t we do not get into the same
car, and afterwards you may have a good deal more of trouble to keep us
apart. May I tax you so far?"

"I think so," answered Leslie. "Hark!"

Through the hills above them there swept down a rumble, a roar, and a
rattle, growing deeper every moment.

"Clear the track, there," cried Leslie, loud enough to be heard by all
the hundreds of passengers. "The down-train is coming!"

In an instant the train from Albany broke into sight from the woods
above, and came thundering down, barely giving the passengers who had
been lounging on the track, time to drag themselves and their baggage
out of the way. It was now growing dusk, but the train stopped upon the
bridge without accident; and in a few moments the down passengers were
unloaded and transferred, those going up were on board, and the long
line moved back again, the locomotive in the rear and pushing all the
cars backwards like a gigantic wheelbarrow.

Leslie had taken Miss Harris' hint at once, and kept his eye on the
Colonel when the embarkation was being made. He saw him step on board
one of the rear cars, and himself and his companion took places farther
forward, so that any danger of recognition was past for the time.

There was nothing of incident in the night-ride which followed,
demanding description in these pages, except that Leslie found a
pleasure he had not anticipated, in Miss Josey's growing drowsy and
making a pillow of him eventually. There, have been heavier burdens than
that he bore; and what with the soft breath playing so near his cheek in
the innocence of slumber--the light form around which he was obliged to
clasp his arm (as a matter of duty--to keep her from slipping from the
seat, of course!)--the dashes through dusky woods and the glimpses of
the moonlit river,--what with all these and the pleasant company of a
heart that had never yet known what it was to be desponding, Tom Leslie
managed to enjoy the latter portion of the ride to Albany, amazingly. At
one o'clock he woke up the pleasant burden on his arm, and half an hour
after, Josephine Harris was cradled in soft slumbers at the Delavan, in
Albany, while Tom Leslie, a very human description of guardian angel,
was watching over her slumbers from his sleepless pillow in another wing
of the building.

Corresponding precautions to those of the evening were taken in the
morning, when the travellers took the cars of the Central Road, for
Utica and their separa