That done, the man turned toward the girl and motioned to her to lead her horse away to a more quiet place, and set him down to plead steadily against her decision.  But the talk and the horse-selling had taken more time than he realized.  The girl was more decided than ever in her determination not to go with him.  She spoke of the lady again.  She spoke of his mother, and mothers in general, and finished by reminding him that God would take care of her, and of him, too.

Then they heard the whistle of the train, and saw it growing from a speck to a large black object across the plain.  To the girl the sight of this strange machine, that seemed more like a creature rushing toward her to snatch all beauty and hope and safety from her, sent a thrill of horror.  To the man it seemed like a dreaded fate that was tearing him asunder.  He had barely time to divest himself of his powder-horn, and a few little things that might be helpful to the girl in her journey, before the train was halting at the station.  Then he took from his pocket the money that had been paid him for his horse; and, selecting a five-dollar bill for himself, he wrapped the rest in an envelope bearing his own name and address.  The envelope was one addressed by the lady at home.  It had contained some gracefully worded refusal of a request.  But he did not notice now what envelope he gave her.

“Take this,” he said.  “It will help a little.  Yes, you must!  I cannot leave you—­I will not—­unless you do,” when he saw that she hesitated and looked doubtful.  “I owe you all and more for saving my life.  I can never repay you.  Take it.  You may return it sometime when you get plenty more of your own, if it hurts your pride to keep it.  Take it, please.  Yes, I have plenty for myself.  You will need it, and you must stop at nice places overnight.  You will be very careful, won’t you?  My name is on that envelope.  You must write to me and let me know that you are safe.”

“Some one is calling you, and that thing is beginning to move again,” said the girl, an awesome wonder in her face.  “You will be left behind!  O, hurry!  Quick!  Your mother!”

He half turned toward the train, and then came back.

“You haven’t told me your name!” he gasped.  “Tell me quick!”

She caught her breath.

“Elizabeth!” she answered, and waved him from her.

The conductor of the train was shouting to him, and two men shoved him toward the platform.  He swung himself aboard with the accustomed ease of a man who has travelled; but he stood on the platform, and shouted, “Where are you going?” as the train swung noisily off.

She did not hear him, but waved her hand, and gave him a bright smile that was brimming with unshed tears.  It seemed like instant, daring suicide in him to stand on that swaying, clattering house as it moved off irresponsibly down the plane of vision.  She watched him till he was out of sight, a mere speck on the horizon of the prairie; and then she turned her horse slowly into the road, and went her way into the world alone.