on one elbow and looked out the window. The train slowed
with a squealing of brakes and the hiss of escaping air to a station.
On the signboard over the office window she read the name of the place
and the notation: "Vancouver, 180 miles."

Her eyes were still wet. When the Limited drove east again she
switched on the tiny electric bulb over her head, and fumbled in her
purse for another handkerchief. Her fingers drew forth, with the bit
of linen, a folded sheet of paper, which seemed to hypnotize her, so
fixedly did she remain looking at it. A sheet of plain white paper,
marked with dots and names and crooked lines that stood for rivers,
with shaded patches that meant mountain ranges she had seen--Bill
Wagstaff's map.

She stared at it a long time. Then she found her time-table, and ran
along the interminable string of station names till she found Ashcroft,
from whence northward ran the Appian Way of British Columbia, the
Cariboo Road, over which she had journeyed by stage. She noted the
distance, and the Limited's hour of arrival, and looked at her watch.
Then a feverish activity took hold of her. She dressed, got her suit
case from under the berth, and stuffed articles into it, regardless of
order. Her hat was in a paper bag suspended from a hook above the
upper berth. Wherefore, she tied a silk scarf over her head.

That done, she set her suit case in the aisle, and curled herself in
the berth, with her face pressed close against the window. A whimsical
smile played about her mouth, and her fingers tap-tapped steadily on
the purse, wherein was folded Bill Wagstaff's map.

And then out of the dark ahead a cluster of lights winked briefly, the
shriek of the Limited's whistle echoed up and down the wide reaches of
the North Thompson, and the coaches came to a stop. Hazel took one
look to make sure. Then she got softly into the aisle, took up her
suit case, and left the car. At the steps she turned to give the car
porter a message.

"Tell Mrs. Marsh--the lady in lower five," she said, with a dollar to
quicken his faculties, "that Miss Weir had to go back. Say that I will
write soon and explain."

She stood back in the shadow of the station for a few seconds. The
Limited's stop was brief. When the red lights went drumming down the
track, she took up her suit case and walked uptown to the hotel where
she had tarried overnight once before.

The clerk showed her to a room. She threw her suit case on