diff options
Diffstat (limited to '77180-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 77180-0.txt | 1245 |
1 files changed, 1245 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/77180-0.txt b/77180-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e776159 --- /dev/null +++ b/77180-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1245 @@ +*** 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 *** |