self surrendering to an impulse of
politeness toward this very young old lady. He conquered it
immediately, however, and cleared his throat raspingly.

"I couldn't swim exactly," he retorted as he surveyed the miry trail
indicated by Miss Duckman, "so I guess I'll walk along the railroad."

"You could do that, too," Miss Duckman said, "_aber_ I ain't allowed
to, on account the rules of the Home says we shouldn't walk along the
tracks."

Harris raised his eyebrows.

"You don't mean to told me you are one of them indignant females?" he
exclaimed.

"I belong in the Home," Miss Duckman replied, colouring slightly, and
Rudnik felt himself being overcome by a wave of remorse for his
bluntness. He therefore searched his mind for a sufficiently gruff
rejoinder, and finding none he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well," he said at last, "there's worser places, lady."

Miss Duckman nodded.

"Maybe," she murmured; "and anyhow I ain't so bad off as some of them
other ladies up there which they used to got husbands and homes of
their own."

"Ain't you a widder, too?" Rudnik asked, his curiosity again getting
the upper hand.

"I ain't never been married," Miss Duckman answered as she drew her
shawl primly about her.

"Well, you ain't missed much," Rudnik declared, "so far as I could
see."

"Why," Miss Duckman exclaimed, "ain't you never been married, neither?"

Rudnik blinked solemnly before replying.

"You're just like a whole lot of ladies," he said; "you must got to
find out everything." He turned away and stepped briskly on to the
railroad track.

"But ain't you married?" Miss Duckman insisted.

"No," he growled as he started off. "_Gott sei dank._"

For a brief interval Miss Duckman stood and watched his progress along
the ties, and then she gathered her parcels more firmly in her arms and
began to negotiate the quagmire that led to the Home. She had not
proceeded more than a hundred feet, however, when a locomotive whistle
sounded in the distance.

"Hey, mister!" she shouted; but even if Rudnik heard the warning it
served only to hasten his footsteps. Consequently the train was almost
upon him before he became aware of it, and even as he leaped wildly to
one side the edge of the cowcatcher struck him a glancing blow. Miss
Duckman dropped her bundles and plunged through the mud to where Rudnik
lay, while the train, which was composed of empty freight cars, slid to
a grinding stop a short distance up the track.