After supper she returned to her post, and, as she could not now see the glorious sky and the snowy fields, she let her attention fall upon the trains below that had begun to have a strange fascination for her. She had lost all fear of them by this time, and had even begun to notice that there were differences in them just as there were differences in people. Some were big and bulky, others were quick and dashing. Some had hoarse voices, some clear ones. The Canadian engines coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones, passing them from the other direction, replied in another.
Hour after hour went by, and with the time her sense of dreamy contentment faded away. It gave her but little dismay to look out into the starlit night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes, but it gave her considerable dismay to look down below, and find that the hotel was neither getting dark nor perfectly quiet, as she fancied all well-regulated houses did at night. She had forgotten that they could not sleep here, at least everybody could not. Trains were coming and going all the time, and with this constant supervision below, how could she evade detection?
"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting later every minute," she heard some one call after a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."
"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice responded, "there'll be nothing but freights for a spell," and then followed comparative silence.
Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer lights flashed in the distance, and it was only at much longer intervals that passing trains shook the house. There was a lull in the constant noises, and now was the time for action. She rose stealthily, and took her dog in her arms—a pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy little elf endeavouring to escape from danger threatened by these larger and more powerful human beings.
Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening out of one occupied by two of the dining-room girls. She was not afraid of their waking. She had heard them say as they undressed that they had to get up at half-past four to iron table-cloths and napkins, and there was not an instant's interruption of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she stole noiselessly by them.
Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at the top, and looked down. There was no one in sight, and holding her breath, and tiptoeing cautiously, she stole down step by step.
At last she was at the bottom of both flights of stairs. So far so good, and she laid her hand on the knob of the front door that was never locked. But stop, let her pause—there were sounds outside.
Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked to some other person behind, "Will you come in and have a bite of something to eat?"