rdly wait till morning to tell the Major of
his discovery. Major Dudley's face beamed when the news was given him.

"Keep it still, Peter," he counselled, "and watch him. There'll be
racing here in July next year."

Winter passed and the Spring came again, and Peter hied himself and The
Prince to the race track as soon as the earth became solid. He went
always at night, and always alone, but a rumour began to spread through
Macon and the county in general that Major Dudley's colt was a marvel,
and could make a mile in two minutes flat. Certainly the story lost
nothing by its constant re-telling, and while few believed it true, yet
everyone confided it to his neighbor as a matter of gossip.

Then came the night of the cowardly attempt upon The Prince's life.

* * * * *

The evening express from the north was due at Macon a quarter till
eleven. The night of the day upon which Major Dudley had promised to his
daughter a revelation of certain things which had been kept hidden from
her, this train was running fifteen minutes late. The engineer was
trying to make the time up, and in consequence the coaches were swaying
and jerking over the rather imperfect roadbed. Crouched in the corner of
a seat next the window sat a young man. It would have been impossible to
form any idea of his physical appearance from the uncouth position which
he had assumed. It was quite evident from this that he was traveling
entirely alone. He had slipped down in his seat until his head was below
the top of its back. His long legs were flexed so that his knees rested
against the back of the seat in front of him. His shoulders, unusually
broad and square, drooped somewhat, as from weariness; his chin was sunk
upon his shirt front, and his cap was pulled well down over his eyes, so
that only a portion of his face could be seen. The line of shadow
slanted across his face sharply just at the cheek bone, revealing below
it a smoothly shaven surface, and a chin as square and resolute as the
shoulders. In common with the majority of his fellow-passengers, he was
dozing. The conductor came unsteadily up the aisle, fumbled at his cap
band for the piece of paper sticking in it, then, observing that the man
was asleep, he shook him gently by the shoulder. The sleeper aroused
readily, and in response to "Your's next station," nodded his head, and
turned, as one will do the blackest night, to look out the window. This
not with