On they had gone, he telling all sorts of absurd stories about the money, which, he claimed, was actually secreted in his uncle’s house.  But long before he reached the station at Breakaway Tavia had decided that he was insane—­and that she had been insane not to have realized this awful truth before.

Then she knew that she must humor him—­what might happen if she crossed this strange man of iron will, who had only to ask her to do such a ridiculous thing and she did it?

To run away from camp!  Fun!  Yes, it was funny, very——­

“When we get to the station I will go on ahead,” he had said, to her immense relief.  “Then, when I have told uncle you are coming, and I have gotten him into his good clothes—­uncle is very vain when there are ladies around—­then I shall return for you,” and he had waved himself like a tall young sapling, in that conceited self-conscious pose peculiar to the stage and to—­but Tavia was not sure.  Perhaps, after all, he might not be altogether unbalanced.

With many protestations of his earnestness he had left her at the little railroad station, and as she saw him saunter down the tan-barked path, she had been glad; then again she was sorry.

It was dreadful to be all alone there, and night coming on.  Even the station was locked; to whom could she go or whom could she ask for money to get back to the dear old camp?

For two long hours she had sat there, then the old station agent hobbled along, and opened the ticket office.  Tavia told him something of her plight, but instead of saying that she had come away from her friends on the word of a perfect stranger, she pardonably made the man out to be a distant cousin.

“Hum!  That fellow with the long hair?  Well, I guess they’ll git him to-night.  He’s got loose from the sanitarium on the hill, and there’s been a lot of looking for him in the last two weeks.  Seems to me he’s jest about toured the country,” said the old man as he dusted the window shelf with his cap.  “I reckon they’ll git him now.  And you was out with that chap?”

“Why—­yes, no, that is——­”

“Your cousin, eh?  Say, miss, he ain’t nobody’s cousin.  But like as not he thinks he is cousin to the president himself.”

“If I could only borrow a dollar!” sighed Tavia.

“Well, you could if I hadn’t been caught with that trick twice this summer.  Why, if I gave you a dollar, girl, you would make me believe I was your cousin, too.”

This retort angered Tavia, and she determined to ask no further favors from this old man.  Though he did wear the uniform of a Civil War veteran, he certainly had poor manners.

“What will happen?” she asked herself, confident that something must happen to relieve the situation.

“The best I kin do,” growled the old station agent, “will be to fetch you a bite to eat back from my boardin’ house; and then let you sleep here till mornin’——­”