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, 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.