k is a long one, but if you will follow me, I
will take you there. I will come for you to-night just before the dawn
breaks. When you hear an owl hoot, you will know that Carlos is outside
your door. You will creep softly, so that we may have several hours
before old Laska wakes. I will bring food and the skins of many wild
rabbits that I have sewed together in the evenings, that you may not
freeze."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE WAY OF ESCAPE.

IN the darkness Olive kept tight hold of Carlos' hand. They ran swiftly
and softly, like frightened hares, each moment dreading to hear
footsteps behind them. But the darkness hid their tracks and a wind was
blowing, which shifted the sand and whirled it into hills and hollows,
so that not even an Indian could find the print of any passing foot.
Besides, old Laska slept soundly and she had not stirred when Olive
stole out from her tent.

Carlos marched toward the east, where the sky looked less dark, until
the cold dawn broke. Before the sun was well up the boy saw something
glinting and glimmering ahead of them like a long steel serpent. He gave
a cry of victory. Breaking away from Olive, Carlos ran ahead. For a
moment he stood balancing himself on the track rails, waving his thin
brown arms and crowing like a young chanticler.

"We will rest here by the iron trail," he announced happily. "I will
build a fire and we will eat. By and by the great wagon will pass by,
roaring and snorting like an angry buffalo. It will take you with it."
For a moment the boy's face clouded. Then, as Olive reached his side, he
laughed at the thought of her joy.

"But, Carlos," Olive whispered. She was weary and almost frozen from her
long tramp across the plains. "You have brought me to the railroad
track, but where is the station? Did you not know that the white man's
trains will not stop unless there is a little house set up by a wooden
platform, where a man at a window sells you small squares of paper?"

Carlos shook his head in confusion. He had no idea what Olive was
talking about, for he had never seen a railroad depot in the twelve
years of his wandering life. But he saw Olive's disappointment and knew
that something in his beautiful plan for his friend was wrong.

"Never you mind, girl," Carlos insisted, shaking his straight, black
hair, like a little foreign king, "I will see that the wagon stops for
you here, where we wait."

Olive dropped down on the ground, too tired to argue or