"No use talking, sir. You keep this gentleman waiting. Bring the check." And all poor old Bryan could do was to select a seat in the car most distant from that fatal Cleopatra. The Pullman porter could enlist but three passengers for her,--Lucy Lander and the frightened Bryan children. No! it was morning before they had any companions to whom to tell dreams or adventures. But, early in the morning, the train stops at Chimborazo. Poor old Bryan had left it in the night at Blunt Axe, and was even then scanning the rails of the fatal bridge and peering down into the river. Was this blood or iron-rust? Was yonder white gleam a bit of his child's clothing? The train stops at Chimborazo. And Lucy Lander and the children are not to be longer alone. Horace Ray enters. Jane Forsyth enters. And here are Fanny and Alice and Emma--all the girls--and Walter and Siegfried and James--all the boys. We change porters. Here comes John, the boy we started with on the wedding journey. Scree! Scree! "All aboard!" The train dashes away. "John, you make up six," says Horace, to the amazement of all the others; and Horace stands by as John unbolts the upper berth and lets it down. And there, as fresh as a rose, as if she were just waking from happy dreams--there lies, there smiles, our Hester! Yes, it is she. She rises on her elbow, she jumps into Horace's arms. Fairly before all these people--are they not friends, and true friends?--kisses her, and she kisses him. "Did you sleep well, my darling?" "I believe--well, I believe it has not seemed long. Yes, I must have slept sometimes." And Horace slipped the old engagement-ring upon the naked finger. "You may bring in breakfast, John." And this time the breakfast was hot, the appetites were sure, and, without champagne, the party was merry. Lucy Lander told the fate of Baltasar. Jane Foryth asked where the Saratoga trunk was, and Hester produced the check from her own pocket. At the crossing at New Dutzow the Cleopatra was detached from the express-train, and, to the marvel of waiting Buckeye boys, passed up on the virgin rails of the Scioto Valley Line, unaccustomed to such wonders. A special engine was waiting. A short hour brought the merry party to Kiowa Centre. There was Horace's buggy, there were carriages galore, and a more modest procession than that of yesterday took them to the Methodist meeting-house. And there Asbury Perham, who told me the end of the story, asked Horace Ray if he would have this woman to be his wedded wife. And he said, "I will." And there the existence of Hester Bryan, my pretty friend, under that particular name which she had borne from her infancy, ended. MAX KEESLER'S HORSE-CAR.