t RHODA'S S
(! !j
* SECRET I
I
By SYLVJA CHESTER i
►: i\
CHAPTER I.
It was a February morning In
Paris. The sun was shining bril
liantly in a clear sky, and the streets
and boulevards were crowded.
Rhoda Dering found some diffi
culty in making her way, and the
servant with her kept up a ceaseless
flow of grumblings as she toiled
along with a heavy basket. Rhoda
paid no heed to her servant's words.
She walked as quickly as possible,
and she appeared as unconscious of
the admiring eyes that followed her
as of the servant's discontent.
At last they reached a house In
one of the smaller streets. Rhoda
took a key and a letter from the
concierge and led the way up the
long flights of stone stairs. It was
nearly at the top of the house that
she stopped and unlocked the door
that gave access to a small suite of
rooms.
The little salon was gaudily fur
nished, the crimson velvet of the
chairs and sofa was faded, the walls
and ceiling were In sad need of re
painting; it was &. dreary room,
without a touch of beauty or refine
ment about it. On the marble
topped table before the window
there were two candlesticks, with
the candles half burned down, and a
pack of cards.
Rhoda took off her hat without
looking at the maid.
"You had better make haste and
get luncheon ready. I will dust the
room," she said, in cool high tones.
It was a characteristic voice, strong
and clear, but curiously hard.
The woman put down the basket
with a thump on one of the chairs.
"I'll cook no more meals in this
I>lace!" she exclaimed, in shrill
tones. "Pay me my wages! You can
do for yourself for the future; I'll
do no more for you!"
"You know quite well that I can
not pay you your wages, and, until
you get them, you must stay here,"
answered Rhoda, calmly. "Paris is
no place for you to live in without
money."
"Where's my money, then? Give
me my money."
"You shall have it when I have it
to give to you. You may be quite
certain that I shall get rid of you on
the first opportunity."
"Money that's obtained by cheat
ing at cards Is pretty sort of money
to give to an honest girl! Oh, you
think I know nothing. Miss Dering!
You thought you would like a stupid
English country girl who couldn't
understand what it's all about; but
I know what you are and your father
too, and I want my money!"
"I agree with you that it was a
great mistake that we hired you,"
returned Rhoda, without looking at
the servant. She was standing by
the mantelpiece, looking at the let
ter the concierge had given to her.
She put it down and slightly turned
towards the girl. "Kindly carry that
basket away and bring me a
duster."
"When am I to have my wages?"
said the girl sullenly, without mov
ing.
"You shall have them when I
have the money. Go and get the
luncheon ready."
The servant took up the basket
and then put It down and burst Into
tears.
"If you'd give me a kind word.
Miss Derlng, now and then, I
wouldn't mind; but I can't stand it
and I won't stand it! And I hate
your father and that Monsieur Le
froy, and it isn't a place for a re
spectable girl to be in!"
Rhoda looked at the girl gravely.
"Do you remember where I met
you?" she said.
The servant's sobs sounded louder.
"I was all that lady's fault! She
promised me a good situation if I
came to Paris with her, and then, a
month after, she gave me notice!"
"Do you ever think what might
have happened to you if I had not
met you that evening? Paris is no
place for an ignorant girl to be
alone in."
"I want togo back to England,"
muttered the girl sullenly.
"You shall go back as soon as I
can pay your fare; I am as anxious
to get rid of you as you can be to
go!" Rhoda answered sharply.
"Now go away with that basket!"
The girl, still sobbing loudly, car
ried the basket into the inner room,
and Rhoda took up the letter again.
It was addresesd to her father, with
an English postmark, and many for
eign postmarks showed that it had
been following them about.
Rhoda was still looking at the let
ter when a footstep sounded outside
and her father came in. He was like
Rhoda, tall and slight, with a pale
handsome face. His hair was still
black, and he would have looked a
young man still but for the haggard
lines on his face. Rhoda held out
the letter without Bpeaking. Her
father took it carelessly, but his face
changed as he saw the handwriting.
"My brother at last!" he said
quickly, breaking the seal. "Well,
I thought my last letter would fetch
him."
He read the letter, and then, with
a laugh flung it to Rhoda.
"Read it, my girl. It concerns you
more than me.'
The letter was written in a small.
formal hand. There was a crest on
the top of the thick white note pa
per, and the motto "Hold truth
dear."
Rhoda read:
Dear Arthur: I have carefully read
your letter about your girl, and I
see the force of what you say. You
tell me she has been educated In a
convent, but is still a Protestant. I
am glad to hear that this is so. I
thoroughly agree with you that your
life is not one that should be shared
by an Innocent girl. My first thought
was to suggest to you that you should
get her a home in some respectable
English family, but my wife wishes
her to come here. My own daugh
ter is just eighteen; Rhoda will be
able to help her with French and
music. You say she is proficient in
both. Of course it is quite under
stood between us that any communi
cation on your part with Rhoda will
lead at once to her losing the home
I offer her.
I am yours, etc.
George Derlng.
"A pleasant letter from a brother
to a brother, eh, Rhoda?" said Mr.
Derlng, as Rhoda folded the letter
and placed it upon the mantelpiece.
"When does he think that I left
the convent?" she asked.
"That's the joke of It, my dear.
He thinks you are still there —that
you have been there since your
mother died, twelve years ago."
"That means that you told him
so."—
"Exactly."
"Why?"
Mr. Dering had seated himself
upon a chair by the window, and
Rhoda turned towards him to ask
the question.
"If I had told him you left the
convent two years ago, do you think
you would have received that lnvi
tion?"
"Do you wish me to accept It?"
"By Jove, I do! Look here,
Rhoda, you are a clever girl and a
handsome girl. I want you back at
Derlng; things are pretty well
played out here. You see what our
luck is, and how our funds stand. I
intend you to make your fortune at
Dering."
"As a governess to my uncle's
daughter?"
"Well, not exactly like that. Do
you remember what I told you of
your aunt Millicent?"
"Of course."
"Well, she's at Dering. Platter
her little weaknesses, my dear, and
get your name down In her will.
That's one way of making your for
tune."
"She is not much older than you,"
returned Rhoda.
"Not much, certainly. But that's
only one way out of the wood for
you, though. You can make a good
marriage, Rhoda."
"Yes, there is that to think of,"
the girl answered quietly. She
|>aused a moment, and then said, "I
suppose you dwelt upon the Impos
sibility of my living with you?"
"Exactly. I used two colors only
in my letter —white for you, black
for myself; a lamb and a wolf. You
were leaving the peacoful shelter of
the convent, what was I to do v ith
you? All this, and more, I said. The
letter went, and voila!" He waved
his hand towards the answer. "The
first attack has been crowned with
victory, Rhoda, my girl. Now it is
your turn. Mere Amelie will re
ceive you for a week or so. Write
from the convent an answer to that
letter. Say how glad you will be to
embrace your dear relatives, scatter
a few French expressions over 'the
pages, talk of your happy convent
life and the dear nuns. Avoid all
reference to me. Then oft you goto
Derlng under some safe escort; get
under the same roof with my dear
sister, Millicent, and in a month my
clever daughter will be first on her
list of favorites. Then will come a
season In town, a brilliant marriage,
and then —why, then you can think
of your old father."
"An alluring prospect," said
Rhoda, with a bitter smile.
"It's a perfectly safe thing, my
dear. I should like to bet on it."
"The cards are more against us
than you realize," the girl answered.
"How am I to play the part of a
girl fresh from a convent? I have
lived with you for two years."
"I have all your convent letters to
me, my dear; you shall read them
and take them with you. Then re
call what you were like two years
ago—what a truthful. Innocent,
Bweet-faced little maid you were'"
A look of intense bitterness passed
over Rhoda's face. She did not
speak, but she took up her uncle's
letter again and read it through.
Her father watched her, drumming
with his fingers on the table beside
him.
"It's our only chance, Rhoda," he
said, after a moment. "I am played
out, and it's time I left Paris. I
didn't llkelthe looks of Marche and
Lisle at all this morning; I believe
they suspected something last
night."
"I am sure they did," Rhoda in
terpolated quietly.
"I must be off to Monte Carlo,"
Mr. Derlng continued, "and Lefroy
is going with me. You know you
hate going there."
"I do not intend togo," the girl
answered. "I am going to England
.—to Derlng!"
Mr. Derlng jumped up, struck his
hands together, and a 16ok of great
relief passed over his face.
"That's a good girl! The fact is,
Rhoda, I couldn't take you to Monte
Carlo this time! We shall be a low
lot, and I must keep you out of it
somehow!"
"I have never had a chance," the
girl said, half to herself. "Why
shouldn't I take this chance?"
"You would be a goose If you did
not take It, my dear! All you have
to do Is to forget the past two years
of your life and be a little convent
maid again!"
"Yes; that is all I have to do,"
she returned' with a bitter smile.
She took up her hat and gloves. "I
must look after the luncheons." she
said. "Sarah Is clamoring for her
wages again!"
"Confound the girl! What on
earth made you have that girl,
Rhoda? Celine was worth twenty
of her!"
'Celine —was Celine!" said Rhoda,
with a bitter smile.
Mr. Dering shrugged his shoul
ders.
"Let us hope the time Is coming
when you can afford to be particu
lar, Rhoda. Lefroy is coming to
lunch."
"You can hardly call me particu
lar," the girl said. "I sit at the ta
ble with M. Lefroy!"
Mr. Dering took out a cigar and
began to light It as he answered:
"If you were not going to Dering,
you would have another proposal
made to you, Rhoda."
"Pray of what kind?"
"From M. Lefroy."
Rhoda turned with a sudden look
of Intense scorn on her dark face.
Her father laughed.
"You are going to Dering, my
dear, or I should have advised you
to accept it.l owe Lefroy five thou
sand francs."
"You know I hate him."
"But you must have married him,
my dear, If you had not gone to
Dering!"
"Never!"
"Well, we need not discuss it. You
see we are agreed about my little
plan. By the bye," he added, as
Rhoda moved towards the door,
"how old arc you, Rhoda?"
"You know."
"But you do not, my dear; you are
twenty. I took leave to alter your
age by two years. No woman can
object to be two years younger than
she is!" ,
Rhoda turned back into the room
and shut the door. She sat down
by her father and laid her hand
upon his arm.
"Father, I do not think I can do
it. I shall not be able to my
part. Write, or let me write, nnd
tell uncle George the truth. Tell
him that I huve shared your life for
these years. He cannot refuse to
have me even if he knows the
truth!" *
Mr. Dering laid down his cigar
and put his hand over hers.
"My dear," he said. In a very gen
tle tone, "I have been a reckless and
careless father to you, and I want
you to have this one chance. I know
Dering; I want you know it. You
say, tell George the truth. How is
it possible? Look the truth in the
face, Rhoda. I have been a gambler
and a cheat. You have known this,
and you have lived with me for two
years. That one thing would cut
you off for ever from Dering If it
were known."
Rhoda said nothing.
"When you came back from the
convent," her father went on after a
pause, "I meant to reform —I tried
to do it—you know I did, Rhoda.
But It was of no use. We have been
good comrades and friends, my flrl,
but the time has come for us to part.
I am in Lefroy's power to some ex
tent, and he and I are going to be
partners for the future. If you stay
with me, you must marry him,
Rhoda."
"Cannot we go away together—
go to the colonies —anywhere—and
begin a new life?"
"We threshed out that question
long ago, Rhoda. No, my dear; do a
little for a great good. Goto Dering
—it Is your rightful home—and try
your luck there. Only understand
this, Rhoda—the invitation is given
to you as you were two years ago.
The least hint of the truth would
close the doors of Dering to you for
ever!"
Rhoda's face hardened and her
lips grew stern.
"Yes, you are right to blame me,"
Mr. Dering went on as he watched
her face. "I ought never to have
brought you into my life. But I
knew I could take care of you—and
I have taken care of you—now
haven't I, Rhoda?"
"Yet you say that they would turn
me out of Dering if they knew the
truth!"
"They would certainly turn you
out of Dering if they knew that you
had lived with me for two years!"
he answered emphatically. "But
they do not know —they never will
know!"
Rhoda rose from her seat.
"They shall not know," she said.
She paused for a moment and then
slowly left the room. '
Mr. Dering took up his cigar again
and smoked for a little while. But
presently he laid It down again and
sat looking before him with a heavy
frown on hi; brow. Once or twice
he gave a hopeless sigh. His face
looked very worn and haggard In
the morning light. He was still sit
ting there when a tap came at the
door. It opened before Mr. Dering
could speak, and a slim, dark man
entered —a man a few years younger
than Mr. Dering, with the same hag
gard lines round his eyes. He had a
thin hawklike face and a pair of
wonderful black eyes.
"I am early," he said in excellent
English. "But I knew I might take
that liberty."
"Come in, come In!" said Mr.
Dering without rising. "Luncheon
will be ready soon."
The visitor sat down on the chair
by the table and glanced at the let
ter lying there. ■
"An English letter, mon amilj
Now, I was not aware that you keptl
up correspondence with any English
friends."
"Weren't you?" returned Mr. Der
ing shortly.
"A lawyer perhaps? They are
▼ery troublesome correspondents,
those lawyers."
"A letter from my brother
George," the other answered, with a
glance at the Frenchman's face.
"An Invitation to Rhoda."
M. Lefroy raised his eyebrows
slightly.
"Are we on such terms with our
brother? I congratulate you, my
friend Dering."
"Thank you! Rhoda Is going al
most at once.
There was silence for a moitient.
Then M. Lefroy said carelessly:
"A long visit?"
"A life long visit in all probabil
ity. Rhoda will live in England in
future."
There was another silence. Mr.
Dering watched the Frenchman's
face furtively, but it told him little.
M. Lefroy spoke first.
"I had the honor a few days ago,
to make certain proposals to you.
Did I express myself clearly on that
occasion?"
"Quite clearly, my friend."
"Then why does mademoiselle go
to England? Am I to understand—"
"You are to understand, my dear
Lefroy, that I feel very deeply the
honor of the alliance you propose,
but it cannot be."
"And why?"
Mr. Dering shrugged his shoul
ders.
"A girl has fancies about such
things. I wish Rhoda to chose for
herself; and.to speak quite frankly,
my friend, she does not choose you."
"But you give me no chance. 1
hoped that in this journey to
gether—"
Mr. Dering interrupted the
Frenchman sharply.
"It's out of the question! Take
your answer, Lefroy. You and I go
alone. Your marriage with my
daughter is utterly out of the ques
tion.
The Frenchman drew back in his
chair with a sudden jerk. It was
the only sign he showed that the
words had moved him. There was a
deadly calmness in his tone and
manner as he answered.
"You speak strongly, mon ami.
Have you looked at tho game thor
oughly.
"I know your cards. Play them
all. Do your worst."
"You are excited, too much ex
cited. Allow me to withdraw from
my position. I congratulate made
moiselle on her good fortune. You
have a very good brother, my dear
friend."
He got up as the door opened be
hind him and stepped forward to
meet Rhoda.
"I have just heard the good news,
mademoiselle," he said, with a low
bow. "You leave us desolate; but an
English home Is to be made glad by
our loss. I congratulate that Eng
lish home."
"Thank you, Monsieur Lefroy!"
Rhoda returned, with a slight bow.
"I am glad togo to England."
"How glad England will be to re
ceive you! How thrice fortunate
your uncle's happy family! You will
be able to enliven the long winter
evenings, mademoiselle, by long
tales of your travels."
"Rhoda is taking notes for that
purpose," her father broke in. She
will have many stories to tell them
all."
"I am surprised," M. Lefroy went
on. "Forgive me, mademoiselle, for
being so surprised; but I thought—"
"You see, Lefroy," Mr. Dering
again broke In, "what surprises you
is an old tale with us. They have
wanted Rhoda for years, but she
would not leave her father. I am
not invited to Dering. That might
surprise you indeed."
"They are very good and kind,
your English relatives. If I appear
Surprised, mademoiselle, it is that
you have waited so long."
"Your surprise is quite natural,
M. Lefroy," returned Rhoda quiet
ly. A scarlet spot of color had come
Into each cheek, and her eyes were
dark with anger, but her voice was
very calm. "Luncheon is ready,"
she added, turning away and ad
dressing her father. "Will you
come into the other room?"
"I had hoped so much that you
would come with us next week," the
Frenchman went on, drawing a step
nearer to her.
Mr. Dering glanced at them both
and then busied himself with his
cigar-case. M. Lefroy went on in a
lower tone.
"Can I not persuade you? Eng
land is cold; English people will not
understand you. Mademoiselle, I en
treat you, do not goto England!"
"England is my native country,"
Rhoda answered, meeting his pas
sionate gaze with cold steady eyes.
"I goto my own people, Monsieur
Lefroy. My father will join me soon,
I hope. I have no wish to leave
England again."
"You have no pity for the friends
you leave behind?"
"I have no friends. There is no
one In the world except my father
who has the right to claim that
title."
"Not your dear English friends?"
said Lefroy, with a low bow. "You
forgot them —your kind good Eng
lish relatives."
"I should have said, 'out of Eng
land,' " the girl returned.
"You do not fear any enemy?"
"I fear no one."
Lefroy bowed and crossed the
room to open the door for Rhoda.
As she passed, she looked straight at
him.
"I fear no one. Monsieur Lefroy,"
■he repeated steadily.
(To Be Continued.)
CHARLES H. TREAT DEAD
Former Treasurer of the United States
Succumbs to Attack In New York.
New York. .Turin I.— Charles Henry
Treat, until a few months ago treas
urer of the United States, to which po
sition he was appointed hy President
:HArue'j 'H trFAT
Roosevelt, died of apoplexy in his
apartments at the Hotel Victoria.
Mr. Treat was born in Frankfort,
Me., about sixty-eight years ago.
Among his ancestors were Robert
B?AHTED-fl RIDER AGENTS"
amp.e JLatcst Model "Iwincror" bicycle furnished by uj. Our agents everywhere are
(lakingr money fast. Write for full particulars ami special offer at once.
NO MONEY KKQI IKKI) until you receive and approve of your bicycle. We ship
to anyone, anywhere in the U. S. without a cent deposit in advance, Prepay freight , and
allow TEN I>A YS FKKE TKIAI.. during which time you may ritle the bicycle and
put it to any test vou wir.h If you are then not perfectly satisfied or do not wish to
keep the bicycle ship it back to us at our expense and you will not be out one cent.
■TAftTAPY PPICFQ furnish the highest grade bicycles it is .possible to make
• HVIVnI i niVbw at one small profit above actual factory co«. You save #lO
to $25 middlemen s profits by buying direct of us and have the manufacturer's guar
antee behind your bicycle. I>o NOT KUY a bicycle or a pair of tires from anyone
at any price until you receive our catalogues and learn our unheard of factory
Prices and remarkable special offers to rider a^ontH.
VAII Mill I RF n w hen >' ou receive our beautiful catalogue and
Willi WILL DC MdlUnldnCll study our superb models at the •wonderfully
low Prices we can make you this year. We sell the highest grade bicycles for less money
than any other factory. We are satisfied with SI.OO profit above factory cost.
BICYCLE DKALEKS, you can sell our bicycles under your own name plate at
nr prices. Orders filled the c'.ay received.
1> 11ANI) 151CYCLKS. We do not regularly handle second hand bicycles, but
a number on hand taken in trade by our Chicago retail stores. These we clear out
rices ranging from ©3 to or Descriptive bargain lists mailed free.
fIAJkeTPB PPAKCe slnsrlo wheels, imported roller elniln* and pedalii, parts, repairs and
vwHO I equipment of all kinds at half the usual retail prices.
*Oi£ HEDGETHORN PUNCTURE-PROOF >IBO
A SELF-HEALING TIRES TO WmDUGcfoNLr
The regular retail price of these i ires is
sell you a sample pa ir lors4.&o(.cash with order $4.55), 112
NO MORE TROUBLE FROM PUNCTURES |'lflPSl
nails. Tacks «»r Glass will not !«'t the . [\sf AwBI
air out. Sixty thousand pairs s« M In t vt nr. L, . IHfff
Over two hundred thousand pairs now in use. vu
DESCRIPTION! Made in all sizes. It islively H ' /
and easy i iding.verv durable a:nl liiud i:isi lew it h J
a special quality of rubber, which never becomes
porous ana which closes up small punctures without allow- ill
ing the air to escape. We hSve hundreds of letters frontalis- V U rabW twart
fiedcustomers ftatinp; that their tires have only been pumped \Jf , Vt P fi. ••
up once or twice in a whole season. They weigh no more than l| * nrevint rim outtlni Th'j
an ordinary tire, the puncture resisting qualities being given Xfl I. ® w |i| outlnHt anv'otlu'r
by several layers of thin specially prepared fabric on the V® „a aud
tread. The regular price of KVS VKllilNrt
advertising purposes we are making a special factory price to *
Ihe rider of only $4.80 per pair. All orders shipped same day letter is received. We shfp C. O. D. on
approval. You do not pay a cent until you have examined unci found them strictly as represented
We will allow a cash discount of 5 per cent (thereby making the price AM.sft per pair) if you
send FULL CASH WITH ORDKIt and enclose this advertisement. You run no risk itx
sending us an order as the tires may be returned at QUK expense if for any reason they are
not satisfactory on examination. We are perfectly reliable and money sent to us is as safe as in a
bank. If you order a pair of these tires, you will find that they will ride easier, run fabler,
wear better, last longer and look finer than any tire you have ever used or seen at any price. We?
know that you will be so well pleased that when you want a bicycle you will give us your order..
We want you to send us a trial order at once, hence this remarkable tire offer.
mp VMM jufffi T/OC-O don't buy anv kind at nny price until you send for a pair of
WF ¥ (/(/ fwfcfcl# m 1/fCO Hedgethorn Puncture-Proof tires 011 approval and trial at
the special introductory price quoted above; or write for our big Tire and Sundry Catalogue which
describes and quotes all makes and kinds of tires at about half the usual prices.
Hf* lAfMtY but write us a postal today. DO NOT Til INK OF BUYING a bicycle
m3%3 fvC## ww§\t m or a pair of tires from anyone until you know the new aud wonderful
offers wc are making. It only costs a postal to learn everything. Write it NOW.
J. L. MEAD CYCLE COMPANY,' CHICAGO, ILL
Don't Buy a Doped Horse
and don't let yourself be swindled by a
crooked horse dealer on any of the score
of tricks he has up his sleeve.
The "gyp" is abroad in the land. Every day
buyers of horses are shamefully fleeced. DON'T
BE ONE OF THE VICTIMS. Learn how to
protect yourself in buying, selling or trading. Get
the sensational new book
"Horse Secrets"
by Dr. A. S. Alexander, and make yourself horse-wise
and crook-proof.
Learn how " bishoping " is done —ho 4 w a " heaver "
is "shut"—a roarer "plugged " —how lameness, spavins,
and sweeny are temporarily hidden —the "burglar" dodge
—the horsehair trick —cocaine and gasoline doping —the
ginger trick —the loose shoe trick —in short how to beat
ALL the games of crooked auctioneers and dealers.
It is all in the " Horse Secrets " book, and if you ever buy or sell a
horse you need just this knowledge to protect yourself from being swindled.
Read Our Remarkable Offer Below
A WORD ABOUT THE FARM JOURNAL : This is the foremost farm and home monthly in the world ;
33 years old ; 650,000 subscribers from Maine to California. Cheerful, quaint, clever, intensely practical, well
printed and illustrated. Is for everybody, town, village, suburbs, or country; men, women, boys, girla,— the
whole family; absolutely clean and pure; 24 to 60 pages monthly. Wc recommend it absolutely to every reader
of this paper; you will find it unlike any other in the world.
OUR OFFER: {'ssSST ■£} All 3 far sl-25
(We cannot sell "florae Secret*" by Itself—only in this Combination.) J
»- -rt - t« i _ '
STJBSCB IBB' -A-T OUSTCIS.
Treat Paine, a signer of the Declara
tion of Independence, and Robert
Treat, a colonial governor of Connec
ticut.
He is survived by his widow and
i'.vo daughters.
Forced Baby to Drink Carbolic Acid.
Bridgeport, Conn., June 1. —In the
absence of his botner, Harry Silvikas,
six years old, forced carbolic acid
down the throat of his baby brother,
killing him.
They Liked the Story.
| Ccnan Doyle related this anecdote to
I show how a good story can delight
simple minded folk:
In a remote village r.ie blacksmith
had got hold of an old copy of a suc
cessful novel. In the long evenings be
used to read it aloud to the villagers,
who fairly reveled in it and listened
it out patiently to the end. At length,
when the happy turn of fortune arriv
ed which brings the hero and heroine
together and sets them living long and
happily, according to the most approv
ed rules, the villagers were so delighi
ed at the happy ending that they rusb
j ed off to procure the church keys and
j rang a merry peal, as they were wont
; to do when a member of their commu
i nlty was married.
Emma Goldman Has Narrow escape.
Spokane, Wash. June 1 Emma
Goldman and her manager, Hen Reit
man, came near death when their au
: tomobile was struck by a freight train
! on the Oreyon Railway & Navigation
: company's tracks. ICninia was thrown
j :sn feet, ianding on a sandbank. She
' was badly bruised.