She breathed more quickly; a soft glow coloured her cheeks; her eyes grew more deeply violet as they caught the reflection of the blue sky.

A gentle wind fretted the loose tendrils of brown hair about her face.

And the bearded man, staring through the car window, saw her thus, and for an hour after that the hollow-cheeked girl wondered at the strange change in him.
The train had stopped at the edge of the big fill overlooking the Flats.

It was a heavy train, and a train that was helping to make history--a combination of freight, passenger, and "cattle." It had averaged eight miles an hour on its climb toward Yellowhead Pass and the end of steel.

The "cattle" had already surged from their stifling and foul-smelling cars in a noisy inundation of curiously mixed humanity.