Harber and Janet sat in the long grass, their hearts stirring with the same urgent, inarticulate thoughts, their hands clasped together.

“Let’s wait for Eighty-seven,” she said.

Harber pressed her hand for reply.

In the mind of each of them Eighty-seven was the symbol of release from Tawnleytown, of freedom, of romance.

Presently a shifting light appeared in the east, a faint rumble became perceptible and increased.  The swaying shaft of light intensified and a moment later the long-drawn poignancy of a chime-whistle blowing for the river-road crossing, exquisitely softened by distance, echoingly penetrated the still valley.

A streak of thunderous light swam into view and passed them, plunging into a gap in the west.  The fire-box in the locomotive opened and flung a flood of light upon a swirling cloud of smoke.  A sharp turn in the track, a weak blast of the whistle at the bridge-head, and the “Limited,” disdaining contemptible Tawnleytown, had swept out of sight—­into the world—­at a mile to the minute.

“If I were on it,” said Harber slowly.

Janet caught her breath sharply.  “You’re a man!” she said fiercely.  “You could be—­so easily!”

Harber was startled for a moment.  Her kindling of his flame of adventure had been very subtle until now.  Perhaps she hadn’t been sure before to-day of her standing.  But this afternoon, upon the still isolation of Bald Knob, there had been many kisses exchanged, and brave vows of undying love.  And no doubt she felt certain of him now.

With Harber, however, the pathway had seemed leading otherwhere.  He wasn’t the sort of youth to kiss and ride away.  And, discounting their adventurous talk, he had tacitly supposed that his course the last few weeks spelled the confinement of the four walls of a Tawnleytown cottage, the fetters of an early marriage.  He had been fighting his mounting fever for the great world, and thinking, as the train sped by, that after all “home was best.”  It would be.  It must be.  So, if his fine dreams were the price he must pay for Janet, still he would pay them!  And he was startled by her tone.

Her slim fingers tightened upon his.

“Why do you stay?” she cried passionately.  “Why don’t you go?”

“There’s you,” he began.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, I’m selfish, maybe!  I don’t know!  But it’s as much for me as for you that I say it!”

Her words poured out tumultuously.

“Where are all our wonderful dreams—­if you stay here?  Gone aglimmering!  Gone!  I can’t see them all go—­I can’t!  Can you?”

Was he to have, then, both Janet and his dreams?  His heart quickened. 
He leaned impulsively toward her.

She pushed his face away with her free hand.

“No—­no!  Wait till I’m through!  We’ve always known we weren’t like other Tawnleytown folk, haven’t we, dear?  We’ve always said that we wanted more out of life than they—­that we wouldn’t be content with half a loaf—­that we wanted the bravest adventures, the yellowest gold, the finest emotions, the greater power!  And if now ...