s is my witness that I meant to be."

The car rolled on at a more measured speed, and the Major consoled
himself with the thought that no accident had ever yet happened on this
road. But no, he went on thinking, perhaps one would be safer on a road
where some accident has already happened; the people here are too
careless, and thou must be the first victim. Which would Fraeulein Milch
consider the more dangerous, a road which had already experienced
mishaps, or one like this, that has now to meet with them for the first
time? I must take care to put the question to her. Don't forget it,
Laadi, we must ask her. He had now overcome all fear, and he became so
free and cheerful that he ridiculed his own apprehensions, thinking
that the millionaire on the locomotive had a much greater stake
involved, putting his life in peril, and that he would not do it if
there were any real danger.

The dog must have scented out the peril of the rapid journey, for she
was in a continual tremble, and looked up appealingly to her master.

"Thou art a lady, and thou art afraid," said the Major, addressing her.
"Take courage! Thou art not so faint-hearted. Come! so--so--get up into
my lap. Clean enough, clean enough," he said, smilingly, as the dog
licked his hand.

And from the midst of his anguish, the Major was already pleasing
himself with the thought, how, in a few days, in the quiet arbor in his
garden, he will tell Fraeulein Milch of the imminent peril. He caressed
Laadi, and rehearsed to himself the whole story of the impending
danger.

They arrived at the station where the road branches off to the
university-town. Here they are told that no extra train could be
furnished, as there was only one track. They must wait an hour for the
next regular train.

Sonnenkamp stormed and scolded over these dawdling Europeans, who did
not know how to put a railroad to its proper use; he had arranged,
indeed, by telegram for a clear track. But it was of no use. The Major
stood at the station, and thanked the Builder of all the worlds that
all was so unalterably fixed. He went away from the river, and saluted
the cornfields, where the standing corn, in its silent growth, allowed
itself to be in no way disturbed out of its orderly repose; he rejoiced
to hear, for the first time this season, the whistling of the quail,
who has no home in the vineyard region; and he gazed at the larks
singing as they flew up to heaven.

A train had come into th