said they did not have time, and, on the moment, the air was startled with whistles far and near—­six o’clock!  At once Caleb Hazel led the way to supper in the boarding-house, where a kind-faced old lady spoke to Chad in a motherly way, and where the boy saw his first hot biscuit and was almost afraid to eat anything at the table for fear he might do something wrong.  For the first time in his life, too, he slept on a mattress without any feather-bed, and Chad lay wondering, but unsatisfied still.  Not yet had he been out of sight of the hills, but the master had told him that they would see the Bluegrass next day, when they were to start back to the mountains by train as far as Lexington.  And Chad went to sleep, dreaming his old dream.

CHAPTER 6

LOST AT THE CAPITAL

It had been arranged by the school-master that they should all meet at the railway station to go home, next day at noon, and, as the Turner boys had to help the Squire with the logs at the river, and the school-master had to attend to some business of his own, Chad roamed all morning around the town.  So engrossed was he with the people and the sights and sounds of the little village that he came to himself with a start and trotted back to the boarding-house for fear that he might not be able to find the station alone.  The old lady was standing in the sunshine at the gate.

Chad panted—­“Where’s—?”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone!” echoed Chad, with a sinking heart.

“Yes, they’ve been gone—­” But Chad did not wait to listen; he whirled into the hall-way, caught up his rifle, and, forgetting his injured foot, fled at full speed down the street.  He turned the corner, but could not see the station, and he ran on about another corner and still another, and, just when he was about to burst into tears, he saw the low roof that he was looking for, and hot, panting, and tired, he rushed to it, hardly able to speak.

“Has that enJINE gone?” he asked breathlessly.  The man who was whirling trunks on their corners into the baggage-room did not answer.  Chad’s eyes flashed and he caught the man by the coat-tail.

“Has that enJINE gone?” he cried.

The man looked over his shoulder.

“Leggo my coat, you little devil.  Yes, that enJINE’S gone,” he added, mimicking.  Then he saw the boy’s unhappy face and he dropped the trunk and turned to him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, kindly.

Chad had turned away with a sob.

“They’ve lef’ me—­they’ve lef’ me,” he said, and then, controlling himself: 

“Is thar another goin’?”

“Not till to-morrow mornin’.”

Another sob came, and Chad turned away—­he did not want anybody to see him cry.  And this was no time for crying, for Chad’s prayer back at the grave under the poplar flashed suddenly back to him.