elf in college as a
runner, and instinctively he dashed up the street, reaching the tracks
just in time to catch the railing of the last coach. But there he
stopped and stood with thumping heart while the coaches slid smoothly
up the track, leaving him behind. He remembered he was not the only
one left, and he panted and smiled. It occurred to him--when it was too
late--that he might have got on the train and pulled the rope or called
the conductor, but that was out of the question now. After all, it might
not be such a merry game to stay in that filthy little town; it did not
follow that she would prove friendly.

A few moments later she appeared--wholly unconscious of what had
happened. A glance down the track and her face was the picture of
despair.

Then she saw him coming toward her with long strides, flushed and
excited. Regardless of appearances, conditions or consequences, she
hurried to meet him.

"Where is the train?" she gasped, as the distance between them grew
short, her blue eyes seeking his beseechingly, her hands clasped.

"It has gone."

"Gone? And we--we are left?"

He nodded, delighted by the word "we."

"The conductor said thirty minutes; it has been but twenty," she cried,
half tearfully, half angrily, looking at her watch. "Oh, what shall I
do?" she went on, distractedly. He had enjoyed the sweet, despairing
tones, but this last wail called for manly and instant action.

"Can we catch the train? We must! I will give one thousand dollars. I
must catch it." She had placed her gloved hand against a telegraph
pole to steady her trembling, but her face was resolute, imperious,
commanding.

She was ordering him to obey as she would have commanded a slave. In her
voice there was authority, in her eye there was fear. She could control
the one but not the other.

"We cannot catch the flyer. I want to catch it as much as you and"--here
he straightened himself--"I would add a thousand to yours." He hesitated
a moment-thinking. "There is but one way, and no time to lose."

With this he turned and ran rapidly toward the little depot and
telegraph office.

II. TWO STRANGERS IN A COACH

Lorry wasted very little time. He dashed into the depot and up to the
operator's window.

"What's the nearest station east of here?"

"P----," leisurely answered the agent, in some surprise.

"How far is it?"

"Four miles."

"Telegraph ahead and hold the train that just left here."

"The train do