The afternoon was fine and cloudless and hot. The stalwart switcher engine puffed down the track little faster than a pony could canter—but far more tirelessly. So far there had been no other rail or foot traffic on the narrow right-of-way hemmed by forest and foothills. They might be the only ponies in the world for all anyone knew; there had been no glimpses even of activity in the visible strip of sky.