eft of her if she were
wrenched away from them. Never could she pass beyond that skyline
against which her restlessness had beat so many times. She felt as if
her soul had built itself a nest there on that horizon at which
she looked every morning and every evening, and it was dear to her,
inexpressibly dear. She pressed her fingers against her eyeballs to shut
it out. Beside her she heard the tramping of horses in the soft earth.
Nils said nothing to her. He put his hands under her arms and lifted her
lightly to her saddle. Then he swung himself into his own.

"We shall have to ride fast to catch the midnight train. A last gallop,
Clara Vavrika. Forward!"

There was a start, a thud of hoofs along the moonlit road, two dark
shadows going over the hill; and then the great, still land stretched
untroubled under the azure night. Two shadows had passed.

VII

A year after the flight of Olaf Ericson's wife, the night train was
steaming across the plains of Iowa. The conductor was hurrying through
one of the day coaches, his lantern on his arm, when a lank, fair-haired
boy sat up in one of the plush seats and tweaked him by the coat.

"What is the next stop, please, sir?"

"Red Oak, Iowa. But you go through to Chicago, don't you?" He looked
down, and noticed that the boy's eyes were red and his face was drawn,
as if he were in trouble.

"Yes. But I was wondering whether I could get off at the next place and
get a train back to Omaha."

"Well, I suppose you could. Live in Omaha?"

"No. In the western part of the State. How soon do we get to Red Oak?"

"Forty minutes. You'd better make up your mind, so I can tell the
baggageman to put your trunk off."

"Oh, never mind about that! I mean, I haven't got any," the boy added,
blushing.

"Run away," the conductor thought, as he slammed the coach door behind
him.

Eric Ericson crumpled down in his seat and put his brown hand to his
forehead. He had been crying, and he had had no supper, and his head was
aching violently. "Oh, what shall I do?" he thought, as he looked dully
down at his big shoes. "Nils will be ashamed of me; I haven't got any
spunk."

Ever since Nils had run away with his brother's wife, life at home had
been hard for little Eric. His mother and Olaf both suspected him of
complicity. Mrs. Ericson was harsh and faultfinding, constantly wounding
the boy's pride; and Olaf was always setting her against him.

Joe Vavrika he