The night before he had rushed headlong from his uncle's house, smarting
under injustice, and had walked blindly until he came to the
Forty-second Street station. His faint and wretched spirit longed for
nothing but escape from the brutal city where he had squandered his
talent, crushed his spirit and made a poor apprenticeship to
ingratitude. A baggage car on the main line, with an open door, was the
only means of transportation of which Fairfax could avail himself, and
he had crept into it undiscovered, stowed himself away, hoping that the
train's direction was westward and expecting to be thrown out at any
moment. Thus far his journey had been made undiscovered. He didn't
wonder where he was--he didn't care. Any place was good enough to be
penniless in and to jump off from! His one idea at the moment was food.

"God!" he thought to himself, "to be hungry like this and not be a
beggar or a criminal, just a duffer of a gentleman of no account!"

He reached the engine-house and passed before the line of iron
locomotives, silent and vigorous in their quiescent might, and full of
inert power. He set his teeth, for the locomotives made him think of his
beloved beasts. A choking sensation came in his throat and tears to his
blue eyes. He thrust his hands in the pockets of his overcoat and went
on. In front of him a city street came down to the tracks, and sharp
across it cut the swinging gates which fell as Fairfax approached.
Behind him the switches snapped; another train, this time a fast
express, rushed past him. He watched it mutely; the flinging up of the
dust around the wheels, the siss and roar and wind of its passing smote
through him. It was gone.

He limped on. The street leading down to the tracks was filthy with mud
and with the effects of the late rain. It was to Fairfax an avenue into
an empty and unknown town. Small, vile, cobbled with great stones, the
alley ran between lines of two-storied frame buildings, tenement houses
which were the home of the railroad employes. The shutters were all
closed, there was not a sign of life. Fairfax came up with the
signal-box by the swinging gate, and a man with a rolled red flag stood
in the doorway. He looked at Fairfax with little curiosity and the young
man decided not to ask him any questions for fear that his stolen ride
should be discovered. As he passed on and went into the empty street, he
mused--

"It is curious how we are all taking pains to escape consequ