Chapter I

Hilda Lessing stood hesitating fearfully before the wide expanse of
railroad tracks that seemed to be fairly bristling with menacing
engines, some moving, some standing still. In her bewilderment she could
not be sure which were moving and which were standing still. They all
seemed alive, waiting to pounce upon her if she stirred.

The conductor had told her, when he put her off the express, that the
other train made good connection, and she had no time to waste. He had
pointed across all those tracks, and across them she must go. She made a
wild dash, accomplished half the distance, and suddenly found herself
snatched from the very teeth of a flying express that had appeared like
a comet out of the mêlée, and held in strong arms against a bit of rail
fence that traversed the space between the tracks for a little distance.

It seemed ages that she clung with trembling arms to a big rough
shoulder, her body pressed against the fence, one hand still gripping
the suitcase jammed between her and the fence, while an interminable
train rushed, car after car, past her reeling brain, the hot breath of
its going blasting her cheeks. To add to the horror, another train
dashed into sight on the other side of the frail fence and tore along in
the opposite direction. She felt like a leaf in a crevice with a great
roaring avalanche on either side. If she should let go her feeble hold
of the rescuer for a single instant, or if he failed her, she was lost.
Her horrified eyes were strained and fascinated with the fearful
spectacle till it seemed she could bear it no longer; then she closed
them with a shiver and dropped her face to the broad blue jean shoulder
that offered the only relief.

The strong arms seemed to hold her closer with a reassuring pressure
that comforted her. The rushing of the train was growing less as if some
spell had it within control now, and she felt herself lifted and borne
swiftly beyond the noise and confusion. She dared not open her eyes
until he put her down upon a quiet bench at the far end of the platform
away from the crowds.

She dimly felt that people were looking curiously, excitedly, after her,
and that the trainmen, with startled faces, were calling out something
to her companion; but she paid no heed to any of them. She only saw his
face bending solicitously over her, his pleasant eyes so brown and
merry, and heard his cheery voice:

“Say, kid, that was a close call! Didn’t you know any better than to
cross those tracks with both fliers due? Where was the station man, I’d
like to know, that he let you start?”

“Oh!” gasped Hilda, turning whiter than ever. “I didn’t know! I couldn’t
find a way across, and I had to make my train!” Then the tears came in a
flood of nervous reaction and she dropped her face into her hands and
sobbed.

The man in the blue overalls sidled up to her in dismay and put his big
arm awkwardly around her, forgetful of his amused comrades not far away.

“There! There! Kid! Don’t cry! It’s all over, and you’re perfectly
safe!”

He patted her slender shaking shoulders gently with a big blackened
hand, and looked helplessly down at the girl.

“What train were you meaning to take?” he asked with sudden inspiration.

Hilda lifted a pair of drenched blue eyes, large and wide, with a new
fear, and started to her feet.

“Oh! The train to Platt’s Crossing! Has it gone? I ought to hurry! Which
way do I go?”

The young man looked at his watch. He had nice hair and a handsome head.
She liked the way the dark curl fell over his white forehead, and the
strength of the bronzed neck above the jumper.

“You’ve plenty of time. Number ten isn’t due for fifteen minutes. Come
over to the restaurant and have a cup of coffee. That’ll put some pep
into you.”

He seized the suitcase and led the way. She noticed that he did
everything as if he were a gentleman. She liked the way he pulled out
the chair and seated her at the table. He gave an order for sandwiches,
coffee, baked apples and cream. It looked good to her after a night and
morning of fasting.

“Do you live at Platt’s Crossing?” His brown eyes were fixed pleasantly,
respectfully upon her.

“No! That is—I live in Chicago—or I did till Father died. I’m going to
work at Platt’s Crossing.”

She spoke as if it were an unpleasant fact that had not yet become
familiar enough to lose the pain of its expression.

“You look young to go to work,” he said kindly, interestedly. “What
line? Telephone girl or stenography?”

The color stole up under her clear skin.

“Neither,” she said bravely. “It’s a truck farm. They’re Germans my
uncle knows. I’m to help. Housework, I suppose. I’m going to try to like
it, but I wanted to teach. I had finished high school and was going to
normal next fall if Father hadn’t died. But something happened to our
money and I had to take this place. Mother’s got a place as matron in an
orphan asylum, where she could take my little brother with her. It isn’t
very pleasant, but it was the best that we could do.”

“That’s tough luck, kid!” said the young man sympathetically, “but brace
up! If you’ve got it in you to teach you’ll get your chance yet. Are you
German?”

“No,” said the girl decidedly. “Father was. He was born in Germany. He
liked this country, though, and didn’t keep running back to Germany
every year the way my uncle does. But mother and I are Americans. Mother
was born in Chicago.”

“Well, you’d better keep your eyes open, kid! Those German truck farms
have been getting a bad name since the war broke out. There are lots of
spies around just now. You can’t tell what you may come across.”

There was a twinkle of fun in his eyes, but a strain of earnestness in
his voice. The girl looked at him in wide-eyed wonder.

“You don’t suppose there would be any such thing as that?” she asked,
dropping her spoon. “I thought spies were just newspaper talk. Our high
school teacher used to say so.”

“Well, there are plenty of spies around all right!” he said seriously.
“It’s not all newspaper talk. But don’t you worry. It isn’t likely
they’ll come around you, and you might not know them for spies if they
did.”

“Oh! I should be so frightened!” she said, her hand fluttering to her
throat. “What do people do when they discover spies?”

“Just lie low and send word to Washington as quick as they can. But
don’t look like that, kid; I was just talking nonsense!”

She tried to answer his smile with another.

“I know I’m silly,” she said contritely, “but it seems so dreadful to
come to this strange place among people I don’t know anything about.”

“Oh, you’ll come out all right. It won’t be so bad as you think. They’ll
likely turn out to be fine.”

She took a deep breath and smiled bravely.

“I don’t know what Mother would say if she knew I was talking to you,”
she remarked anxiously. “She brought me up never to speak to strange
young men. But you’ve been so kind saving my life! Only I wouldn’t like
to have you think I’m that kind of a girl——”

“Of course not!” he said indignantly. “Anybody could see that with a
glance. I hope you haven’t thought I was fresh, either. I saw you were
all in and needed a little jollying up. I guess those two expresses sort
of introduced us, didn’t they? I’m Dan Stevens. My father is—has a
position—that is, he _works_ on the railroad, and I’m engineer just at
present on number five freight. I’ll be glad to be of service to you at
any time.”

“My name is Hilda Lessing,” said the girl shyly. “You certainly have
been kind to me. I shan’t ever forget that I would have been killed if
it hadn’t been for you. I guess you might have been killed, too. You
were very brave, jumping in between those trains after me. I shan’t feel
quite so lonesome and homesick now, knowing there’s someone I know
between Platt’s Crossing and Chicago.”

“Oh, that wasn’t anything!” said the young man lightly. “That’s part of
the railroad business, you know. But say! It’s rank to be homesick!
Suppose I give you a signal as I pass Platt’s Crossing. I get there at
2:05 usually, unless we’re late. It will maybe cheer you up to let you
know there’s somebody around you know. I’ll give three long blasts and
two short ones. That’ll be to say: ‘Hello! How are you? Here’s a
friend!’ I know where that truck farm is, right along the railroad
before you get to the bridge, about a quarter of a mile this side. There
isn’t much else at Platt’s Crossing but that farm. We stop to take on
freight sometimes. Here, I’ll tell you what you do. If everything’s all
right and you think things are going to go you just hang a towel or
apron or something white out your window, or on the fence rail
somewhere. I’ll be watching for it. That will be like saying: ‘I’m very
well, thank you.’ Won’t that make you feel a little more at home?”

“It certainly will. It will be something to look forward to,” said Hilda
smiling shyly. “I shan’t be half as much afraid if I know there is
somebody going by to whom I could signal if I got into trouble. Of
course, I know I won’t, but you understand.”

“Of course,” said the engineer rising. “That’s all right. If you get
into trouble or find that spy or anything, you can hand out a red rag
for a danger signal, and then I’ll know there is something that needs to
be looked after. See? Now, I guess we had better beat it. It’s time for
that train of yours. I’m glad to have met you. You’re a mighty plucky
little girl and I honor you.”

He pushed back his chair and picked up the suitcase. She noticed again
the ease of every movement, as if he were waiting on the greatest lady
in the land. Then the train boomed in; he put her on, found a seat for
her, touched his greasy cap with courteous grace and was gone. A moment
more and she was started on her way to Platt’s Crossing.

She paid little heed to the landscape by the way, for she was going over
and over again all that had happened since she set her first timid step
across that labyrinth of tracks, and was caught from sudden death by the
strong arms of the young engineer. Various sensations that had hardly
seemed to register at the time now came back to make her heart leap and
her pulses thrill with horror or wonder or a strange new pleasure. How
strong he had been! How well he had protected her, with never a quiver
of his sturdy frame while those monster trains leaped by! How little and
safe and cared-for she had felt in spite of her fear! And how thoughtful
he had been, taking her to get some lunch and planning to cheer her up a
little on her first lonely day at the new home! Perhaps Mother would not
quite think that was proper, for she had warned her many times to have
nothing to with strange young men, but, then, Mother surely would
understand if she could see him. He was a perfect gentleman, if he did
wear blue jean overalls: and besides, they would never likely see each
other again. What possible harm could a whistle and a white towel
hanging out a window do? He wouldn’t likely do it but once, and, of
course, she wouldn’t; and it was pleasant to feel that there was someone
to whom she could appeal if anything really frightened her, which, of
course, there wouldn’t. And, anyhow, he had saved her life and she must
be polite to him.

It seemed ages since she had left her mother and little brother the day
before to start on this long journey into the world. She seemed to have
come a lifetime in experience since then. What would it be like at the
farm? Was she going to like it, or was it going to be the awful stretch
of emptiness that she had pictured it ever since Uncle Otto had told her
she was to go? Somehow, since she had talked with the young engineer
there was just the least bit of a rift in the darkness of her despair.
He had said that if she had it in her to teach she would get her
opportunity. Well, she could be patient and wait. Meantime, it was
pleasant to think of that handsome young man and the courteous way in
which he had treated her. He reminded her of a picture she had once seen
of a prince. True, he was not dressed in princely robes, but she was
American enough to recognize a prince in spite of his attire.

She still had the dream of him in her mind when she got out at Platt’s
Crossing and looked around bewildered at the loneliness of the
landscape.

There was nothing more than a shanty for a station, and the only other
building in sight was a dingy wooden house across some rough, plowed
fields, with a large barn at a little distance from it.

She looked about in dismay for something else to guide her, and
perceived a man coming toward her. He was attired in brown jeans with an
old straw hat on his head, and he was as far as possible from any
likeness to the young man who had put her on the train. Idealism soaring
high and sweet above her head suddenly collapsed at her feet and she
went forward to meet the stolid-looking man.

There was no kindly greeting, no lighting of the face, nor twinkling of
the little pig eyes. She might have been a plow or a bag of fertilizer
just deposited, for all the personality he allowed to her. He asked her
if she was the girl from Chicago in much the same way he would have
looked at the markings on some freight to be sure it was his before he
went to the trouble of carrying it home.

Hilda had a shrinking notion that he was rather disappointed in her
appearance. He pointed across the plowed ground to the forlorn house in
the distance and told her she could go on up, they were waiting for her;
as if it were her fault that she had not been there before.

Hilda picked up her heavy suitcase, looked dubiously at the long, rough
road before her and glanced at the man. He had apparently forgotten her
existence. He made no effort to carry her burden for her. With a sudden
set of her firm little chin and a keen remembrance of the strong young
engineer who had carried it so gallantly a little while before, she
started bravely on her way, slowly, painfully toiling over the rough
ground, and in her inexperience taking the hardest, longest way across
the furrows.

The stolid woman who met her at the door with arms akimbo, furiously red
face and small blue eyes that observed her apprizingly, was a fit mate
for the man who had directed her to the house. She gave no smile of
welcome. Her lips were thin and set, though she was not unkindly. Hilda
gathered that her coming had not been exactly looked forward to with
pleasure, and that her presence was regarded more in the light of an
unpleasant necessity than that of a companionable helper, as her uncle
would have had her think.

“So! You’ve come!” said the woman in a colorless voice.

“Yes!” said Hilda. “Is this Mrs. Schwarz?”

The woman nodded, meantime giving her closer scrutiny.

“You ain’t so strong!” she announced sternly, as if the girl were
somehow defrauding her of what she had a right to expect.

Hilda put down her suitcase and straightened her slender back, tilting
her delicate chin just a shade.

“I’m never sick,” she said coldly. She looked regretfully back across
the rough way she had come to the friendly railroad tracks gleaming in
the distance and wished she dared turn and flee. Then she saw the stolid
man moving heavily across the field, and turned back to her fate.

“You can take it up to your room,” the colorless voice directed,
pointing to the suitcase. “Up the stairs und the first door in front.
Ged in your vork cloes und cum down und help me. I haf mooch to do!”

Hilda fled up the stairs. A sudden desire to cry had stung in her eyes
and crowded into her throat. She must not break down now, just at this
first hour in her new home and before her employers.

She drew the door shut and noticed with joy that there was a lock. She
turned the key softly and went to the one little window, looking out
stealthily. Yes, it was on the side of the house toward the railroad
track, whether front or back she could not tell, the house was of so
nondescript a fashion. But her heart rejoiced that at least she would
not have to maneuver and contrive to fling out her signal.

Opening her suitcase she took out a little white apron and hung it out
the window by its strings. She removed her hat, bathed her face,
smoothed her hair, and changed her dress for a neat school gingham. She
was about to go downstairs when a low distant rumble broke on her ear.
Hurrying to the window, she knelt on the floor and looked out. Yes, it
was a freight train winding far down the valley, coming up the shining
steel track. Was it his train? Would he remember to look or would he not
expect her to have the signal ready before tomorrow?

Forgetful of her waiting mistress and the new duties below stairs, she
knelt and watched the train crawl like a black writhing serpent up the
track; and just as it drew near and was almost in front of her window
the voice of her mistress sounded raucously up the passageway with
insistency:

“I haf told you to hurry! You should cum down at vonce!” The tinge of
German accent was stronger under excitement.

“Yes, in just a minute, Mrs. Schwarz!” called Hilda, turning her head
excitedly from the window to answer. At that instant the clear piercing
shriek of the whistle sounded forth:

——! ——! ——! —! —!

The voice of the mistress was drowned beyond all hearing. Hilda leaned
out of her window, caught the little white apron and fluttered it forth
at arm’s length. The train was opposite the house now, and the girl
could distinctly see a cap waved from the caboose of the engine,
although the distance across the fields was not short. Something happy
leaped up in her heart, making her cheeks glow and her eyes shine. And
then came the blast of the whistle again:

——! ——! ——! —! —!

The train passed on over the big bridge, whose high stone arches
reflected in the stream below; and echoing back its signal as it passed
it wound on between the hills and was gone. Then Hilda got to her feet
with illumined face and went down to meet her future. She had not even
seen the young lout in cowhide boots and brown overalls who had appeared
out of the clods of the earth it would seem, in color like unto them,
and stood leaning against a fence, leering up at the window.