As the train roared through the cut, the last view of her loved valley flashed before her eyes. Her face strangely white, she clung to the brass rail and gazed with tearful eyes at the only home she had ever known.
As they passed the trapper’s cabin, the noise of the rushing train sent Pegasus galloping madly about the pasture. With flying hoofs that tore up the sod he circled around the field, then came to the fence and with his beautiful head held high on the arched neck he looked with startled eyes at the speeding train.
With a gesture intensely eloquent, Connie flung out her arms. “Good-bye, Peggy! Good-bye!” She found her way to a seat and covered her face with her hands.
Donald flung himself from the gas-car before it had ceased moving. “Train gone, Andy?” he shouted.
Andy stood with arms folded. “Gone?” he yelled, “of course it’s gone. Why in ’ell wasn’t you ’ere?”
“I had to go up the line to look over some logs, and the car broke down,” replied Donald bitterly.
“Of course,” said Andy with withering sarcasm, “the timber couldn’t ’ave waited another day.”
“Andy,” asked Donald excitedly, ignoring the remark, “did Connie leave you her address?”
“Why the ’ell should she give me ’er address? ’Aven’t you ’er address?” was Andy’s unaccommodating reply.