adventure. It would harden him to risks and dangers to come. He made
up his mind, also, to say nothing about it. He could send a warning
back from Winton, but the men in Pendleton knew how to protect
themselves, and the message might fall into wrong hands.

His journey continued in such peace that it was hard to believe men had
fired upon him, and in the middle of the afternoon he reached Winton.
He left his horse, saddle and bridle at a livery stable, stating that
they would be called for by Colonel Kenton, who was known throughout the
region, and sought food at the crude little wooden hotel. He was glad
that he saw no one whom he knew, because, after the fashion of the
country, they would ask him many questions, and he felt relief, too,
when the train arrived.

Dark had already come when Harry entered the car. There were no coaches
for sleepers, and he must make himself comfortable as best he could on
the red plush seat, sprinkled thickly with ashes and cinders from the
engine. Fortunately, he had the seat alone, although there were many
people in the car.

The train, pouring out a huge volume of black smoke, pulled out of the
station with a great clatter that never ceased. Now Harry felt an ebb
of the spirits and melancholy. He was leaving behind Pendleton and all
that he had known. In the day the excitement, the cold air, and the
free world about him had kept him up. Now the swaying and jarring
of the train, crude like most others in that early time of railways,
gave him a sense of illness. The window at his elbow rattled
incessantly, and the ashes and cinders sifted in, blackening his face
and hands. Three or four smoking lamps, hung from the ceiling, lighted
the car dimly, and disclosed but partly the faces of the people around