haven't a relative in the world, except Cousin Evelyn. Besides, I—I don't see how I can ever stand it, anyway!" Her fretted voice broke, quivering. Mindful of Rod's boyish hatred of sentiment, she gulped back the sob in her throat; but her weak hand clutched his sleeve. "There are only the two of us, Rod, and we've never been separated in all our lives. Not even for a single week. I—I can't let you go away out there and leave me behind."

Now, on nine occasions out of ten, Slow-Coach was Rod's fitting title. This was the tenth time. He stooped over Marian, his black eyes flashing. His big hand caught her trembling fingers tight.

"That will just do, Sis. Stop your forebodings, you precious old 'fraid-cat. I'm going to pack you up and take you right straight along."

"Why, Roderick Thayer Hallowell!"

Marian gasped. She stared up at her brother, wide-eyed.

"Why, I couldn't possibly go with you. It's absurd. I daren't even think of it."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's such a queer, wild place. And it is so horribly far away. And I'm not strong enough for roughing it."

"Nonsense. Illinois isn't a frontier. It's only two days' travel from Boston. As for roughing it, think of the Vermont farm-houses where we've stayed on fishing trips. Remember the smothery feather-beds, and the ice-cold pickled beets and pie for breakfast? Darkest Illinois can't be worse than that."

"N-no, I should hope not. But it will be so tedious and dull!"

"Didn't the doctor order you to spend a dull summer? Didn't he prescribe bread and milk and sleep?"

"Rod, I won't go. I can't. I'd be perfectly miserable. There, now!"

Roderick gave her a long, grave look.

"Then I may as well write and decline the Breckenridge offer, Sis. For I'll take you with me, or else stay here with you. That's all."

"Rod, you're so contrary!" Marian's lips quivered. "You must go West. I won't have you stay here and drudge forever at office work. You must not throw away this splendid chance. It isn't possible!"

"It isn't possible for me to do anything else, Sis." Roderick's stolid face settled into granite lines. Marian started at the new ring of authority in his voice. "Haven't you just said that you couldn't stand it to be left behind? Well, I—I'm in the same boat. I can't go off and leave you, Sis. I won't run the chances of your being sick, or lonely, while I'm a thousand miles away. So you'll have to decide for us both. Either you go with me, or else I stay here and drudge forever, as you call it. For I'd rather drudge forever than face that separation. That's all. Run along to bed now, that's a good girl. You'll need plenty of sleep if you are to start for Illinois with me next week. Good-night."

"Well, but Rod——"

"Run along, I say. Take Empress with you. I want to answer this letter, and she keeps purring like a buzz-saw, and sharpening her claws on my shoes, till I can't think straight."

"But, Rod, you don't understand!" Marian caught his arm. Her eyes brimmed with angry tears. "I don't want to go West. I'll hate it. I know I shall. I want to stay here, where I can be with my friends, where I can have a little fun. It's not fair to make me go with you!"

"Oh, I understand, all right." Roderick's eyes darkened. "You will not like the West. You'll not be contented. I know that. But, remember, I'm taking this job for both of us, Sis. We're partners, you know. I wish you could realize that." His voice grew a little wistful. "If you'd be willing to play up——"

"Oh, I'll play up, of course." Marian put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a pettish kiss. "And I'll go West with you. Though I'd rather go to Moscow or the Sahara. Come, Empress! Good-night, Rod."

The door closed behind her quick, impatient step. Roderick sat down at his desk and opened his portfolio. He did not begin to write at once. Instead, he sat staring at the letter in his hand. He was a slow, plodding boy; he was not given to dreaming; but to-night, as he sat there, his sober young face lighted with eager fire. Certain phrases of that magical letter seemed to float and gleam before his eyes.

—"'A splendid undertaking ... heavy, responsible work, but a man's work, and a man's game.... This is your fighting chance. If you can make good.... And I expect to see you equal to its heaviest demands.'"

Rod's deep eyes kindled slowly.

"I'll make good, all right," he muttered. His strong hand clinched on the folded sheet. "It's my fighting chance. And if I can't win out, with such an opportunity as this one—then I'll take my name off the Engineering Record roster and buy me a pick and a shovel!"

CHAPTER II
TRAVELLERS THREE

"Ready, Marian? The Limited starts in thirty minutes. We haven't a minute to spare."

"Y-yes." Marian caught up her handbag and hurried into the cab. "Only my trunk keys—I'm not sure——"

"Your trunk keys! You haven't lost them, of all things!"

"No. Here they are, safe in my bag. But Empress has been so frenzied I haven't known which way to turn."

Poor insulted Empress, squirming madly in a wicker basket, glared at Rod, and lifted a wild, despairing yowl.

"You don't propose to leave Mount Vernon Street for the wilds of Illinois without a struggle, do you, Empress?" chuckled Rod. "Never you mind. You'll forget your blue silk cushion and your minced steak and cream, and you'll be chasing plebeian chipmunks in a week. Look at the river, Marian. You won't see it again in a long while."

Marian followed his glance. It was a silver hoar-frost morning. The sky shone a cloudless blue, the cold, delicious air sparkled, diamond-clear. Straight down Mount Vernon Street the exquisite little panel of the frozen Charles gleamed like a vista of fairyland. Marian stared at it a little wistfully.

"It will all be very different out West, I suppose. I wonder if any Western river can be half as lovely," she pondered.

Roderick did not answer. A sudden worried question stirred in his thought. Yes, the West would be "different." Very different.

"Maybe I've done the worst possible thing in dragging Marian along," he thought. "But it's too late to turn back now. I can only hope that she can stand the change, and that she'll try to be patient and contented."

Marian, on her part, was in high spirits. She had been shut up for so long that to find herself free, and starting on this trip to a new country, delighted her beyond bounds. At South Station, a crowd of her Wellesley chums stormed down upon her, in what Rod described later as a mass-play, laden with roses and chocolates and gay, loving farewells. Marian tore herself from their hands, half-laughing, half-crying with happy excitement.

"Oh, Rod, I know we're going to have the grandest trip, and the most beautiful good fortunes that ever were!" she cried, as he put her carefully aboard the train. "But you aren't one bit enthusiastic. You stodgy tortoise, why can't you be pleased, too?"

"I'm only too glad if you like the prospect, Sis," he answered soberly.

Marian's spirits soared even higher as the hours passed. Roderick grew as rapt as she when the train whirled through the winter glory of the Berkshires. Every slope rose folded in dazzling snow. Every tree, through mile on mile of forest, blazed in rainbow coats of icy mail. The wide rolling New York country was scarcely less beautiful.

At Buffalo, the next morning, a special pleasure awaited them. A party of friends met them with a huge touring car, and carried