to run and couldn't help it. And half a
mile farther we saw a man coming slowly; and who was it but dear old
Tom Carr!

I think I never was so glad to see anybody in my life. The poor fellow
was so weak that he could hardly stand, but he was making a start for
Track's End.

"Jud," he said, "we started out Wednesday, with a dozen passengers, as
many shovelers, and three days' food. We got to No. 15 Saturday. Then
the storm came and the food was about all gone. Yesterday the storm
kept up and the men could have done nothing even if they had had food.
This morning they are at it, but they are so weak that they can't do
much, but with what you've got on your sled we'll get through."

He went back with me, and there were Burrdock and Sours and Allenham
and some others, all shoveling at the cut with the men; and in the car
was Mr. Clerkinwell, now recovered from his sickness, but weak from
the lack of food. I won't try to tell how glad they were to see me;
but I was gladder to see them. I felt that I was out of the prison of
Track's End at last; and so many times I had thought I never should
get out alive!

"And why didn't you die a thousand times from loneliness," cried Mr.
Clerkinwell, after he had talked a few minutes, "if from no other
cause?"

"Oh," I answered, "I had some company, you know; then there were
callers, too, once in a while." Then I said to him that "I wrote every
Sunday to my mother," at the which he patted me on the head, just as
if I weren't taller than he!

The men all came in and we got up a sort of a meal; at least there was
plenty of coffee, bacon, and beans. Then they went at the shoveling
again, the engineer got up steam, and soon we left the short platform
and little cube of a house at the siding behind. There was a snow-plow
on the engine, and the men now worked with so much energy that we
bucked along through the cuts, and before sundown were at Track's End.
So, on Monday, March 21st, the train which had gone away on Friday,
December 17th, was back again, with a long whistle and a cheer from
every man, and barks from Kaiser which lasted longer than all.

I had told part of my story, and we all went over to the Headquarters
House, Allenham to arrest Pike. He was gone. The barn had been broken
open that morning and one of his ponies taken out. How he ever did it
with his broken leg was more than any of us could tell, but he had
done it, and it seemed no use to try to follow him. I saw my mistake
in telling him so much; but it was too late to remedy it.

The next day another train came, bringing a whole crowd of
Track's-Enders; and that night they held a little meeting at the hotel
and were for giving me a reward for what I had done (which was no more
than I had been left to do); but I told them, No, that Mr. Sours had
paid me my wages according to agreement and that I couldn't take any
reward; but when Mr. Clerkinwell got up and took off his watch and
chain (gold they were, you may be sure) and said I must take that
whether or no, so that when I "looked for the time o' day I would
always remember that a townful of people, and especially a certain old
gentleman, thanked me and did not forget what I had done"--when Mr.
Clerkinwell did this, I say, and I guess there were tears in his eyes,
what could I do but take it? and take it I did, and wear it to this
day.

[Illustration: MR. CLERKINWELL GIVING ME HIS WATCH AND CHAIN]

Mr. Clerkinwell told me afterward that there was a full $20,000 in the
safe.

So that is all there is to tell of my strange winter at Track's End,
so many years ago. Three days later the regular trains began to run,
and the first one took all of my letters to my mother; and no more
than two days after she got them I was there myself, bringing only
one important thing more than I had taken away (besides experience),
and that was Kaiser. I had asked for him and got him; first I had
thought to take away Pawsy, too, but concluded to leave her with Mrs.
Sours, where she could get on the door in case of trouble. And since,
though I have done my share of wandering about the world (and perhaps
a little more than my share), I have never again visited Track's End;
nor do I think I want to go back where the wolves howled so many
dismal nights, and where the other things were worse than the wolves.