recent exhaustion,
+jumped to their feet and dancing and whirling around
+the room they joyfully cried, “It’s too good to be true!”</p>
+
+
+<p class='center mt1'><span class="smcap">The End.</span></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp-flower" id="i_046" style="max-width: 11.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_046.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<div class='transnote'>
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">
+    Transcriber’s Notes
+  </h2>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Illustrations relocated close to relevant content.</li>
+
+<li>Obvious typographic errors silently corrected.</li>
+
+<li>Table of Contents added by the transcriber for reader convenience.</li>
+</ul>
+</div></div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77180 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77180
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77180)