t over from way trains."

How Tavia Travers ever choked down the biscuit and the slice of ham
that Sam Dixon brought back to her that night--how she actually
fondled old gray Switch, and was glad of his friendly purring during
that long, dreary night, as she lay cuddled up in the very farthest
corner bench--how the night did, after all, go by, and a very gray
dawn bring the welcome step or limp of the station agent, only
Tavia--poor unfortunate Tavia--could ever know!

And it was the next day--daylight at last!

To-day she must get back to camp if she had to walk!

Oh, she _must_ get back! Surely something would happen to assist her!

CHAPTER XV

WHEN THE TRAIN CAME IN

In a very dark corner of the station Tavia found a broken washbowl,
and from the water pail she carried two cups full of water, with which
to refresh her worn and haggard face.

Sam Dixon had brought her word that she might ride back to his
boarding house with him, and share his coffee, but she was to say that
she was his niece, and that she was on her way to her grandmother's,
"like little red riding hood," chuckled Sam, when he disclosed his
plan.

Tavia cared little for coffee, but she was weak, and the fear of being
again left in the station alone prompted her to accept the well-meant
invitation. In fact, she had in her hours of desolation become quite
fond of the little old man with the blackthorn cane.

"Yes, I'll go gladly," she answered, and his pleasure could not be
doubted.

Accordingly, when the milk train had pulled out, and the station was
again locked, Tavia jumped into the narrow carriage beside the old
man, and, asking if he would not like to have her drive, she pulled up
the reins, and they started off.

Here was a new experience. If only now she could forget the agony that
Dorothy must be experiencing, it would not be so dreadful to go at
this early morning hour, over the dewy roads, in the ramshackle buggy
with her benefactor at her side.

"At any rate," she thought to herself, "I'll have a good story to tell
when I _do_ get back to camp."

"Is your place far?" she asked of Sam, more for the sake of talking
than of asking.

"Not so very. You see, it has always been rather rough out this
way--lumbermen and the like always puttin' up at Dobson's. That's why
I thought you was better off in the station, than to try to make your
way about last night. And some of them rough fellows stop at my
place--that's Dobson