"

The rain having drizzled for hours, condensed suddenly in a downpour.
When the train moved on, the men found themselves in a small and stuffy
waiting-room. Around the station platform was a sea of red mud. Misty
hills shot up in a circle to the horizon. There was not a house in
sight. There was not a soul in sight except the agent who knew young
Paine. No one having come to meet them, he suggested the use of the
telephone.

In the meantime Kemp was having a hard time of it. "Why in the name of
Heaven didn't we get off at Charlottesville," his master was demanding.

"The conductor said this was nearer, sir," Kemp repeated. His response
had the bounding quality of a rubber ball. "If you'll sit here and
make yourself comfortable, Mr. Dalton, I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, it's a beastly hole, Kemp. How can I be comfortable?"

Randy, who had come back from the telephone with a look on his face
which clutched at Major Prime's throat, caught Dalton's complaint.

"It isn't a beastly hole," he said in a ringing voice, "it's God's
country---- I got my mother on the 'phone, Major. She has sent for us
and the horses are on the way."

Dalton looked him over. What a lank and shabby youth he was to carry
in his voice that ring of authority. "What's the answer to our getting
off here?" he asked.

"Depends upon where you are going."

"To Oscar Waterman's----"

"Never heard of him."

"Hamilton Hill," said the station agent.

Randy's neck stiffened. "Then the Hamiltons have sold it?"

"Yes. A Mr. Waterman of New York bought it."

Kemp had come back. "Mr. Waterman says he'll send the car at once. He
is delighted to know that you have come, sir."

"How long must I wait?"

"Not more than ten minutes, he said, sir," Kemp's optimism seemed to
ricochet against his master's hardness and come back unhurt. "He will
send a closed car and will have your rooms ready for you."

"Serves me right for not wiring," said Dalton, "but who would believe
there is a place in the world where a man can't get a taxi?"

Young Paine was at the door, listening for the sound of hoofs, watching
with impatience. Suddenly he gave a shout, and the others looked to
see a small object which came whirling like a bomb through the mist.

"Nellie, little old lady, little old lady," the boy was on his knees,
the dog in his arms--an ecstatic, panting creature, the first to
welcome her master home!

Before he let her go, the little