Clover now watched their antics with great amusement from her window as their engineers ran them in and out, rubbed them down like horses, and fed them with oil and coal, while they snorted and backed and sidled a good deal as real horses do.

Clover could not at all understand what all these manoeuvres were for,--they seemed only designed to show the paces of the iron steeds, and what they were good for.
"Miss Clover," whispered a voice outside her curtains, "I've got hold of a hand-car and a couple of men; and don't you want to take a spin down the canyon and see the view with no smoke to spoil it?
Just you and me and Miss Chase.

She says she'll go if you will.

Hurry, and don't make a noise.
We won't wake the others." Of course Clover wanted to.

She finished her dressing at top-speed, hurried on her hat and jacket, stole softly out to where the others awaited her, and in five minutes they were smoothly running down the gorge, over high trestle-work bridges and round sharp curves which made her draw her breath a little faster.