Their trunks were being tumbled off a car far ahead.
Then the whistle screamed, the train gave a jerk and proceeded on its way, and Uncle John, his nieces and their maid, found themselves confronting a solitary man in shirtsleeves, who yawned languidly, thrust his hands in his pockets and stared at the strangers unmoved.
It was six o'clock.

The July sun was set in a clear sky, but the air was cool and pleasant.

Uncle John glanced around with the eye of a practiced traveler.

Back of the station was a huddle of frame buildings set in a hollow.

The station-tender was the only person in sight.
"Isn't there a carriage to meet us ?" asked Louise, in a slightly frigid tone.
"Seems not," replied her uncle.