"Jim Carston! Jim Carston!" The name rang through the place, and the toast was drunk with enthusiasm. In the midst of it all the centre door was thrown open and the conductor’s big voice bawled: "All passengers for the Overland Limited—all aboard!" *CHAPTER XVII* The tooting and whistling of the train began. The men filed outside. In the crush Cash Hawkins, who had been drinking steadily until he was now in a decided state of inebriation, slunk down to the other end of the platform. Henry and Sir John assisted Diana to the car. The cow-boys swarmed along the platform—Jim alone stood in the deserted saloon. Before he was aware of what was happening—that the train was about to carry away this tie of his former life—he heard Diana’s voice call "Jim." She slipped from the lower step on which she stood and ran towards him. "Diana!" He seized her out-stretched hands—he must say something to her, but she would not let him speak. "I shall always thank God for this day, Jim, I couldn’t believe you were—I never have. Now I know the sacrifices you have made for me—now I know I have the right to ask God to bless you and keep you and make you happy." Her voice broke; tears were falling on his hand. Lady Elizabeth or Henry would never discuss the cause of Jim’s departure. She had always persistently defended him to the world, and to-day her intuition had told her that for her sake Jim had shielded his cousin—her husband! How could she accept it? "And you, Diana—tell me you are happy." "Happy?" Her eyes told him that it was only possible for her to be happy now that she knew the truth. "I sha’n’t mind the future now so terribly, because I can respect somebody." Dan passed the open door. "All aboard, lady," he briskly called. "Good-bye, Jim. God bless you!" She felt herself being helped aboard by Dan; she tried to wave her hand to Jim. The car moved, the whistling and ringing of the bell told of their departure. It was Henry who led her to a chair and left her there. That day he paid in full for his life’s misdeeds. Jim never attempted to see the receding car; he could hear the noise of the departing train and the cries of the boys as they hooted their good-byes. "Kiss the baby for me." It was big Bill’s voice. "What a baby Bill is himself!" Jim found himself saying. "Tell Sadie to write," called Shorty. "Und say—say for me too, you bet." The voice of the German was drowned in the roar from the rest of the boys. Only Grouchy, in silence, looked on contemptuously.