e platform. It was
neck-and-neck, and nothing to choose; but he was making it easily, when
he collided squarely in mid career with the tall figure of the
President. For a single passionate instant Mr. Francis Vennor forgot his
traditions, and struck out savagely at the passenger agent. The blow
caught Brockway full in the chest and made him gasp and stagger; but he
gathered himself quickly, swerved aside, and ran on, catching the rear
hand-rail of the last car as the train swept out of the station.

XVII

ON THE NARROW-GAUGE

For a certain breath-cutting minute after he had made good his grasp on
the hand-rails of the rear car, Brockway was too angry to congratulate
himself. A blow, even though it be given by a senior, and that senior
the father of the young woman with whom one chances to be in love, is
not to be borne patiently save by a philosopher or a craven, and
Brockway was far enough from being either the one or the other.

But, fortunately for his own peace of mind, the young man reckoned a
quick temper among his compensations. By the time he had recovered his
breath, some subtle essence of the clean, crisp morning air had gotten
into his veins, and the insult dwindled in the perspective until it
became less incendiary. Nay, more; before the engineer whistled for
Argo, Brockway was beginning to find excuses for the exasperated father.
He assumed that Gertrude was on the train with the Burtons--Mrs.
Burton's message could mean no less--and Mr. Francis Vennor had
doubtless been at some pains to arrange the little plan of separation.
And to find it falling to pieces at the last moment was certainly very
exasperating. Brockway admitted it cheerfully, and when he had laughed
aloud at the President's discomfiture until the sore spot under his
right collar-bone ached again, he thought he was fit to venture among
the Tadmorians. Accordingly, he made his way forward through the two
observation-cars to the coach set apart for the thirty-odd.

His appearance was the signal for a salvo of exclamatory inquiry from
the members of the party, but Brockway had his eyes on the occupants of
a double seat in the middle of the coach, and he assured himself that
explanations to the thirty-odd might well wait. A moment later he was
shaking hands with Mrs. Burton and Miss Vennor.

"Dear me!" said the proxy chaperon, with shameless disingenuousness; "I
was really beginning to be afraid you were left. Where have you been al