CHAPTER XXIX.
A DAY OF REST.
Early the next morning Henry and Richmond were on a train, speeding away from the roar, the clang, the turmoil, the smoke, the atmospheric streams of stench, the trouble of the city.

They saw a funeral procession, and Richmond remarked: "They have killed a drone and are dragging him out of the hive, and as they have set out so early they must be going to pay him the compliment of a long haul." They passed stations where men who had spent a quiet night at home paced up and down impatiently waiting for a train to whirl them back to their daily strife.

"They play cards going in and coming out," said Richmond, "but at noon they are eager to cut one another's throats." They ran through a forest, dense and wild-looking, but in the wildness there was a touch of man's deceiving art.

They crossed a small river and caught sight of a barefooted boy trying to steal a boat.

They sped over the prairie and flew past an old Dutch windmill.