ties of observation, it was impossible to be quite certain
how many wires there were.

He was nearly alone in the car, and would probably continue to be for an
hour or so at least. He reversed the seat in front of him, and put up
his feet, leaving the telegraph-wires to scud and dodge unnoticed. He
fixed his eyes upon the sweltering stove in the farther corner of the
car. There was a roaring fire within, as he could tell by the vivid red
that glowed through the draught-holes beneath the door, and showed here
and there along the cracks. The sides of the car against which the stove
stood was protected with zinc; a number of short sticks of wood were
piled beside it, ready to replenish the fire, and some of them were
already smoking a little, as if in anticipation. Presently the brakeman
came in, with a flurry of cold air, his neck and head rolled up in a
dirty-brown knit woolen tippet, and clumsy gloves on his hands. He took
the poker, and opened the stove-door with it, peeped into the red-hot
interior a moment, grasped a solid chunk of wood from the pile, and
popped it in cleverly; then he stood for a moment, patting the stove
with his gloved hands, to warm them, till, in response to the whistle,
he dashed out, slamming the doors as only car-doors can be made to slam,
and Bressant could dimly distinguish him, through the frosted window,
working away at the brake.

They drew up, with much squeaking and grating, at a small,
snuff-colored, clap-boarded depot, where a boy, about sixteen, with a
big green carpet-bag, kissed an elderly lady in a black hood, who was
evidently his mother, and jumped aboard with his bag, in a great hurry,
lest she should behold the tears in his eyes. He entered the car in
which Bressant sat, and established himself and his bag on the seat
immediately in front of that upon which the former's feet were resting.

The snuff-colored station and the woman in the black hood slipped away,
and were seen no more. The boy, after scratching a peep-hole through the
frost-work on his window, and taking a last survey through it of the
snow-covered fields he was leaving, produced a large blue-spotted
handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers, and retired with it into
the privacy of his own feelings.

He was a rather delicate-looking boy, with large gray eyes and soft
brown hair, and was evidently not much in the habit of traveling.
Perhaps this was the first time he had ever left home, thought Bressant,
i