Allan, left to himself, made a careful inspection of the caboose, but search as he might, he could find nothing that shed the slightest light upon the disappearance of the train crew. It was evident that there had been no struggle of any kind. He found the conductor’s report made up ready to turn in at the end of the trip, and his lantern and dinner-pail on the floor near the door. The more he examined the surroundings the plainer it was that when the conductor and brakeman left the caboose, they had expected to return to it in a minute or two. And that they had left it only a short time before was evident from the fact that the fire in their stove had just been renewed and was burning briskly. He gave up the problem, at last, and getting a fusee out of the box where they were kept, he stepped out upon the rear platform. As he did so, he heard the cars of the train buckling toward him, and an instant later the caboose caught the motion and started slowly up the track toward Schooley’s. The mile was soon covered, and the train, coming to a stop just outside the little town, was run in on a siding, while the flyer proceeded on to the station. There Allan reported it, secured orders for it, and sent it on its way. Then he proceeded to try to solve the mystery of the abandoned freight train. But there was little or nothing to be learned concerning it more than he already knew. It had passed through Schooley’s without stopping, and the operator there had observed nothing wrong with it. After half an hour’s inquiry, Allan gave it up, ordered another crew sent out from Wadsworth, and finally, after reporting the occurrence to Stanley, turned in at his own gate about midnight, very tired and not a little worried. As he entered the house, he was surprised to see a light burning in the dining-room, and he opened the door softly and looked in. For a moment, he saw no one, and thinking that the room was empty and that the light had simply been left burning for him, he was about to turn it out, when his eyes fell upon a figure curled up on the lounge which stood against the wall under the windows. “Why, it’s Mamie!” he said, half to himself, and took a step toward her. “I wonder—” And then he stopped suddenly, for, awakened by the noise of his entrance or by the consciousness of his presence, she opened her eyes and looked at him. For a moment, she lay so, looking up, her lips parted in a smile. Then, with a quick movement, she brushed her hand over her eyes and sat upright, her cheeks crimson with a strange confusion. “Why, Allan!” she cried. “Do you know, I—I must have been asleep!” “Yes,” he agreed, laughing. “I don’t think there’s any doubt of it. Since when have you taken to sleeping on this lounge?” “I wasn’t at all sleepy to-night,” Mamie explained, “and I knew it wasn’t any use to go to bed, so I thought I’d read awhile till I got sleepy or till you—till you—”