The touch of those baby lips awoke a strange longing in the heart of the lonely man, and a dreamy, far-away look momentarily softened his hard face. To have a comfortable home to come back to every night, and not to be chased around here, there, and everywhere at the whims of the powers that be. To be happily married to a loving girl-wife, and have kiddies that would climb all over you, and run after you, and where you could lie on the sands, in the sun, by the sea, somewhere, and watch 'em playing--
A sudden exclamation from the mother awoke him sharply from his reverie.
"What's the matter?" he asked. She seemed terribly agitated. "Oh!" she said; "I've lost my hand-bag, and my ticket was in it and some money!"
"Were you sitting here all the time since you got on the train?" he inquired.
"No," she answered; "I was on that seat at the far end when I first came in this coach."
He got up and, walking down the aisle, made a thorough search of the place that she indicated, but his efforts were fruitless. It was a little brown Morocco-leather bag, she informed him, with her name, "Elizabeth Wilson," on it, under a celluloid panel.
"Who was sitting by you?" he asked. "D'you think you could recognize the person again?"
She shook her head despondently. "Oh, I don't remember," she wailed. "My girlie was crying, and in trying to quiet her I guess I didn't notice anybody in particular."
"How much money was in your bag?" he asked.
"Twenty-five dollars," she said brokenly. "I am going to Vancouver to look for a position, and it's all I have in the world. Oh, what shall we do, my baby and I?"
Ellis eyed the forlorn face a moment or two in silent commiseration; then, seeking out the conductor, whom he knew well, explained the situation.
"Yes, I mind 'em getting on at Calgary," said that official; "and she had a ticket through to Vancouver, all right."
"Say, Bob," the Sergeant persuaded, "that bag's been pinched off her without a doubt; but as she's no suspicion of anybody I can't very well search every one on the bloomin' train, and I'm getting off in a minute at Sabbano--be a good fellow and pass her on to Vancouver.... She's dead up against it."
The kind-hearted conductor agreed, and with an easier mind Ellis went back to the woman and told her.