ly, for an
instant he saw a cabin set like a toy house at the wooden bridge where the
thoroughfare crossed. Then the eastbound, having made a great loop, found
another hidden gateway and moved up to the levels above Lake Keechelus.
The whistle signalled a mountain station, and Tisdale rose and went out to
the platform; when the trucks jolted to a standstill, he swung himself
down to the ground to enjoy a breath of the fine air.

The next moment he found himself almost upon a wrecked automobile. He saw
in a flash that the road, coming through a cut, crossed the railroad
track, and that in making a quick turn to avoid the end of the slowing
train, the chauffeur had forced the car into the bank. The machine was
still upright, but it listed forward on a broken axle. A young woman who
had kept her seat in the tonneau was nursing a painful wrist, while two
girls, who evidently had come through the accident unscathed, were trying
to help the only man of the party up from the ground. Tisdale bent to give
him the support of his shoulder, and, groaning, the stranger settled
against the side of his car and into a sitting position on the edge of the
floor, easing an injured leg. He had also received an ugly hurt above his
brows, which were heavy and black and met in an angle over a prominent
nose.

The lady in the tonneau and one of the girls had the same marked features
and the same brilliant dark eyes, though the retreating chin, which in the
man amounted to almost a blemish, in them was modified. But the last one
in the party, whom Tisdale had noticed first, was not like the rest. She
was not like any one in the world he had seen before. From the hem of her
light gray motoring coat to the crown of her big hat, she was a delight to
the eyes. The veil that tied the hat down framed a face full of a piquant
yet delicate charm. She was watching the man huddled against the machine,
and her mouth, parted a little, showed the upper lip short with the upward
curves of a bow. It was as though words were arrested, half spoken, and
her eyes, shadowy under curling dark lashes, held their expression,
uncertain whether to sparkle out or to cloud.

After a moment the man lifted his head and, meeting her look, smiled. "I'm
all right," he said, "only I've wrenched this knee; sprained it, I guess.
And my head feels like a drum."

"Oh, I am--glad"--her voice fluctuated softly, but the sparkle broke in
her eyes--"that it isn't worse. Would you li