"I do not know all things," he replied finally. "Only I have laid all day on the ground near the trail. I know the hour when the iron carriage passes over it. The walk is a long one, but if you will follow me, I will take you there. I will come for you to-night just before the dawn breaks. When you hear an owl hoot, you will know that Carlos is outside your door. You will creep softly, so that we may have several hours before old Laska wakes. I will bring food and the skins of many wild rabbits that I have sewed together in the evenings, that you may not freeze." CHAPTER XXI. THE WAY OF ESCAPE. IN the darkness Olive kept tight hold of Carlos' hand. They ran swiftly and softly, like frightened hares, each moment dreading to hear footsteps behind them. But the darkness hid their tracks and a wind was blowing, which shifted the sand and whirled it into hills and hollows, so that not even an Indian could find the print of any passing foot. Besides, old Laska slept soundly and she had not stirred when Olive stole out from her tent. Carlos marched toward the east, where the sky looked less dark, until the cold dawn broke. Before the sun was well up the boy saw something glinting and glimmering ahead of them like a long steel serpent. He gave a cry of victory. Breaking away from Olive, Carlos ran ahead. For a moment he stood balancing himself on the track rails, waving his thin brown arms and crowing like a young chanticler. "We will rest here by the iron trail," he announced happily. "I will build a fire and we will eat. By and by the great wagon will pass by, roaring and snorting like an angry buffalo. It will take you with it." For a moment the boy's face clouded. Then, as Olive reached his side, he laughed at the thought of her joy. "But, Carlos," Olive whispered. She was weary and almost frozen from her long tramp across the plains. "You have brought me to the railroad track, but where is the station? Did you not know that the white man's trains will not stop unless there is a little house set up by a wooden platform, where a man at a window sells you small squares of paper?" Carlos shook his head in confusion. He had no idea what Olive was talking about, for he had never seen a railroad depot in the twelve years of his wandering life. But he saw Olive's disappointment and knew that something in his beautiful plan for his friend was wrong. "Never you mind, girl," Carlos insisted, shaking his straight, black hair, like a little foreign king, "I will see that the wagon stops for you here, where we wait." Olive dropped down on the ground, too tired to argue or to explain any further. Carlos ran along the track, finding a few odd sticks and pieces of wood. He made a little fire, into which he stuck one long stick, like a staff, which he had carried from the camp; but he saw that only the end of it burned.