TO THE FEATHER RIVER COUNTRY AND FREEDOM In the chair car, where he plumped himself into a seat just as the train began to creep forward, Jack pulled his hat down over his eyebrows and wondered if any one had recognized him while he was getting on the train.

He could not tell, because he had not dared to seem anxious about it, and so had not looked around him.

At any rate he had not been stopped, though the police could wire ahead and have him dragged off the train at any station they pleased.

Panic once more caught him and he did not dare look up when the conductor came for his ticket, but held his breath until the gloomy, haggard-faced man had tagged him and passed on.

Until the train had passed Newhall and was rattling across the flat country to the coast, he shivered when any one passed down the aisle.
Beyond San Francisco lay the fog bank of the unknown.