They were approaching St. Marys, and, coming out of the dining car with Elsie, he steadied her to their seat. Night was drawing on, but the car remained unlighted, and simultaneously they noticed a man sitting across the aisle, staring intently out of the window. Something familiar in the figure caught their attention. "It's Mr. Clark," he whispered to his wife. She glanced across, and her fingers tightened on his arm. "Don't speak to him, Jim." "Why?" "Look at him, can't you see?" Belding looked, Clark was absolutely motionless, and had not changed a fraction in two years. The train moved on, till it halted for a few moments on the great bridge. The air was cool and full of the deep roar of the rapids, and the car vibrated delicately with the huge steel girders on which it rested. Two hundred feet away came the first, smooth dip that Belding would always remember. Immediately beneath, he had slid into the chaos further on. The two young people did not stir, but watched the silent observer. Against the window they caught the dominant nose, the clean cut, powerful chin, the aggressive contour of head and shoulders. Clark was leaning forward, his gaze exploring the well remembered scene. "Don't disturb him," whispered Elsie again. Her husband pressed her hand, and they waited, wondering what thoughts were passing through that marvelous brain. He was staring at the works. It was all his--this dream come true; this vision portrayed in steel and stone. Out of nothing but water and wood and his own superb faith he had created it, only to see this exemplification of himself slip from his own hands into those of others, who had sponsored neither its birth nor its magnificent development. What portion of his leader, pondered the engineer, had been incorporated in those vast foundations--and what had life left in store to replace them for him? The train was moving on, when Clark, turning suddenly, smiled and held out his hand. "Glad to see you both, if only for a minute. I'm on my way back to Russia, where I'm carrying out large improvements for the government--been there for the last year. By the way, Belding, did you notice that old, crooked birch beside the rapids? A big, fat kingfisher used to live there--we knew each other well." CONCLUSION The sumac leaves, which through the summer months tapped delicately at my study window, have turned a vivid scarlet, and one by one have fluttered to the ground. Here, by the mysterious process of nature, they will be incorporated with the rich soil, to nourish some other life that will later climb sunward. But in that life no one shall recognize a sumac leaf.