He was leaving behind Pendleton and all that he had known.

In the day the excitement, the cold air, and the free world about him had kept him up.

Now the swaying and jarring of the train, crude like most others in that early time of railways, gave him a sense of illness.

The window at his elbow rattled incessantly, and the ashes and cinders sifted in, blackening his face and hands.

Three or four smoking lamps, hung from the ceiling, lighted the car dimly, and disclosed but partly the faces of the people around him.