railroad, with its monstrous engines puffing smoke and fire would have
been terrifying had there not been, ever at her side as dreams revealed
them, a stalwart youth in corduroys to bear her from their path through
rings of burning thickets.

Again she trembled in imagination at the thought of meeting the fine
ladies who would be dressed with such elaboration and impressive
elegance; but each time, when her dream seemed actually to lead her to
them, there he was to help her through the great ordeal with heartening
smiles and comforting suggestions.

Her sleep was restless, but delightful. Once she woke and left her bed
to peer out of the window, wondering if, by chance, she might not
glimpse a light in Layson's camp far down the mountain-side. She was
disappointed when she found she could not, but went back to bed to find
there further compensating dreams.

There might have been still greater compensation for her had she known
that at the very moment when she peered out through the darkness,
looking for some vagrant glimmer of a light from Layson's camp, he had,
himself, just gone back to his cabin after having stood a long time
staring through the darkness toward her own small cabin in its fastness.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking. The little mountain maid had
strangely fascinated the highly cultivated youth from the far bluegrass.
He did not know quite what to make of the queer way in which her fresh
and lovely, girlish face, obtruded itself constantly into his thoughts.
And as for the haughty bluegrass belle whom poor Madge dreaded so--he
did not think of her, at all, save, possibly, with half acknowledged
annoyance at the fact that she was coming to spy out his wilderness and