d her lips to answer, nothing but a sob would come to
them for a minute, and then she could only cry, pitifully:

"Help! Help!"

"Whar be you?" twanged the voice; and now she could see a horse and
rider like a shadow moving toward her down the track.

CHAPTER II

The horse came to a standstill a little way from the track, and his
rider let forth a stream of strange profanity. The girl shuddered and
began to think a wild beast might be preferable to some men. However,
these remarks seemed to be a mere formality. He paused and addressed
her:

"Heow'd yeh git up thar? D'j'yeh drap er climb?"

He was a little, wiry man with a bristly, protruding chin. She could see
that, even in the starlight. There was something about the point of that
stubby chin that she shrank from inexpressibly. He was not a pleasant
man to look upon, and even his voice was unprepossessing. She began to
think that even the night with its loneliness and unknown perils was
preferable to this man's company.

"I got off the train by mistake, thinking it was my station, and before
I discovered it the train had gone and left me," Margaret explained,
with dignity.

"Yeh didn't 'xpect it t' sit reound on th' plain while you was
gallivantin' up water-tanks, did yeh?"

Cold horror froze Margaret's veins. She was dumb for a second. "I am on
my way to Ashland station. Can you tell me how far it is from here and
how I can get there?" Her tone was like icicles.

"It's a little matter o' twenty miles, more 'r less," said the man
protruding his offensive chin. "The walkin's good. I don't know no other
way from this p'int at this time o' night. Yeh might set still till th'
mornin' freight goes by an' drap atop o' one of the kyars."

"Sir!" said Margaret, remembering her dignity as a teacher.

The man wheeled his horse clear around and looked up at her impudently.
She could smell bad whisky on his breath.

"Say, you must be some young highbrow, ain't yeh? Is thet all yeh want
o' me? 'Cause ef 'tis I got t' git on t' camp. It's a good five mile
yet, an' I 'ain't hed no grub sence noon."

The tears suddenly rushed to the girl's eyes as the horror of being
alone in the night again took possession of her. This dreadful man
frightened her, but the thought of the loneliness filled her with
dismay.

"Oh!" she cried, forgetting her insulted dignity, "you're not going to
leave me up here alone, are you? Isn't there some place near here where
I could s