e's seen me on the road, an' they'll all be after me, but they'll never
think of the old cow-trail; one of the hands showed it to me an' told me
it led clear to Hudsondale, an' came out by the freight-yards."

For a moment she paused with a little catch in her breath. "Think you
kin make it, Mr. Botts?"

"Sure!" He smiled and held out his hand. "We're partners now, and I'm
'Jim' to my friends, Lou."

"All right, Jim," she responded indifferently, but she laid her little
work-worn hand in his for a brief minute. "Come on."

With the bundle under her arm once more she led the way, and her partner
followed her to where the brook dwindled and the thicket gave place to a
stretch of woodland, between the trees of which a faint, narrow trail
could be discerned.

"We're all right now if we kin keep on goin'," announced Lou. "Nobody
comes this way any more, an' the feller said that the tracks runs
through the woods clear to the Hunkie settlement by the yards. Feelin'
all right, Jim?"

"I guess so." Jim put his hand to his side, where each breath brought a
stab of pain, but brought it down again quickly lest her swift glance
catch the motion. "It's pretty in here, isn't it?"

"It's longer," replied Lou practically. "An' the sun's gittin' low.
Let's hurry."

There was little further talk between them, for Jim had already
discovered that his companion was not one to speak unless she had
something to say, and he was breathing in short snatches to stifle the
pain. The track wound endlessly in and out among the trees, and in the
dim light he would have lost it altogether more than once had it not
been for her light touch upon his arm.

At length the track turned abruptly through the thinning trees and led
down to a rough sort of road, on either side of which ramshackle wooden
tenements leaned crazily against each other, with dingy rags hanging
from lines on the crooked porches. Slatternly, dark-skinned women gazed
curiously at them as they passed.

From somewhere came the squalling of a hurt child and a man's oath
roughly silencing it, while through and above all other sounds came the
bleating of a harmonica ceaseless reiterating a monotonous, foreign air.

The sun had set, and from just beyond the squalid settlement came the
crash and clang of freight-cars being shunted together. In spite of his
pain, Jim realized that nowhere in this vicinity could his
self-constituted companion rest for the night; open fields or dense