The four young folk from the East remained upon the observation platform most of the time. Even after supper the girls went back there to view the prairies in the gloaming.
There was a distant light here and there, like a low-hung star; but there were few towns, or even settlements. Suddenly the train slowed down and they saw several switch-targets. Then they passed the ghostly fence of a large corral, and they ran by a barn-like, darkened station and freight sheds.
The train stopped altogether. The girls saw the flagman seize his lantern and run back to set his signal. “Come on!” exclaimed Tavia. “He’s left the gate open.”
She gave Dorothy no time to decide, but ran lightly down the steps herself and sprang onto the cinder path. Dorothy followed.
“Listen!” whispered Tavia, seizing her chum’s hand, tightly. “Hear the night breathe.”
There did seem to be a vast, curious sound to the inhalation of breath.
Dorothy listened to the sound with a wonder that grew. It was not the engine exhaust. It was a sound like nothing she had ever heard before.
“See! there’s another big corral beyond the station,” Tavia said. “Come on!”
She led Dorothy down the platform, and out upon the softly giving earth.
The headstrong Tavia went directly toward the high fence. The regular, rhythmic breathing seemed to surround them.