A moment after Mr. Lot Kruger passes the two, and gives Harry a by no means kindly glance, for he has noticed the attentions of this gentleman to the daughter of his old friend, and does not like them. This feeling is perhaps also felt, though at this time in a lesser degree, by Mr. Oliver Livingston, who somehow or other has arrived at the conclusion that Miss Travenion likes to listen to the conversation of this gentleman from the West, and does not like it very much more than Mr. Kruger. Consequently, when the engineer rings the bell and the conductor cries, "All aboard!" Harry Lawrence has made one active and one at present passive enemy, though he is rapidly growing to be a hero in Mr. Ferdie's imagination; and as for Buck Powers, he has loved and admired this young engineer of the Pacific Railway for years, as nearly every other employee of the same, especially those engaged in its early building, have done ever since he ran the lines in Nebraska when that State was a howling wilderness of Indians, wild animals, trappers and prairies. Then the train, getting under headway, passes with illuminated Pullmans and flashing headlight into the night of the plains. Miss Travenion, with a new interest in her mind as to this Western gentleman chance seems to have thrown into her way, looks out of her stateroom--the car is half empty, most of its male passengers being in the smoking room with their after-dinner cigars. Among them, Ferdie and Ollie. Captain Lawrence is at the other end of the car, conversing with Mrs. Livingston and Louise. Erma carelessly picks up a book,--one of Ferdie's purchases, the volume on the Union Pacific Railway; and glancing languidly over its pages, sees a picture of Indians attacking a hand-car, and reads, "Elm Creek Massacre" in large type. Beneath it is an account of the heroism of Captain Harry Storey Lawrence. Then the brakeman cries out "Elm Creek." The train pauses for a moment, and gazing out, she can see the station house on the side track. A moment after, the locomotive dashing on again, she finds herself peering into the darkness that lies upon the low stretch of prairie, and wondering exactly whereabouts the man sitting so quietly and conversing with Mrs. Livingston, made his fight; and her imagination getting the better of her, she seems to see the stalwart figure, which is commencing to interest her, standing on a little hand-car on that lone prairie, surrounded by Indians and fighting them off, and saving the section men surprised at their work, as they drop their tools and run from their labor; and she sees his dark eyes, that she has commenced to know very well, flashing with determination as he encourages the fleeing laborers, and getting them on the car, they make their running fight towards the station, and hears the cracking of the deadly rifles and the whoops of the pursuing savages.