of the whistle, and a deafening clang of the bell! Some one at the
throttle of the engine had an inspiration and sent the crazy thing
shooting ahead.

Then it was past, and upon the tracks over which the car had but just
gone lay Priscilla Glenn quite unconscious!

Travers came to himself at once, and took her head on his knee where but
a short time ago it had lain so happily.

"You, Priscilla!" It was Margaret Moffatt who spoke. The train had
stopped; the few passengers had come back to see what had happened.

"Yes; my God! Yes! Miss Moffatt, will you see if she is dead? I dare not
trust--myself."

* * * * *

It was late that night, in Priscilla's room at the inn, that she and
Margaret had their talk.

Priscilla lay upon her bed weak and bruised, but otherwise safe. Margaret
sat beside her, her hand in Priscilla's.

"Doctor Travers has pulled himself together at last," she said. "I never
saw a strong man so shattered. And you, dear, you are sure you have told
me the truth--you are not suffering?"

"No, only a little dazed. That's natural after looking death in the face
for hours and hours while everything slipped away from you--things you