A Romance in Transit
by Francis Lynde
A ROMANCE IN TRANSIT
Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1899
Copyright, 1897, by Charles Scribner's Sons
Trow Directory Printing and Bookbinding Company New York
To the small person who unconsciously provided the motif
herein wrought upon, this transitory tale is affectionately attributed
by THE AUTHOR
I. P. P. C.
III. THE PRIVATE
IV. THE DINNER
V. AT THE
VII. A DINNER ON
VIII. THE CAB OF
IX. FIFTY MILES
X. A CONFIDENCE
XI. AN ARRIVAL
XIV. WITH DENVER
XVI. THE MADDING
XVII. ON THE
XIX. THE FOOLISH
XXI. ON THE
XXII. ON THE
XXIII. THE LAND
XXIV. THE END OF
XXVI. A BLIND
I. P. P. C. ARIADNE
Train Number Three, the Flying Kestrel, vestibuled, had crossed
the yellow Rubicon of the West and was mounting toward the Occident up
the gentle acclivities of the Great Plain. The morning was perfect, as
early autumn mornings are wont to be in the trans-Missouri region; the
train was on time; and the through passengers in the Pullman
sleeping-car Ariadne had settled themselves, each according to his
gifts, to enjoy or endure the day-long run.
There was a sun-browned ranchman in lower eleven, homeward bound
from the Chicago stockyards; a pair of school-teachers, finishing their
vacation journey, in ten; a Mormon elder, smug in ready-made black and
narrow-brimmed hat, vis-à-vis in lower five with two hundred
pounds of good-natured, comfort-loving Catholic priesthood in lower
six. Two removes from the elder, a Denver banker lounged corner-wise in
his section, oblivious to everything save the figures in the financial
column of the morning paper; and diagonally across from the banker were
the inevitable newly married ones, advertising themselves as such with
all the unconscious naïveté of their kind.
Burton and his wife had lower three. They were homing from the
passenger agents' meeting in Chicago; and having gone breakfastless at
the Missouri River terminal by reason of a belated train, were waiting
for the porter to serve them with eggs and coffee from the buffet. The
narrow table was between them, and Burton, who was an exact man with an
eye to symmetrical detail, raised the spring clips and carefully
smoothed the wrinkles out of the table-cloth as he talked. A private
car had been attached to the train at the Missouri River, and its
freightage was of moment to the couple in section three.
Are you sure it's the President? asked the wife, leaning back to
give the cloth-laying a fair field. I thought the Naught-fifty was
General Manager Cadogan's car.
So it is; but President Vennor always borrows it for his annual
inspection trip. And I'm quite sure, because I saw Miss Vennor on the
platform when the car was coupled on.
Then we'll get home just in time to go on dress-parade, said the
little lady, flippantly. Colorado and Utah Division, fall in! 'Shun,
company! Eyes right! The President is upon you! and she went through a
minimized manual of arms with the table-knife.
The general agent frowned and stroked his beard. Your anarchistic
leanings will get us into trouble some time, Emily. Mr. Vennor is not a
man to be trifled with, and you mustn't forget that he is the President
of the Colorado and Utah Railway Company, whose bread you eat.
Whose bread I should like to eat, if that slow-poke in the buffet
would ever bring it, retorted the wife. And it is you who forget. You
are a man, and Mr. Vennor is a man; these are the primal facts, and the
business relation is merely incidental. He doesn't think any more of
you for standing in awe of him.
I don't stand in awe of him, Burton began; but the opportune
arrival of the buffet porter with the breakfast saved him the trouble
of elaborating his defence.
Half way through the frugal meal the swing-door of the farther
vestibule gave back, and a young man came down the aisle with the sure
step of an accustomed traveller. He stopped to chat a moment with the
school-teachers, and the ranchman in section eleven, looking him over
with an appreciative eye, pronounced him a man's man, and the terse
epithet fitted. He was a vigorous young fellow, clean-limbed and well
put together, and good-looking enough to tolerate mirrors in their
proper places. While he chatted with the two young women, he pushed his
hat back with a quick gesture which was an index to his character.
Open-hearted frankness looked out of the brown eyes, and healthy
optimism gave an upward tilt to the curling mustache. A young man with
a record clean enough to permit him to look an accusative world in the
face without abashment, one would say.
When he reached the breakfasting pair in three, he stopped again and
held out a hand to each.
Well, well; you two! he said. I didn't see you when I went
forward. Where did you get on?
At the river, replied Mrs. Burton, making room for him in the seat
beside her. Won't you sit down and break bread with us? literally, you
know; there isn't anything else to break unless you'll wait for the
shell of an egg that is not yet cooked.
No, thank you; I had my breakfast a good two hours ago. Where have
you been? and where are you going?
We have been at the passenger meeting in Chicago, and we are on the
way home, said the general agent.
Yes, running a race with the President, cut in Mrs. Burton. John
is dreadfully afraid we sha'n't get to Salt Lake in time to be
keel-hauled with the rest of the force.
The young man sat back on the arm of the opposite seat with the
light of inquiry in his eyes. What President? he asked.
Vennor, of our company. Didn't you know he was in the
Naught-fifty? said Burton.
No. They coupled it on just as we were leaving the river, and I
thoughtI took it for granted that our General Manager was aboard.
It's Mr. Cadogan's car.
I know; but President Vennor always borrows it for his annual
Are you sure? Have you seen him?
Quite sure. I saw Miss Vennor on the platform with some other young
people whom I don't know. It's Mr. Vennor's party.
The young man pushed his hat back, and the look of frankness became
introspective. Do you know the Vennors? personally, I mean.
The little lady made answer:
Yes. We met them at Manitou last summer. Do you know them?
The young man seemed unaccountably embarrassed. II've met Miss
Gertrudethat was last summer, too, he stammered. Did youdid you
like her, Mrs. Burton?
Very much, indeed; she is as sweet and lovable as her father is
odious. Do have a cup of coffee, won't you?
No, thank you. Then you didn't admire the President?
Indeed I didn't; no one could. He is one of the cool, contemptuous
kind of people; always looking you over as if he had half a mind to buy
you. He was barely civil to me, and he was positively rude to John.
Oh, no; not quite that, Emily, amended the husband. I'm only one
of a good many employees to him.
Draws the money-line sharp and clear, does he? said the young man,
who appeared to be more deeply interested than a merely casual topic
would account for.
The little lady nodded vigorously. That's it, exactly. You can
fairly hear the double eagles clink when he speaks.
The general agent deprecated disloyalty, and was fain to change the
What are you doing so far away from your territory, Fred? he
I'm in charge of the party of old people and invalids in the
Tadmor. They'd a mind to be 'personally conducted,' and they threaten
to take me all the way across to the Coast.
Good! exclaimed the small person. Then you can stop over and
visit us in Salt Lake.
The passenger agent shook his head. I sha'n't get that far. I must
break away at Denver, by all means.
Would nothing tempt you to go on?
I'm afraid not; that isIer the young man's embarrassment
suddenly returned, and he stopped helplessly.
Mrs. Burton's curiosity was instantly on the alert. Then there
is something? Do tell me what it is, she pleaded.
It's nothing; in fact, it's much less than nothing. I hesitated
because Ibecause your way of putting it is verythat is, it covers a
great deal of ground, he stammered.
Don't make him quibble any more than he has to, said Burton, with
mock severity. You see it's quite impossible for him to tell the
The young man laughed good-naturedly. That's the fact. I've been in
the passenger service so long that I can't always be sure of
recognizing the verities when I meet them. But to get back to the
original sheep; I mustn't go onnot beyond Denver. It would have been
better for all concerned if I had cut it short at the river.
For all concerned? for yourself and the invalids, you mean?
queried the curious one.
Yes, and perhaps for some others. But speaking of the invalids,
I'll have to be getting back to them; they'll think I've deserted them.
I'll be in again later in the day.
Mrs. Burton waited until the swing-door of the vestibule had winged
itself to rest behind him. Then she arched her eyebrows at her husband
and said, I wonder if Fred isn't the least little bit épris
with Gertrude Vennor?
To which the general agent replied, with proper masculine contumely,
I believe you would infer a whole railroad from a single cross-tie. Of
course he isn't. Brockway is a good fellow, and a rising young man, but
he knows his place.
None the less it was the arrow of the woman's intuition, and not
that of the man's reason, that pierced the truth. In the vestibule the
passenger agent suddenly changed his mind about rejoining his party in
the Tadmor, turning aside into the deserted smoking-room of the Ariadne
to burn a reflective cigar, and to piece out reminiscence with present
Notwithstanding his expressed reluctance, he had intended going on
to the Pacific Coast with the party in the Tadmor; had, in effect, more
than half promised so to do. It was the time of year when he could best
be spared from his district; and the members of the party had made a
point of it. But the knowledge that Miss Gertrude Vennor was a
passenger on the train opened up a new field wherein prudence and
reawakened passion fought for the mastery, to the utter disregarding of
the mere business point of view.
They had met in Colorado the previous summerthe passenger agent
and the President's daughterand Brockway had lost his heart to the
sweet-faced young woman from the farther East before he had so much as
learned her name. He was convoying a train-load of school-teachers
across the continent; and then, as now, she was a member of a party in
her father's private car. Their meeting was at Silver Plume, where she
had become separated from her father's party, and had boarded the
excursion train, mistaking it for the regular which was to follow
Brockway's special as second section. The obvious thing for Brockway to
have done was to put her off at Georgetown, where the following section
would have picked her up in a few minutes. But he did no such unselfish
thing. Before the excursion train had doubled the final curve of the
Loop he was ready to purchase her continued presence at a price.
This he accomplished by omitting to mention the obvious expedient.
Leaving a message with the Georgetown operator, notifying the President
that his daughter was on the excursion train, Brockway went on his way
rejoicing; and, by a judicious conspiracy with his own conductor and
engineer, managed to keep the special well ahead of the regular all the
way to Denver.
That was the beginning of it, and fate, kindly or unkindly, had
added yet other meetings; at Manitou, at Leadville, and again at Salt
Lake City, where the President's daughter had voluntarily joined
Brockway's sight-seeing party on the strength of an acquaintance with
two of the Boston school-mistresses. The temporary chaperons were kind,
and the friendship had burgeoned into something quite like intimacy
before the Mormon day was overpast. But there it had ended. Since
that day he had neither seen her nor heard from her; and when he had
come to look the matter squarely in the face in the light of sober
afterthought, he was minded to put his infatuation under foot, and to
try honestly to be glad that their lives had gone apart. For he had
learned that Mr. Francis Vennor was a multi-millionnaire, and that his
daughter was an heiress in her own right; and no poor gentleman was
ever more fiercely jealous of his poverty rights than was this shrewd
young soldier in the unnumbered army of the dispossessed.
But the intervention of half a continent of space is one thing, and
that of a mere car-length is another. Now that he had to walk but the
length of the Tadmor to be with her again, the eager passion which he
had fondly believed to be safely dead and buried rose up in its might
and threatened to put poverty-pride, and all other calmly considered
springs of action to the sword; did presently run them through, for
when Brockway left the smoking-room of the Ariadne and crossed the
jarring platforms to the door of the Tadmor, he was flogging his wits
to devise some pretext which would excuse an invasion of the private
II. THE PERSONALLY CONDUCTED
In view of the certain proximity of Miss Gertrude Vennor, Brockway
wanted nothing so much as a quiet opportunity to think his mind clear
in the matter of his love-affair, but time and place were both denied
him. Lying in wait for him at the very door of the Tadmor was a thin
old gentleman, with hock-bottle shoulders and penthoused eyes. His
voice was high-pitched and rasping; and his speech was petulance grown
old and unreasoning.
Mr. ahBrockway, I protest! Do you consider it fair to us, your
patrons, to absent yourself for the ahbetter part of the morning?
Here I've been waiting for you more than an hour, sir, and
I beg your pardon, Mr. Jordan; I'm sorry, Brockway cut in. What
can I do for you?
You can attend to your ahbusiness a little closer, for one thing,
Mr. ahBrockway, quavered the aggrieved one, taking a yard-long
coupon ticket from his breast-pocket; and for another, you can give me
the sixty days going limit on this ticket that I ahstipulated for
when I bought it, sir.
Brockway glanced at the ticket and called attention to the
conditions in the contract. The going limit of thirty days is plainly
stated here, Mr. Jordan. Didn't you read the contract before signing
Don't make any difference, sir; I ahstipulated for sixty days,
and I require you to make the stipulation ahgood, sir.
But, my dear sir, I can't. No representative of any one of the
lines interested is authorized to change these conditions.
Very well, sir; v-e-r-y well. The irascible one folded the ticket
with tremulous fingers and sought to replace it in his pocket-book. I
shall know what road to ahpatronize next time, and it won't be yours,
Mr. ahBrockway; you may depend upon that, sir.
The passenger agent's forte was placability. Don't worry about your
ticket, Mr. Jordan, he said. We'll take good care of you, and if you
should happen to be more than thirty days in reaching Los Angeles
Thirty days! gasped the objector. Great ahheavens, sir, you
told us you could put us there in ahfour days and a half!
So I did, and so we shall, barring the stop-overs the party may
wish to make; but in that case I don't see why you should require a
sixty-day limit, said Brockway, with an affable smile.
By this time quite a little group had gathered around them, and
anxious queries began to beat thick and fast upon Brockway's ears.
What's that about our tickets?
Thirty days, did you say?
Can't have stop-overs?
Brockway got upon his feet. One moment, if you please, he
protested. There is nothing wrongnothing different. Mr. Jordan and I
were merely discussing the question of an extra limit on his own
ticket; that was all.
Where do we get dinner?
What time do we reach Denver?
Is there a dining-car on this train?
Brockway answered the inquiries in sequence, and when the norm of
quiet was restored, a soft-spoken little gentleman in a grass-cloth
duster and a velvet skull-cap drew him away to the smoking-compartment.
Let's go and smoke, he said; and Brockway went willingly, inasmuch
as the little gentleman with the womanish face and the ready cigar-case
was the only person in the party who seemed to be capable of travelling
without a guardian.
Worry the life out of you, don't they, my boy, said the comforter,
when his cigar was alight.
Oh, no; I'm well used to it.
I presume you are, in a way. Still, some of the complaints are so
ridiculous. I suppose you've heard the latest?
Nothing later than Mr. Jordan's demand for sixty days in which to
complete a week's journey.
Oh, it isn't that; that's an individual grievance. The other
involves the entire party. Of course, you are aware that the Tadmor is
no longer the rear car in the train?
Oh, Lord! are they going to fight about that?
Unquestionably. Didn't you promise some of them that this
particular chariot should be at the tail-end of the trans-continental
No. It was merely an answer to a question. I said that extra cars
were usually put on behind. Are they going to demand it as a right?
Yes; I believe the deputation is waiting for you now.
Heavenswhat a lot of cranks! said Brockway, despairingly. The
thing can't be done, but I may as well go and fight it out.
The deputation was in section six, and one of the committee rose and
gave him a seat.
There is a little matter we should like to have adjusted, began
the courteous one; but Brockway interrupted.
Mr. Somers was just telling me about it. I hope you are not going
There were two elderly ladies on the committee, and they protested
as one person.
Now, Mr. Brockway! You know we made it a positive conditionso we
could go out on the platform and see the scenery.
But, my dear madam, let me explain
There is nothing to explain; it was an explicit promise, and we
insist on its fulfilment.
Just one word, Brockway pleaded. The car behind us is our General
Manager's private car, lent to President Vennor, of the Colorado and
Utah. If we should put it ahead of this, Mr. Vennor's party would be
continually disturbed by the passengers and train-men going back and
forth. Don't you see
The fourth member of the deputation put in his word at this.
How long has it been since the railway companies began to put the
convenience of their guests before the rights of their patrons, Mr.
Brockway? Answer me that, if you please.
I should like to know! declared one of the ladies. We have
paid for our accommodations.
The courteous one summed up the matter in set phrase.
It's no use, Mr. Brockway, as you see. If you don't carry out your
part of the agreement, I'm afraid we shall have to telegraph to your
For a moment Brockway was tempted to answer four fools according to
their folly. Then he bethought him that he had but now been seeking a
pretext which would open the door of the private car. Here was a
makeshift; a poor one, to be sure, but better than none. Wherefore,
instead of quarrelling with the deputation, he rose with placatory
phrases in his mouth.
Very well; I'll see what can be done. But you must give me a little
time; the scenery pointing to the monotonous landscape circling
slowly with the onward sweep of the trainis not exactly of the
rear-platform variety yet.
After which he retreated to the rear vestibule of the Tadmor and
stood looking out through the glass panel in the door at the
hamper-laden front platform of the Naught-fifty, trying to muster
courage to take the chilling plunge. For he knew that the year agone
episode was not altogether pleasing to the father of Miss Gertrude
III. THE PRIVATE CAR
Yes, sah; mighty sorry, sah; but we cayn't cook you-all's dinner,
no-how, sah. Wateh-pipe's done bu'sted in de range.
President Vennor turned and regarded the big-bodied cook of the
Naught-fifty with the eye-sweep of appraisal which Mrs. Burton had
found so annoying.
No dinner, you say? That's bad. Why did you burst the pipe?
II didn't bu'sted it, sah; hit des bu'sted hitse'f'deed it did,
Well, can't you serve us a cold lunch?
Might do datyes, sah; ef dat'll do.
What is that, papa; no luncheon to-day? asked a young woman,
coming down the compartment to stand beside the President's chair.
There was a family resemblance, but in the daughter the magic of
femineity had softened the severer characteristics until they became
winsome and good to look upon. The cool gray eyes of the father were
Gertrude's inheritance, also; but in the eyes of the daughter the
calculating stare became the steady gaze of clean-hearted
guilelessness; and in her even-tinted complexion there was only a
suggestion of the sallow olive of the father's clean-shaven face. For
face and figure, Gertrude owed much to birth and breeding, and it was
small wonder that Frederick Brockway had lost his heart to her in
time-honored and romantic fashion.
The President answered his daughter's query without taking his eyes
from the big-bodied cook.
No; there is something the matter with the range. Ask the others if
they would prefer a cold luncheon in the car to the table d'hôte
at the dinner station.
Gertrude went to the other end of the compartment and stated the
case to Mrs. Dunham, the chaperon of the party; to Priscilla and Hannah
Beaswicke, two young women of the Annex; to Chester Fleetwell, A.B.,
Harvard, by the skin of his teeth, but the ablest oarsman of his class
by a very safe majority; and to Mr. Harold Quatremain, the President's
The dinner station carried it unanimously, and Gertrude announced
We're all agreed upon the table d'hôte, she said; and the
Falstaffian negro shook himself free and backed into the vestibule.
What is its name? and when do we arrive?
I'll have to inquire, Mr. Vennor replied. I'll go forward and
have the conductor wire ahead for a separate table.
But Gertrude said: Please don't; let's go with the crowd for once.
I'm so tired of being always specialized.
The President's smile was suggestive of the metallic smirk on the
face of a George-the-Fourth penny. Just as you please, he rejoined;
but I'll go and find out when and where.
Now it chanced that at this precise moment Brockway had laid his
hand on the Tadmor's door-knob preparatory to taking the plunge; and
when he opened the door he found himself face to face with the
President. Whereupon he fell back and lost the power of speech, while
the incomer appraised him with his eyes and tried to remember where he
had seen him before. Recognition brought with it a small frown of
Your name is Brockway, I believe, the President said.
Ye-yes, Brockway stammered, being by no means so sure of it at the
H-m; and, if I remember correctly, you are an employee of this
I am. The passenger agent was beginning a little to recover his
scattered store of self-possession.
Very good. Possibly you can tell me what I want to know. What is
the dinner station, and when do we reach it?
Morenotwelve-ten. Shall I wire ahead for a private table?
Brockway asked, eager to preface his unwelcome purpose with some small
token of service.
By no means; we are no better than the patrons of your company.
What is good enough for them ought to suffice for us.
Of course, if you don't wish it, Brockway began; and then the
plunge: I am in charge of the excursionists in this car, and they want
it placed behind yours. If you will kindly consent to humor their
whim He stopped in deference to the frown of displeasure which was
gradually overspreading the President's brow.
And so make our private car a thoroughfare for everybody, said he,
indignantly; then, with a sudden turn which confused Brockway until he
saw its drift, But you are quite right; the patrons of your company
should always be considered first. We are only guests. By all means,
make the change at the first opportunity.
Please don't misunderstand me, Brockway said, courageously. I
didn't propose it. If you object, just say so, and I'll see them all
The President shook his head reprovingly, and Brockway fancied he
could feel the cold gray eyes pinning him against the partition.
Certainly not; I am afraid you don't sufficiently consider your
duty to your employers. I not only authorize the changeI desire it. I
shall request it if you do not.
Brockway winced under the patronizing tone, but he was determined
not to let pride stand in the way of better things. So he said, Thank
you for helping me out. I'll have the change made at the dinner
station, and we'll try not to annoy you any more than we can help.
That ended it, and he was no nearer the penetralia of car
Naught-fifty than before. Mr. Vennor turned to go, but at the door he
bethought him of the crippled range.
A water-pipe has burst in our kitchen range, said he. Can we get
it repaired this side of Denver?
Brockway considered it for a moment. Back of his passenger
department service there was an apprenticeship in mechanics, and he was
weighing the scanty furnishings of the engineer's tool-box against the
probable askings of the undertaking. It was a chance to show his
good-will, and he concluded to risk it.
Hardly. We don't stop long enough at the division station. Is it a
very bad break?
Indeed, I know nothing about it. The cook tells me he can't use the
May I go in and look at it? Brockway asked.
Now President Vennor, upon recognizing Gertrude's acquaintance of
the previous summer, had determined to prevent a renewal of the
intimacy at whatever cost; but he abhorred tables d'hôte and
railway eating-stations, and was willing to make some concessions to
avoid them. So he gave the coveted permission, and a minute later they
were in the kitchen of the private car, inspecting the disabled range.
It isn't as bad as it might be, Brockway announced, finally. I
think I can stop the leak with what tools I can find in the engineer's
Yes; I'm a machinist by trade, you know. I earned my living at it
awhile, before I went into the passenger department. Brockway found a
certain measure of satisfaction in running counter to the presumed
anti-craftsman prejudice of the man of inherited wealth.
I'm sure it is very good of you to offer, but I couldn't think of
troubling you, the President said, sparring to gain time in which to
perfect a little plan which had just suggested itself.
Oh, it's no trouble; I shall be glad enough to help you out.
Very well, thenif you wish to try. I will make it worth your
Brockway straightened up and met the appraising eyes unflinchingly.
Excuse me, Mr. Vennor, but you've mistaken your man this time, he
said, steadily. I'll gladly do it as a kindnessnot otherwise.
The President smiled. I beg your pardon, Mr. Brockway, he
apologized, with the faintest possible emphasis on the prefix; we
shall be most grateful if you will come to our rescue upon your own
terms. I presume you won't have time before noon?
Nno, said Brockway, glancing at his watch and generously burying
his pique with the provocation; but I'll attack it as soon as we leave
Moreno. It won't take long.
Mr. Vennor bowed, and saw his newly pledged servitor safely out upon
the hamper-laden platform. He cherished a little theory of his own
respecting the discouraging of youthful and sentimental intimacies, and
it was based upon conditions which Brockway's proposed undertaking
might easily fulfil. Gertrude had been distinctly pleased with the
young man the preceding summer. Other things had happened since, and,
fortunately, Fleetwell was along to look after his own interests. None
the less, it might be well for them to meet under conditions which
would make it impossible for the passenger agent to pose as Gertrude's
social equal. Accordingly, the President sought out the porter and gave
him his instructions.
William, that young man will come in this afternoon to repair the
range. When he is well at work, I want you to come and tell me.
IV. THE DINNER STATION
The railway company's hotel at Moreno is a pretentious Queen Anne
cockle-shell, confronted by a broad platform flowing in an unrippled
tide of planking between the veranda and the track, with tributary
wooden streams paralleling the rails.
Brockway knew this platform by length and by breadth; and when the
Flying Kestrel ranged alongside he meant to project himself into the
procession of dinner-seekers what time Miss Vennor should be passing
the Tadmor. But l'homme propose, et la femme
Oh, Mr. Brockway; will you help me find my satchel? the one
with the monogram, you know. I can't find it anywhere. Thus one of the
unescorted ladies whose major weakness was a hopeless inability to keep
in touch with her numerous belongings.
The train was already at a stand, but Brockway smothered his
impatience and joined the search for the missing hand-bag, contenting
himself with a glimpse of the President's daughter as she passed the
windows of the Tadmor. Fleeting as it was, the glimpse fired his heart
anew. The year had brought her added largesse of beauty and
winsomeness. The wind was blowing free and riotous, caressing the soft
brown hair under the dainty travelling hat, and twisting the modest
gray gown into clinging draperies as she breasted it. Brockway gazed
and worshipped afresh, and prudence and poverty-pride vanished when he
observed that she was leaning upon the arm of an athletic young man,
whose attitude was sufficiently lover-like to make the passenger agent
abjure wisdom and curse common sense.
That's what I get for playing the finical idiot! he groaned. A
year ago I might have had it all my own way if I hadn't been a
pride-ridden fool. Confound the money, anyway; it's enough to make a
man wish it were all at the bottom of the sea!
With which anarchistic reflection he went out to arrange for
transferring the Tadmor, and, incidentally, to get his own dinner. When
the first was done there was scant time for the second, and he was at
the lunch counter when the President's party went back to the
Why, they've taken on another car, said Gertrude, noticing the
No, her father rejoined, shortly; we have a passenger agent on
board, and he has seen fit to put his excursionists' car in the rear.
At the word, Gertrude's thoughts went back to a certain afternoon
filled with a swift rush down a precipitous canyon, with a brawling
stream at the track-side, and a simple-hearted young man, knowing
naught of the artificialities and much of the things that are, at her
The train of reflection paused when they reached the sitting-room of
the private car, but it went on again when the President's daughter had
curled herself into the depths of a great wicker sleepy-hollow to watch
the unending procession of stubble-fields slipping past the car window.
How artlessly devoted he had been, this earnest young private in the
great business army; so different fromwell, from Chester Fleetwell,
for example. Chester's were the manners of a later day; a day in which
the purely social distinctions of sex are much ignored. That, too, was
pleasant, in its way. And yet there was something very charming in the
And Mr. Brockway knew his rôle and played it wellif, indeed, it
were a rôle, which she very much doubted. Old school manners are not to
be put on and off like a garment, nor is sincerity to be aped as a fad.
Just here reflection became speculative. What had become of Mr.
Brockway since their Mormon day? Had he gone on with his
school-mistresses and ended by marrying one of them? There was
something repellent in the thought of his marrying any one, but when
reason demanded a reason, Gertrude's father had joined her.
I hope we shall be able to have dinner in the car, the President
said, drawing up a chair. I stumbled upon a young mechanic when I went
forward to inquire about the eating-station, and he agreed to repair
the range this afternoon.
Yes, the President rejoined; and then he began to debate with
himself as to the strict truth of the affirmative, and the conversation
Meanwhile, Brockway had hastened out to the engine at the cry of
All aboard! The 828 was sobbing for the start when he climbed to the
foot-board, and the engineer, who knew him, grinned knavishly.
Better get you some overclothes if you're goin' to ride up here,
I'm not going to stay. Lend me a pair of overalls, and a jumper,
and a pair of pipe-tongs, and a hammer, and a few other things, will
Sure thing, said the man at the throttle. What's up? One o' your
tourists broke a side-rod?
Brockway laughed and dropped easily into the technical figure of
No; crown-sheet's down in the Naught-fifty's cook-stove, and I'm
going to jack it up.
Good man, commented the engineer, who rejoiced in Brockway's happy
lack of departmental pride. Help yourself to anything you can find.
Brockway found a grimy suit of overclothes and took off his coat.
Goin' to put 'em on here and go through the train in uniform?
laughed the engineer.
Why not? Brockway demanded. I'm not ashamed of the blue denim
yet. Wore it too long.
He donned the craftsman's uniform. The garments were a trifle short
at the extremities, but they more than made up for the lack
How's that for a lightning change? he shouted, trying to make
himself heard above the din and clangor of the engine. Just hang on to
my coat and hat till I get back, and I'll swap with you again. And
gathering up the handful of tools, he climbed back over the coal and
disappeared through the door of the mail car.
V. AT THE MEETING-POINT
Brockway made his way unrecognized through the train, and found the
Falstaffian cook awaiting him in the kitchen of the Naught-fifty. Five
minutes later, he was hard at work on the disabled stove, quite
reckless of soot and grime, and intent only upon making a workmanlike
job of the repairs. The narrow compartment was none too well
ventilated, and he was soon working in an atmosphere rivalling that of
the hot-room in a Turkish bath. Wherefore he wrought arduously, and in
due time the leaky joint was made whole.
After turning the water on and satisfying himself of the fact,
Brockway crawled out from behind the range and got upon his feet with a
sigh of relief. Just then the portway into the waiter's pantry filled
with faces like the arch of a proscenium-box in a theatre. Brockway
wheeled quickly at the sound of voices and saw the President, one young
woman with eye-glasses and another without, a clean-faced young man
with uncut hair, andMiss Vennor.
Ha! said the President, with the King George Fourth smile and his
coldest stare; we caught you fairly in the midst of it, didn't we, Mr.
Brockway? Do you still assert that we shall dine at our own table this
The effect of Mr. Vennor's dramatic little surprise was varied and
not altogether as he had prefigured. As for the person most deeply
concerned, no one was ever less ashamed of a craftsman's insignia than
was Brockway; but when he saw that the President had permitted him to
do a service for the sole purpose of making him appear ridiculous, his
heart was hot in just proportion to the magnitude of the affront.
As for Gertrude, she could have wept with pity and indignation. This
was the young mechanic her father had found and used, only to make
him a laughing-stock! The light of a sudden purpose flashed in the
steady gray eyes, and she spoke quickly, before Brockway could reply to
her father's gibe.
Why, Mr. Brockway! where did you come from? It really seems that
you are fated to be our good angel. Have you actually got it repaired?
The winsome face disappeared from the portway, and before Brockway
could open his lips she was standing beside him. Show me what was the
matter with it, she said.
He obeyed, with proper verbal circumstance, gaining a little
self-possession with every added phrase. Gertrude led him on, laughing
and chatting and dragging the others into the rescue until Brockway
quite forgot that he was supposed to be a laughing-stock for gods and
I'm very glad to meet you, I'm sure, he said, bowing gravely to
the Misses Beaswicke, when Gertrude had actually gone the length of
introducing him; Mr. Fleetwell, I've heard of youand that's probably
more than you can say of me. Mr. Vennor, I think you may safely count
upon having your dinner in the Naught-fifty.
Yes, thanks to you, said Gertrude, quickly. Have youwill your
other engagements let you join us?
Brockway was of four different minds in as many seconds. Here was a
chance to defeat Mr. Vennor at his own game; and love added its word.
But he could not consent to break unwelcome bread, and was about to
excuse himself when the President, in answer to an imperative signal
flying in Gertrude's eyes, seconded the invitation.
Yes, come in and join us, Mr. Brockway; we shall be glad to have
you, I'm sure. The stony stare which accompanied the words was
anything but hospitable, but the President felt that he had done his
whole duty and something over and above.
Brockway hesitated a moment, glanced at Gertrude, and accepted. Then
he began to gather up the tools. Gertrude caught up her skirts and
stepped into the vestibule to give him room.
You'll not disappoint us, will you? she said, by way of
leave-taking. You may come as early as you please. I want you to meet
The portway proscenium-box was empty by this time, and Brockway
dropped his tools and spoke his mind.
Miss Vennor, I know, and you know, that I ought not to come at all.
It was awfully good of you to ask me, but
But what? she said, encouragingly.
I think you must understand what I want to say and can't, he went
on. You saw that I was like to be overtaken by a fit of very foolish
self-consciousness, and you were kind enough to come to my rescue. I
appreciate it, but I don't want to take undue advantage of it.
I'm sure I don't know what you mean, she laughed. We shall look
for you between six and seven. And you'll come, because I'm going to
run away now, before you have a chance to retract. Good-bytill this
VI. REGARDLESS ORDERS
Ten hours' westing from the Missouri River takes a moderately fast
train well into the great grazing region whose name is Length and
Breadth, and whose horizon is like that of the sea. Since leaving
Antelope Springs, however, the Flying Kestrel had been lagging a
little. For this cause, the supper station was still more than an hour
away when Brockway deserted his ancients and invalids and crossed the
platforms to the rear door of the private car.
The admission that he dreaded the ordeal is not to be set down to
his discredit. His life had been an arduous struggle, for an education
and the necessities first, and for advancement afterward. In such a
conflict, utility speedily becomes the watchword, and if the passenger
agent were less of a workaday drudge than his fellows, he was modestly
unaware of the fact.
In the course of the afternoon all the reasons why he should manage
to get himself left behind at some convenient station were given a
hearing, but love finally triumphed, and half-past six o'clock found
him at the door of the Naught-fifty. Fortunately for his introduction,
the occupants of the sitting-room were well scattered; and Gertrude
came forward at once to welcome him.
Thank you for coming, she said, putting her hand in his with the
cordiality of an old friend; I was afraid you might forget us, after
all. Let me introduce you to my cousin, Mrs. Dunham; Cousin Jeannette,
this is Mr. Brockway.
Brockway bent low in the direction of an elderly lady with a
motherly face; bowed to the Misses Beaswicke and to Fleetwell, and
acknowledged the President's nod.
I'm only too happy to be permitted to come, he said to Gertrude,
drawing up a chair to make a group of three with the chaperon. The
social side of a business man's life is so nearly a minus quantity that
your thoughtfulness takes rank as an act of Christian charity.
Gertrude laughed softly. Tell me how a business man finds time to
acquire the art of turning compliments, she said; but Mrs. Dunham came
to his rescue.
I suppose your occupation keeps you away from home a great deal,
doesn't it? she asked.
It certainly would if I had a home, Brockway replied.
Do you have to travel all the time?
Rather more than nine-tenths of it, I should say.
How dreadfully tiresome it must become! Of course, when one is
seeing things for the first time it is very interesting; but I should
imagine the car-window point of view would become hackneyed in a very
It does; and it is pathetically unsatisfying if one care for
anything more than a glimpse of things. I have gone up and down in my
district for four years, and yet I know nothing of the country or the
people outside of a narrow ribbon here and there with a railway line in
That is a good thought, Gertrude said. I have often boasted of
having seen the West, but I believe I have only threaded it back and
forth a few times.
That is all any of us do, Brockway asserted. Our knowledge of the
people outside of the railway towns is very limited. I once made a
horseback trip through the back counties of East Tennessee, and it was
a revelation to me. I never understood until then the truth of the
assertion that people who live within sight of a railway all have the
Meaning that they lose in originality what they gain in
sophistication? said Gertrude.
Just that. They become a part of the moving world; and as the
railway civilizing process is much the same the country over, they lose
their identity as sectional types.
Mrs. Dunham leaned back in her chair and began to make mental notes
with queries after them. Mr. Vennor had given her to understand that
they were to have a rara avis, served underdone, for dinner;
and, in the kindness of her heart, she had determined to see that the
young artisan, as her cousin had called him, was not led on to his
own undoing. Now, however, she began to suspect that some one had made
a mistake. This young man seemed to be abundantly able to fight his own
I presume you are very familiar with this part of the
countryalong your own line, Mr. Brockway, she said, when the waiter
came in to lay the plates.
In the way that I have just indicated, yes. I know so much of its
face as you can see from this window. But my knowledge doesn't go much
beyond the visible horizon.
Neither does mine, but I can imagine, Gertrude said.
Ah, yes; but imagination isn't knowledge.
No; it's often better.
Pleasanter, you mean; I grant you that.
No, I meant more accurate.
Gertrude smiled. You are quite merciless, aren't you? But if I must
defend myself I should say that imagination paints a composite picture,
out of drawing as to details, perhaps, but typically true.
Brockway objected. Being unimaginative, I can't quite accept that.
Can't you? That is what Priscilla Beaswicke would call the
disadvantage of being Occidentalized.
I suppose I am that, Brockway admitted cheerfully. I can always
breathe freer out here between these wide horizons; and the majesty of
this Great Flatness appeals to me even more than that of the
They followed his gesture. The sun was dipping to the western edge
of the bare plain, and the air was filled with ambient gold. The tawny
earth, naked and limitless, melted so remotely into the dusty glow of
the sky as to leave no line of demarcation. The lack of shadows and the
absence of landmarks confused the senses until the flying train seemed
to stand with ungripping wheels in the midst of a slowly revolving disk
of yellow flatness, through which the telegraph-poles and mile-posts
darted with sentient and uncanny swiftness.
I can feel its sublimity, Gertrude said, softly, answering his
thought; but its solemn unchangeableness depresses me. I love nature's
moods and tenses, and it seems flippant to mention such things in the
presence of so much fixity.
Brockway smiled. The prairie has its moods, too. A little later in
the year we should be running between lines of fire, and those big
balls of tumbleweed would be racing ahead of the wind like small
meteors. Later still, when the snows come, it has its savage mood, when
anything with blood in its veins may not go abroad and live.
I suppose you have been out here in a blizzard, haven't you? said
the chaperon; but when he would have replied there was a general stir,
and the waiter announced:
Dinner is served.
VII. A DINNER ON WHEELS
When the President's party gathered about the table, Mrs. Dunham
placed Brockway at her right, with Gertrude beside him. Mr. Vennor
disapproved of the arrangement, but he hoped that Priscilla Beaswicke,
who was Brockway's vis-à-vis, might be depended upon to divert
the passenger agent's attention. Miss Beaswicke confirmed the hope with
her second spoonful of soup by asking Brockway what he thought of
Now, to the passenger agent, the great Russian novelist was as yet
no more than a name, and he said so frankly and took no shame
therefore. Whereupon Mr. Vennor:
Oh, come, Priscilla; you mustn't begin on Mr. Brockway like that. I
fancy he has had scant time to dabble in your little intellectual
Gertrude looked up quickly, and the keen sense of justice began to
assert itself. Having escaped the pillory in his character of artisan,
the passenger agent was to be held up to ridicule in his proper person.
Not if she could help it, Gertrude promised herself; and she turned
suddenly upon the collegian.
What do you think of Tourguénief, Cousin Chester? she asked,
A good bit less than nothing, answered the athlete, with his eyes
in his plate. What is there about him that we ought to know and
Tell us, Priscilla, said Gertrude, passing the query along.
But the elder Miss Beaswicke refused to enlighten anyone. Go and
get his book and read it, as I did, she said.
I sha'n't for one, Fleetwell declared. I can't read the original,
and I won't read a translation.
Have you read him in the original, Priscilla? Gertrude inquired,
determined to push the subject so far afield that it could never get
Oh, hush! said the elder Miss Beaswicke. What is the matter with
you two. I refuse positively to be quarrelled with.
That ended the Russian divagation, and it had the effect of making
the table-talk impersonal. This was precisely what Mr. Vennor desired.
What he meant to do was to set a conversational pace which would show
Gertrude that Brockway was hopelessly out of his element in her own
The plan succeeded admirably. So far as the social aspect of the
meal was concerned, the passenger agent might as well have been dining
at the table of the Olympians. Art, literature, Daudet's latest book,
and Henriette Ronner's latest group of cats, the decorative designs in
the Boston Public Library, and the renaissance of Buddhism in the
nineteenth centurybefore these topics Brockway went hopelessly dumb.
And not once during the hour was Mrs. Dunham or Gertrude permitted to
help him, though they both tried with charitable and praiseworthy
perseverance, as thus:
Mrs. Dunham, in a desperate effort to ignore the Public
Library: I'm afraid all this doesn't interest you very much, Mr.
Brockway. It's so fatally easy
Fleetwell, whose opinion touching a portion of the design has
been contravened by Mr. Vennor: I say, Cousin Jeannette, isn't the
Sargent decoration for the staircase hall et sequentia, until
Brockway sinks back into oblivion to come to the surface ten minutes
later at a summons from the other side.
Gertrude, purposely losing the thread of Priscilla
Beaswicke's remarks on the claims of theosophy to an unprejudiced
hearing: What makes you so quiet, Mr. Brockway? Tell me about your
other adventures with the school-teachersafter you left Salt Lake
City, you know.
Brockway, catching at the friendly straw with hope once more
reviving: Then you haven't forgottenexcuse me; Miss Beaswicke is
speaking to you. And the door shuts in his face and leaves him again
in outer darkness.
In the nature of things mundane, even the most leisurely dinner
cannot last forever. Brockway's ordeal came to an end with the black
coffee, and when he was free he would have vanished quickly if Gertrude
had not detained him.
You are not going to leave us at once, are you? she protested.
II think I'd better go back to my 'ancients and invalids,' if
you'll excuse me.
Gertrude was conscience-stricken, and her hospitable angel upbraided
her for having given her guest an unthankful meal. Wherefore she sought
to make amends.
Don't go just yet unless you are obliged to, she pleaded. Sit
down and tell me about the schoolma'ams. How far did you go with them?
I had to make the whole blessed circuit, he said, tarrying
Do you often have such deliciously irresponsible people to convoy?
Not often; but the regular people usually make up for it inwell,
in cantankerousness; that's about the only word that will fit it.
Brockway was thinking of the exacting majority in the Tadmor.
And yet it doesn't make you misanthropic? I should think it would.
What place is this we are coming to?
Carvalhothe supper station.
Gertrude saw her father coming toward them; she guessed his purpose
and resented it. If she chose to make kindly amends to the passenger
agent for his sorry dinner, she would not be prevented.
We stop here a little while, don't we? she asked of Brockway.
Yes; twenty minutes or more. Would you like to go out for a breath
of fresh air? She had risen and caught up her wrap and hat.
I should; it is just what I was going to propose. Cousin Jeannette,
I'm going to walk on the platform with Mr. Brockway. Come, she said;
and they escaped before Mr. Vennor could overtake them.
Once outside, they paced up and down under the windows of the train,
chatting reminiscently of four bright days a year agone, and shunning
the intervening period as two people will whose lives have met and
touched and gone apart again. At the second turn, they met Mrs. Dunham
and Fleetwell; and at the third, the President, sandwiched between
Hannah and Priscilla Beaswicke. Whereupon Brockway, scenting espionage,
drew Gertrude away toward the engine.
The great, black bulk of the heavy ten-wheeler loomed portentous,
and the smoky flare of the engineer's torch, as he thrust it into the
machinery to guide the snout of his oil-can, threw the overhanging mass
of iron and steel into sombre relief.
Brockway shaded his eyes under his hand and peered up at the number
beneath the cab window. The new 926, he said; we'll get back some of
our lost time behind her.
Do you know them all by name? Gertrude queried.
Oh, no; not all.
I suppose you've ridden on them many times?
Brockway laughed. I should say I hadon both sides, as the
What does that mean?
It's slang for firing and driving; I've done a little of both, you
I didn't know it. Isn't it terribly dangerous? When anything
happens, the men on the engine are almost always killed, aren't they?
When they are it's because they haven't time to save themselves.
It's all nonsensenewspaper nonsense, mostlyabout the engineer
sticking to his post like the boy on the burning deck. A man can do
whatever there is to be done toward stopping his train while you could
count ten, and no amount of heroism could accomplish any more.
I have often thought I should like to ride on an engine, Gertrude
I wish I had known it earlier in the day; your wish might have been
gratified very easily.
Might it? I suppose they never let any one ride on the night
engines, do they?
Brockway caught his breath. Do you meanwould you trust me to take
you on the engine to-night? he asked, wondering if he had heard
Why not? she said, with sweet gravity.
The engineer had oiled his way around to their side, and Brockway
spoke to him.
Good-evening, Mac, he said; and the man turned and held up his
Hello, Fred, he began; and then, seeing Gertrude: Excuse me, I didn't see the lady.
At a sign from Gertrude, Brockway introduced the engineer. Miss
Vennor, this is Mr. Maclureone of our oldest runners.
I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Maclure, said Gertrude, sweetly;
and the man of machinery scraped his feet and salaamed.
Mac, Miss Vennor thinks she would like to take a night spin on the
926. May we ride a little way with you?
Well, I should say! assented Maclure. Just pile in and make
yourselves at home; and excuse meI hain't quite got through
oilin' 'round yet.
Thank you, said Brockway; then to Gertrude: We must find your
father or Mrs. Dunham quick; we haven't more than a minute or two.
They ran back and fortunately came upon Mrs. Dunham and the
Cousin Jeannette, I'm going to ride on the engine with Mr.
Brockway, Gertrude explained, breathlessly. Don't say I sha'n't, for
I will. It's the chance of a lifetime. Good-by; and don't sit up for
I'll take good care of her, Brockway put in; and before the
astonished lady could expostulate or approve, they were scudding
forward to the 926.
VIII. THE CAB OF THE TEN-WHEELER
Engineer Maclure was leaning out of the cab window, watching for the
conductor's signal, when Brockway and Gertrude came up.
Didn't know but you'd backed out, he said, jocosely, when they had
Oh, no, indeed; we had to get word to my father, said Gertrude.
The engineer waved them across the cab. Make yourselves at home;
the 926 belongs to you as long as you want to own her. Just you
pre-empt Johnnie's box over there, Fred, and make the young lady
Brockway stuck a propitiatory cigar into the pocket of the fireman's
jumper, and proceeded to carry out his instructions. Before the tardy
signal came, Gertrude was perched upon the high seat, with her skirts
gathered up out of harm's way, and Brockway had fashioned a pad out of
a bunch of waste and tied it upon the boiler-head brace at her feet.
It's hot, he explained. When she begins to roll you can put your
foot against that and steady yourself. Are you quite comfortable?
Quite; and you? She looked over her shoulder to ask the question,
and the strong red glow from the open door of the fire-box glorified
the sweet face.
Comfortable? No, that is hardly the word for ithe tried the
window-fastening, that he might have an excuse for bending over
herI'm happy; happy to my finger-tips. Do you know why?
He sought to look up into her face, but at that moment the red glow
of the fire-light went out suddenly with the crash of the closing door,
and the clangor of the bell made her reply inaudible. None the less, by
the dim, half light of the gauge-lamp he saw her eyelashes droop and
her lips say No.
For a passing instant the social barriers went down and became as
though they never were. Standing beside her and blessing the clamor
that isolated them, he said:
Because I am here with you; because, no matter what happens to
either of us in the future, no one can ever rob me of this.
He half expected a rebuke, and waited a moment with becoming
humility. When it did not come, he swung himself into the seat behind
her and held his peace until she spoke again. That was five full
minutes afterward. For that length of time Gertrude was crushed under
an avalanche of new sensations. The last switch-light in the Carvalho
yards had flashed to the rear, and the 926 was quickening her speed
with sharp little forward lunges under Maclure's skilful goading. The
dizzying procession of grayish-white telegraph-poles hurling itself
past the cab windows; the thousand clangorous voices of the great
machine; the intermittent glare from the fire-box door, alternating
with the fiery shower of sparks pouring from the smoke-stackit was a
bit of pandemonium detached and dashing through space, and she sat
cowed and stunned by the rush and the uproar. But presently the warm
wine of excitement began to quicken her heart-beats.
Isn't it glorious! she exclaimed, trying to look back at him.
It is quite possible for two persons to converse in the cab of a
flying locomotive, but the factor of distance must be eliminated.
Wherefore he bent over her till his mustache brushed the pink ear.
I am glad you like it. Are you still quite comfortable?
Yes, indeed; thank you. How fast are we going now?
About twenty-five miles an hour; but we'll double that when Maclure
gets her warmed up.
Double it! Why, we seem to be fairly flying now!
Wait, said Brockway.
Maclure was sitting sphynx-like on his box, coming to life now and
then to reduce the angle of the reversing-lever, or to increase that of
the throttle. The fireman labored steadily, swaying back and forth
between the coal-chute and the fire-box door, his close-fitting cap on
the back of his head, and Brockway's cigar,unlighted, in deference to
Gertrude,between his teeth.
What dreadfully hard work it must be to shovel coal that way all
night, Gertrude said, following the rhythmic swing of the fireman's
sinewy figure with her eyes.
He's getting his fire into shape, now, Brockway explained. He'll
have it easier after a bit.
Why doesn't he smoke his cigar?
Brockway smiled. Because, down under the grime and coal-dust and
other disguises, there is a drop or two of gentle blood, I fancy.
You mean it's because I'm here? Please tell him to light his cigar,
if he wants to.
Brockway obeyed, and the fireman unbent and bobbed his head in
Gertrude's direction. Thank ye, ma'am, he shouted, with a
good-natured grin on his boyish face; but I'm thinkin' a dhry smoke's
good enough for the lady's carand he bent to his work again, while
the endless procession of telegraph-poles hurtled past with
ever-increasing swiftness, and the sharp blasts of the exhaust lost
their intermittence, and became blent in a continuous roar.
Presently, the laboring engine began to heave and roll like a
storm-tossed vessel, and Gertrude was fain to make use of the
foot-rest. Being but a novice, she made unskilful work of it; and when
her foot slipped for the third time, Brockway took his courage in both
Just lean back and brace yourself against my shoulder, he said;
I'm afraid you'll get a fall.
She did it, and he held himself in watchful readiness to catch her
if she should lose her balance.
Is that better?
She nodded. Much better, thank you. Have we doubled it yet?
Brockway took out his watch and timed the revolutions of the flying
drive-wheels. Not quite, but we're bettering the schedule by several
miles. Do you still enjoy it?
Yes, much; but it's very dreadful, isn't it? I don't see how he
Yes; or anyone else. To me it seems braver than anything I ever
read ofto drive a great thing like this with so many precious lives
behind it. The responsibility must be terrible.
It would be if a fellow thought of it all the time; but one
doesn't, you know. Now I'll venture a guess that Mac is just
speculating as to how much of the 'Kestrel's' lost time he can get back
between this and the end of his run.
But the shrewd old pioneer with the Scottish name was thinking of no
such prosaic thing. On the contrary, he was wondering who Miss Vennor
was; if she would be a worthy helpmate for the passenger agent; and if
so, how he could help matters along.
The switch-lights of Arriba were twinkling in the distance, and his
hand was on the whistle-lever, when the engineer reached a conclusion.
The next instant Gertrude shrieked and would have tumbled ignominiously
into the fireman's scoop if Brockway had not caught her.
How silly of me! she said, shame-facedly. One would think I had
never heard a locomotive whistle before. But it was so totally
I should have warned you, but I didn't think. This is Arriba; do
you want to go back?
Gertrude was enjoying herself keenly, after a certain barbaric and
unfettered fashion hitherto undreamed of, and she was tempted to drink
a little deeper from the cup of freedom before going back to the
proprieties. Moreover, there was doubtless a goodly measure of reproof
awaiting her, and when she remembered this, she determined to get the
full value of the castigation.
I'll go on, if you'll let me, she said.
Let you! Brockway had been trembling for fear his little bubble of
joy was about to burst, and would have multiplied words. But before he
could say more, the 926 thundered past the station and came to a stand.
Maclure released the air-brake, and clambering down from his box,
dragged the passenger agent from his seat and so out to the gangway.
Say, Fred, is she goin' back? he whispered.
No, not just yet.
Bully for her; she's got sand, she has. Reckon you could run a
spell and talk to her at the same time?
Brockway's nerves tingled at the bare suggestion. Try me and see,
It's a go, said Maclure. Get her over there on my side, and I'll
smoke me a pipe out o' Johnnie's window. Swear to bob I won't look
IX. FIFTY MILES AN HOUR
Let me promote you, Miss Vennor, Brockway said, helping Gertrude
to the foot-board; Mr. Maclure says you may have his seat for awhile.
Gertrude acquiesced unquestioningly. For some cause as yet
unclassified, acquiescence seemed to be quite the proper thing when she
was with Brockway, though docility with others was not her most
remarkable characteristic. When she was safely bestowed, Maclure rang
the bell and gave Brockway his instructions.
Next stop's Red Buttetwenty-seven milesthirty-eight minutes o'
card-timeno allowance for slowin' down at Corral Siding. And if you
can twist 'em any quicker, do it. Turn her loose.
The engineer betook himself to the fireman's box, and Brockway's
resolution was taken on the spur of the moment.
Do just as I tell you, Miss Vennor, and I'll give you a brand-new
experience, he said, quickly. Take hold of this lever and pullboth
Gertrude did it simply because she was told to, and it was not until
the engine lunged forward that she understood what it was she was
doing. Oh, Mr. BrockwayI can't! she cried; it won't mind me!
Yes, it will; I'll show you how. Push it back a little; you mustn't
tear your fire. There; let her make a few turns at that.
Gertrude clung to the throttle as if she were afraid it was alive
and would escape, but her eyes sparkled and the flush of excitement
mounted swiftly to cheek and brow.
Now give her a little morejust a notch or twothat's enough. You
needn't hold it; it won't run away, Brockway said, laughing at her.
I shall go daft if I don't hold something! Oh, please, Mr.
Brockway! I know I shall smash everything into little bits!
No, you won't; I sha'n't let you. A little more steam, if you
please; that's right. Now take hold of this lever with both hands,
brace yourself and pull steadily.
The reversing-lever of a big ten-wheeler is no child's plaything,
and he stood ready to help her if she could not manage it. But Miss
Vennor did manage it, though the first notch or two had to be fought
for; and Maclure, who had quite forgotten his promise not to look on,
Good! said Brockway, approvingly; you are doing famously. Now a
little more throttle; that's enough.
The 926 forged ahead obediently, and Gertrude began to enter into
the spirit of the thing.
This is simply Titanic! she exclaimed. What shall I do next?
Cut her back a little more, Brockway commanded; two notches. Now
a little more steammore yet; that will do.
The great engine lunged forward like a goaded animal, and Gertrude
sat up very straight and clung to the reversing-lever when the cab
began to lurch and sway. But she obeyed Brockway's directions promptly
Don't be afraid of her, he said. You have a clear track and a
I'm not afraid, she asserted; I'm miles beyond that, now. If
anything should happen, we'd all be dead before we found it out, so I
can be perfectly reckless.
Mile after mile of the level plain swept backward under the drumming
wheels, and Brockway's heart made music within him because it had some
little fragment of its desire. In order to see the track through the
front window of the cab, he had to lean his elbow on the cushion beside
her, and it brought them very nearnearer, he thought, than they would
ever be again.
Gertrude was much too full of the magnitude of things to care to
talk, but she was finally moved to ask another question.
Are we really running along on the rails just like any well-behaved
train? It seems to me we must have left the track quite a while ago.
Brockway laughed. You would know it, if we had. Do you see those
two little yellow lights away out ahead?
Yes; what are they?
They are the switch-lights at Corral Siding. Take hold of this
lever and blow the whistle yourself; then it won't startle you so
Gertrude did that, also, although it was more trying to her nerves
than all that had gone before. Then Brockway showed her how to reduce
Push the throttle in as far as it will go; that's right. Now the
reversing-leverboth hands, and brace yourselfthat's it. Now take
hold of this handle and twist it that wayslowlymore yet the air
whistled shrilly through the vent, and the song of the brake-shoes on
the wheels of the train rose above the discordant clangorthat will
doturn it back, he added, when the speed had slackened sufficiently;
and he leaned forward with his hand on the brake-lever and scanned the
approaching side-track with practised eyes.
All clear! he announced, springing back quickly. Pull up this
lever again, and give her steam.
Gertrude obeyed like an automaton, though she blenched a little when
the small station building at the Siding roared past, and in a few
seconds the 926 was again bettering the schedule.
How fast are we going now? she asked, when the engine was once
more pitching and rolling like a laboring ship.
Brockway consulted his watch. A little over fifty miles an hour, I
should say. You will be quite safe in calling it that, anyway, when you
tell your friends that you have run a fast express train.
They'll never believe it, she said; but I wouldn't have missed it
for the world. What must I do now?watch the track?
Brockway said Yes, though, with all his interest in other things,
he had not omitted that very important part of an engineer's duty from
the moment of leaving Arriba. After a roaring silence of some minutes,
during which Brockway gave himself once more to the divided business of
scanning the rails and burning sweet incense on the altar of his love,
she spoke again.
What is that we are coming to, away out there? she asked, trying
vainly to steady herself for a clearer view.
The lights of Red Butte, he answered, relaxing his vigilance for
the moment at the thought that his little side-trip into the land of
joy would so shortly come to an end.
No, I don't mean those! she exclaimed, excitedly; but this side
of the lights. Don't you see?on the track!
Brockway allowed himself but a single swift glance. Half-way between
the flying train and the station the line crossed a shallow sand creek
on a low trestle. On both sides of the swale, crowding upon the track
and filling the bed of the creek, was a mass of moving forms, against
which the lines of glistening rails ended abruptly.
At such a crisis, the engineer in a man, if any there be, asserts
itself without reference to the volitional nerve-centres. In the
turning of a leaf, Brockway had thrown himself upon the throttle,
dropped the reversing-lever, set the air-brake, and opened the
sand-box; while Maclure, seeing that his substitute was equal to the
emergency, woke the echoes with the whistle. A hundred yards from the
struggling mass of frightened cattle, Brockway saw that the air-brake
was not holding.
Don't move! he cried; and Gertrude cowered in her corner as the
heavy reversing-lever came over with a crash, and the great engine
heaved and buckled in the effort to check its own momentum.
It was all over before she could cry out or otherwise advertise her
very natural terror. The moving mass had melted away before the
measured approach of the train; the trestle had rumbled under the
wheels; and the 926 was steaming swiftly up to the station under
Have you had more than enough? he asked, when he had brought the
train to a stand opposite the platform at Red Butte.
Yesno, not that, either, she added, quickly. I'm glad to have
had a taste of the real danger as well. But I think I'd better go back;
it's getting late, isn't it?
Yes. Mac, we resign. Sorry I had to put your old tea-kettle in the
back-gear; but the air wasn't holding, and we didn't want any chipped
beef for supper. Good-night, and many thanks. Don't pull out till I
give you the signal.
They hurried down the platform arm-in-arm, and Gertrude was the
first to speak.
Didn't you think we were all going to be killed?
No; but I did think I should never forgive myself if anything
happened to you.
It wouldn't have been your fault. And I've had a glorious bit of
distraction; I shall remember it as long as I live.
Yes; you have actually driven a train fifty miles an hour, laughed
Brockway, handing her up the steps of car Naught-fifty.
I have; and now I shall go in and be scolded eighty miles an hour
to pay for it. But I sha'n't mind that. Good-night, and thank you ever
so much. We shall see you in the morning?
Yes. Brockway said it confidently, and gave a tug at the
bell-cord, to let Maclure know they were safely aboard; but when the
door of the private car had yawned and swallowed Miss Vennor, he
remembered the President's probable frame of mind, and thought it
X. A CONFIDENCE EN ROUTE
When Brockway pulled the bell-cord, he meant to drop off and wait
till the Tadmor came alonga manoeuvre which would enable him to
rejoin his party without intruding on the President's privacy. Then
that reflection about Mr. Vennor's probable frame of mind, and the
thought that the late excursion into the fair country of joy would
doubtless never be repeated, came to delay him, and he let the train
get under way before he remembered what it was that he had intended
doing. Whereupon, he scoffed at his own infatuation, and went into the
Ariadne to chat with the Burtons until another halt should give him a
chance to get back to the Tadmor.
The route to the body of the car led past the smoking-room, and the
passenger agent, having missed his after-dinner cigar, was minded to
turn aside. But the place was crowded, and he hung hesitant upon the
Come in, said Burton, who was one of the smokers.
No, I believe not; there are too many of you. I'll go and talk to
Do; she's spoiling to quiz you.
To quiz me? What about?
You wouldn't expect me to tell, if I knew. Go on and find out.
Brockway went forward with languid curiosity.
I thought you had quite deserted us, said the little lady. Sit
down and give an account of yourself. Where have you been all
With my ancients and invalids, Brockway replied.
Mrs. Burton shook a warning finger at him. Don't begin by telling
me fibs. Miss Vennor is neither old nor infirm.
Brockway reddened and made a shameless attempt to change the
How did you like the supper at Carvalho? he asked.
The general agent's wife laughed as one who refuses to be diverted.
Neither better nor worse than you did. We had a buffet luncheonbaked
beans and that exquisite tomato-catchup, you knowserved in our
section, and we saw one act of a charming little comedy playing itself
on the platform at the supper station. Be nice and tell me all about
it. Did the cold-blooded gentleman with the overseeing eyes succeed in
Brockway saw it was no use, and laughed good-naturedly. You are a
born detective, Mrs. Burton; I wouldn't be in Burton's shoes for a farm
in the Golden Belt, he retorted. How much did you really see, and how
much did you take for granted?
I saw a young man, who didn't take the trouble to keep his emotions
out of his face, marching up and down the platform with Miss Vennor on
his arm. Then I saw an elderly gentleman pacing back and forth between
two feminine chatterboxes, and trying to outgeneral the two happy
people. Naturally, I want to know more. Did you really go without your
supper to take a constitutional with Miss Gertrude? And did the unhappy
father contrive to spoil your tête-à-tête?
There was triumph in Brockway's grin.
No, he didn'tnot that time; I out-witted him. And I didn't go
without my supper, either. I had the honor of dining with the
President's party in the Naught-fifty.
You did! Then I'm sure she must have invited you; he'd never
do it. How did it happen?
Brockway told the story of the disabled cooking-stove, and Mrs.
Burton laughed till the tears came. How perfectly ridiculous! she
exclaimed, between gasps. And she took your part and invited you to
dinner, did she? Then what happened?
I was properly humiliated and sat upon, said Brockway, in wrathful
recollection. They talked about everything under the sun that I'd
never heard of, and I had to sit through it all like a confounded
Oh, nonsense! said Mrs. Burton, sweetly; you know a good many
things that they never dreamed of. But how did you manage to get
Gertrude away from them all?
I didn't; she managed it for me. When we got up from the table the
train was just slowing into Carvalho. I was going to run away, as
befitted me, but she proposed a breath of fresh air on the platform.
Then you had a chance to show her that you weren't born dumb, and I
hope you improved it. But how did you dodge Mr. Vennor?
We missed a turn and went forward to look at the engine. Then
GerMiss Vennor thought she would like to take a ride in the cab,
And, of course, you arranged it. You knew that was just the thing
of all others that would reinstate you. It was perfectly
Brockway opened his eyes very wide. Knew what? he said, bluntly.
I only knew it was the thing she wanted to do, and that was enough.
Well, we skipped back and notified Mrs. Dunhamshe's the chaperon, you
knowand then we chased ahead again and got on the engine.
Where I'll promise you she enjoyed more new sensations in a minute
than you had all through their chilly dinner, put in Mrs. Burton, who
had ridden on many locomotives.
She did, indeed, Brockway rejoined, exultantly, living over again
the pleasure of the brief hour in the retelling. At Arriba, the
engineer turned the 926 over to me, and I put Miss Vennor up on the box
and let her run between Arriba and Red Butte.
Wellof all things! Do you know, Fred, I've had a silly idea all
afternoon that I'd like to help you, but dear me! you don't need my
help. Of course, after that, it was all plain sailing for you.
Brockway shook his head. You're taking entirely too much for
granted, he protested. It was only a pleasant bit of 'distraction,'
as she called it, for her, and there was no wordthat is Ioh,
confound it all! I couldn't presume on a bit of good comradeship like
Youcouldn'tpresume! Why, you silly, silly boy, it was
the chance of a lifetime! So daringly originalso utterly unhackneyed!
And you couldn't presumeI haven't a bit of patience with you.
I'm sorry for that; I need a little sympathy.
You don't deserve it; but perhaps you'd get it if you could show
Can't you see? Don't you understand that nothing can ever come of
it? Brockway demanded, relapsing fathoms deep into the abyss of
Nothing ever will come of it if you go on squandering your chances
as you have to-day. What is the matter with you? Are you afraid of the
elderly gentleman with the calculating eye?
Not exactly afraid of him; but he's a millionnaire, and Miss Vennor
has a fortune in her own right. And I
Don't finish it. I understand your objection; you are poor and
proudand that's as it should be; but tell meyou are in love with
Miss Vennor, aren't you? When did it begin?
A year ago.
You didn't permit yourself to fall in love with her until you knew
all about her circumstances and prospects, of course?
You know better than that. It wasit was what you'd call love at
first sight, he confessed, rather shame-facedly; and then he told her
how it began.
Very good, said Mrs. Burton, approvingly. Then you did actually
manage to fall in love with Gertrude herself, and not with her money.
But now, because you've found out she has money, you are going to spoil
your chance of happiness, and possibly hers. Is that it?
Brockway tried to explain. It's awfully good of you to try to put
it in that light, but no one would ever believe that I wasn't
mercenarythat I wasn't a shameless cad of a fortune-hunter. I
couldn't stand that, you know.
No, of course not; not even for her sake. Besides, she doubtless
looks upon you as a fortune-hunter, and
What? Indeed she doesn't anything of the kind.
Well, then, if you are sure she doesn't misjudge you, what do you
care for the opinion of the world at large?
Much; when you show me a man who doesn't care for public opinion,
I'll show you one who ought to be in jail.
Fudge! Please don't try to hide behind platitudes. But about
Gertrude, and your little affair, which is no affair; what are you
going to do about it?
Nothing; there is nothing at all to be done, Brockway replied with
I suppose nothing would ever induce you to forgive her for being
I can never quite forgive myself for being poor, since it's going
to cost me so much.
You are too equivocal for any use. Answer my question, snapped the
How can I? Brockway inquired, with masculine density. Forgiveness
implies an injury, and
Oh, ohhow stupid you can be when you try! You know
perfectly well what I mean.
I'm not sure that I do, said Brockway, whose wit was easily
confounded by a sharp tongue.
Then I'll put it in words of one syllable. Do you mean to ask Miss
Vennor to be your wife?
I couldn't, and keep my self-respect.
Not if you knew she wanted you to? persisted the small tormentor.
Oh, I saythat couldn't be, you know, he protested. I'm nothing
more than a pleasant acquaintance to her, at the very most.
But if you knew she did?
How could I know it?
We are not discussing ways and means; answer the question.
Thereat the man, tempted beyond what he could bear, abdicated in
favor of the lover. If I could be certain of that, Mrs. Burtonif I
could be sure she loves me, nothing on earth should stand in the way of
our happiness. Is that what you wanted me to say?
The little lady clapped her hands enthusiastically. I thought I
could find the joint in your armor, after awhile. Now you may go; I
want to be by myself and think. Good-night.
Brockway took the summary dismissal good-naturedly, and, as the
train was just then slowing into a station, he ran out to drop off and
catch the upcoming hand-rail of the Tadmor.
XI. AN ARRIVAL IN TRANSIT
When Gertrude bade Brockway good-night, she changed places for the
moment with a naughty child on its way to face the consequences of a
misbehavior, entering the private car with a childish consciousness of
wrong-doing fighting for place with a rather militant determination to
meet reproof with womanly indifference. Much to her relief, she found
her father alone, and there was no distinguishable note of displeasure
in his greeting.
Well, Gertrude, did you enjoy your little diversion? Sit down and
tell me about it. How does the cab compare with the sitting-room of a
The greeting was misleading, but she saw fit to regard it as merely
the handshaking which precedes a battle royal.
I enjoyed it much, she answered, quietly. It was very exciting;
and very interesting, too.
Ah; I presume so. And your escort took good care of youmade you
quite comfortable, I suppose.
Mr. Vennor leaned back in his chair and regarded her gravely through
the swirls of blue smoke curling upward from his cigar. Didn't it
strike you as being ratheraha girlish thing for you to do? in the
night, you know, and with a comparative stranger?
Gertrude thought the battle was about to open, and began to throw up
hasty fortifications. Mr. Brockway is not a stranger; you may remember
that we became quite well acquainted
Pardon me, the President interrupted; that is precisely the point
at which I wished to arriveyour present estimate of this young man. I
have nothing to say about your little diversion on the engine. You are
old enough to settle these small questions of the proprieties for
yourself. But touching this young mechanic, it might be as well for us
to understand each other. Have you fully considered the probable
consequences of your most singular infatuation?
It was a ruthless question, and the hot blood of resentment set its
signals flying in Gertrude's cheeks. Up to that evening, she had
thought of the passenger agent only as an agreeable young man of a
somewhat unfamiliar type, of whom she would like to know more; but
Brockway's moment of abandonment in the cab of the 926 had planted a
seed which threatened to germinate quickly in the warmth of the present
I'm not quite sure that I understand you, she said, picking and
choosing among the phrases for the least incendiary. Would you mind
telling me in so many words, just what you mean?
Not in the least. A year ago you met this young man in a most
casual way, andto put it rather brutallyfell in love with him. I
haven't the slightest idea that he cares anything for you in your
proper person, or that he would have thrust himself upon us to-day if
he had known that your private fortune hangs upon the event of your
marriage under certain conditions which you evidently purpose to
ignore. If, after the object-lesson you had at the dinner-table this
evening, you still prefer this young fortune-hunter to your cousin
Chester, I presume we shall all have to submit; but you ought at least
to tell us what we are to expect.
If he had spared the epithets, she could have laughed at the
baseless fabric of supposition, but the contemptuous sentence passed
upon Brockway put her quickly upon his defence, and, incidentally, did
more to further that young man's cause than any other happening of that
I suppose you have a right to say and think what you please about
me, she said, trying vainly to be dispassionate; but you might spare
Mr. Brockway. He didn't invite himself to dinner; and it was I who
proposed the walk on the platform and the ride on the engine.
Humph! you are nothing if not loyal. Nevertheless, I wish you might
look the facts squarely in the face.
Gertrude knew there were no facts, of the kind he meant, but his
persistence brought forth fruit after its kind, and she stubbornly
resolved to neither affirm nor deny. Wherefore she said, a little
I'm quite willing to listen to anything you wish to say.
Then I should like to ask if you have counted the cost. Assuming
that this young man's intentions are unmercenaryand I doubt that very
muchit isn't possible that there can be anything in common between
you. The social world in which you move, and that to which he belongs,
are as widely separated as the poles. I do not say yours is the higher
plane, or his the lowerthough I may have my own opinion as to
thatbut I do say they are vastly different; and the woman who
knowingly marries out of her class has much to answer for. Admitting
that you will do no worse than this, how can you hope to find anything
congenial in a man who has absolutely nothing to say for himself at an
ordinary family dinner-table?
I'm not at all sure that Mr. Brockway hadn't anything to say for
himself, though he couldn't be expected to know or care much about the
things we talked of. And it occurred to me at the time that it wasn't
quite kind in us to talk intellectual shop from the soup to the
dessert, as we did.
The President smiled, but the cold eyes belied the outward
manifestation of kindliness. You may thank me for that, if you
choose, he went on, in the same calm argumentative tone. I wanted to
point a moral, and if I didn't succeed, it wasn't the fault of the
subject. But that is only the social side; a question of taste.
Unfortunately, there is a more serious matter to be considered. You
know the terms of your granduncle's will; that your Cousin Fleetwell's
half of the estate became his unconditionally on his coming of age, and
that your portion is only a trust until your marriage with your
I ought to know; it's been talked of enough.
And you know that if the marriage fail by your act, you will lose
And that it will go to certain charitable institutions, and so be
lost, not only to you, but to the family?
I know all about it.
You know it, and yet you would deliberately throw yourself away on
a fortune-hunting mechanica man whom you have known only since
yesterday? It's incredible!
It is you who have said itnot I, she retorted; but I'm not
willing to admit that it would be all loss and no gain. There would at
least be a brand-new set of sensations, and I'm very sure they wouldn't
all be painful.
It was rebellion, pure and simple, and for once in his life Francis
Vennor gave place to wrathplebeian wrath, vociferous and undignified.
Shame on you! he cried; you are a disgrace to the nameit's the
blood of that cursed socialist on your mother's side. Sit still and
listen to me Gertrude, knowing her own temper, was about to run
awayIf you marry that infernal upstart, you'll do it at your own
expense, do you hear? You sha'n't finger a penny of my money as long as
I can keep you out of it. Do you understand?
I should be very dull if I didn't understand, she replied,
preparing to make good her retreat. If you are quite through, perhaps
you will let me say that you are tilting at a windmill of your own
building. So far as I know, Mr. Brockway hasn't the slightest intention
of asking me to marry him; and until you took the trouble to
demonstrate the possibility, I don't think it ever occurred to me. But
after what you've said, I don't think I can ever consent to be married
to Cousin Chesterit would be too mercenary, you know; and with this
parting shot she vanished.
In the privacy of her own stateroom she sat at the window to think
it all out. It was all very undutiful, doubtless, and she was sorry for
her part in the quarrel almost before the words were cold. She could
scarcely forgive herself for having allowed her father to carry his
assumption to such lengths, but the temptation had proved irresistible.
It was such a delicious little farce, and if it might only have stopped
short of the angry conclusionbut it had not, and therein lay the
sting of it. Whereupon, feeling the sting afresh, she set her face
flintwise against the prearranged marriage.
I sha'n't do it, she said aloud, pressing her hot cheek against
the cool glass of the window. I don't love Chester, and I never
shallnot in the way I should. And if I marry him, I shall be just
what papa called Mr. Brockwayonly he isn't that, or anything of the
kind. Poor Mr. Brockway! If he knew what we have been talking
From that point reflection went adrift in pleasanter channels. How
good-natured and forgiving Mr. Brockway had been! He must have known
that he was purposely ignored at the dinner-table, where he was an
invited guest, and yet he had not resented it; and what better proof of
gentle breeding than this could he have given? Then, in that crucial
moment of danger, how surely his presence of mind and trained energies
had forestalled the catastrophe. That was grandheroic. It was well
worth its cost in terror to look on and see him strive with and conquer
the great straining monster of iron and steel. After that, one couldn't
well listen calmly to such things as her father had said of him.
And, admitting the truth of what had been said about his
intellectual shortcomings, was a certain glib familiarity with the
modern catch-words of book-talk and art criticism a fair test of
intellectuality? Gertrude, with her cheek still touching the cool
window-pane, thought not. One might read the reviews and talk
superficially of more books than the most painstaking student could
ever know, even by sight. In like manner, one might walk through the
picture galleries and come away freighted with great names wherewith to
awe the untravelled lover of art. It was quite evident that Mr.
Brockway had done neither of these things, and yet he was thoughtful
and keenly observant; and if he were ignorant of art, he knew and
understood nature, which is the mother of all art.
From reinstating the passenger agent in his rights and privileges as
a man, she came presently upon the little incident in the cab of the
926. How much or how little did he mean when he said he was happy to
his finger-tips? On the lips of the men of her world, such sayings went
for naught; they were but the tennis-balls of persiflage, served
deftly, and with the intent that they should rebound harmless. But she
felt sure that such a definition went wide of Mr. Brockway's meaning;
of compliments as such, he seemed to know less than nothing. And then
he had said that whatever came between themno, that was not
itwhatever happened to either of them.... Ah, well, many things might
happenwould doubtless happen; but she would not forget, either.
The familiar sighing of the air-brake began again, and the low
thunder of the patient wheels became the diapason beneath the shrill
song of the brake-shoes. Then the red eye of a switch-lamp glanced in
at Gertrude's window, and the train swung slowly up to the platform at
another prairie hamlet. Just before it stopped, she caught a swift
glimpse of a man standing with outstretched arms, as if in mute appeal.
It was Brockway. He was merely standing in readiness to grasp the
hand-rail of the Tadmor when it should reach him; but Gertrude knew it
not, and if she had, it would have made no difference. It was the one
fortuitous touch needed to open that inner chamber of her heart,
closed, hitherto, even to her own consciousness. And when the door was
opened she looked within and saw what no woman sees but once in her
life, and having once seen, will die unwed in very truth if any man but
one call her wife.
Once more the drumming wheels began the overture; the lighted
bay-window of the station slipped backward into the night, and the
bloodshot eye of another switch-lamp peered in at the window and was
gone; but Gertrude neither saw nor heard. The things of time and place
were around and about her, but not within. A new song was in her heart,
its words inarticulate as yet, but its harmonies singing with the music
of the spheres. A little later, when the Flying Kestrel was again in
mid-flitting, and the separate noises of the train had sunk into the
soothing under-roar, she crept into her berth wet-eyed and thankful,
and presently went to sleep too happy to harbor anxious thought for the
morrow of uncertainties.
XII. THE ANCIENTS AND INVALIDS
Brockway was up betimes the following morning, though not of his own
free will. Two hours before the Flying Kestrel was due in Denver, the
porter of the Tadmor awakened him at the command of the irascible
gentleman with the hock-bottle shoulders and diaphanous nose. While the
passenger agent was sluicing his face in the wash-room some one prodded
him from behind, and a thin, high-pitched voice wedged itself into the
Mr. ahBrockway; I understand that you are purposing to take the
party to ahFeather Plume or ahSilver Feather, or some such place
to-day, and I ahprotest! I have no desire to leave Denver until my
ticket is made to conform to my stipulations, sir.
Brockway had soap in his eyes, and the porter had carefully hidden
the towels; for which cause his reply was brief and to the point.
Please wait till I get washed and dressed before you begin on me,
Wait? Do you say ahwait? I have been doing nothing but wait, sir,
ever since my ahstipulations were ignored. It's an outrage, sir,
Brockway had found a towel and was using it vigorously as a
For Heaven's sake, go away and let me alone until I can get my
clothes on! he exclaimed. I promised you yesterday you should have
the thirty days that you don't need.
The aggrieved one had his ticket out, but he put it away again in
tremulous indignation. Go away? Did I ahunderstand you to tell me to
go away, sir? I ah-h-h but words failed him, and he shuffled out
of the wash-room, cannoning against the little gentleman in the
grass-cloth duster and velvet skull-cap in the angle of the vestibule.
Good-morning, Mr. Brockway, said the comforter, cheerily. Been
having a tilt with Mr. Ticket-limits to begin the day with?
Oh, as a matter of course, Brockway replied, flinging the damp
towel into a corner, and brushing his hair as one who transmutes wrath
into vigorous action.
Find him a bit trying, don't you? What particular form does his
mania take this morning?
It's the same old thing. I promised him, yesterday, I'd get the
extension on his ticket, and now he says he won't leave Denver till
it's done. He 'ah-protests' that I sha'n't go to Silver Plume with the
party; wants me to stay in Denver and put in the day telegraphing.
Of course, you'll do it; you do anything anybody asks you to.
Oh, I suppose I'll have toto keep the peace. And if I don't go
and 'personally conduct' the others, there'll be the biggest kind of a
row. Isn't it enough to wear the patience of a good-natured angel to
It is, just that. Have a cigar?
No, thank you. I don't smoke before breakfast.
Neither do I, normally; but like most other people, I leave all my
good habits at home when I travel. But about Jordan and the thirty-odd;
how are you going to dodge the row?
The best way I can. There is a good friend of mine on the
trainMr. John Burton, the general agent of the C. & U., in Salt
Lakeand perhaps I can get him to go up the canyon for me.
Think he will do it?
I guess so; to oblige me. He'd lose only a day; and he'd make
thirty-odd friends for the C. & U., don't you see.
I must confess that I don't see, from a purely business point of
view, was the rejoinder. We are all ticketed out and back, and we
can't change our route if we want to.
Brockway laughed. The business of passenger soliciting is
far-reaching. Some of youperhaps most of youwill go again next
year; and if the general agent of the C. & U. is particularly kind and
obliging, you may remember his line.
Dear mewhy, of course! You say your friend is on the train?
Very well; you go and see him, and I'll help you out by breaking
the news to the thirty-odd.
Brockway struggled into his coat and shook hands with the friendly
one. Mr. Somers, you're my good angel. You've undertaken a thankless
The womanish face under the band of the skull-cap broke into a smile
which was not altogether angelic. I shall get my pay as I go along;
our friend with the bad case of ticket dementia will be carrying the
entire responsibility for your absence before I get through.
Good! pile it on thick, said Brockway, chuckling. Make 'em
understand that I'd give all my old shoes to gothat I'm so angry with
Jordan for spoiling my day's pleasure that I can't see straight.
I'll do it, the little man agreed. Take a cigar to smoke after
breakfastand the gray duster and velvet skull-cap disappeared
forthwith around the angle in the vestibule.
Not until he was ready to seek Burton did the passenger agent
recollect that the Naught-fifty was between the Tadmor and the Ariadne,
and that it would be the part of prudence to go around rather than
through the President's car. When he did remember it he stepped out
into the vestibule of the Tadmor to get a breath of fresh air while he
waited for the train to come to a station. Mrs. Dunham was on the
Naught-fifty's rear platform, and she nodded, smiled, and beckoned him
to come across.
I'm glad to know that somebody else besides a curious old woman
cares enough for this grand scenery to get up early in the morning,
she said, pleasantly.
You mustn't make me ashamed, Brockway rejoined. I'm afraid I
should have been sound asleep this minute if I hadn't been routed out
by one of my people.
Mrs. Dunham smiled. Gertrude was telling me about some of your
troubles. Do they get you up early in the morning to ask you foolish
They do, indeedand Brockway, glad enough to find a sympathetic
listener, told the story of the pertinacious human gadfly masquerading
under the name of Jordan.
Dear, dear! How unreasonable! Will you have to give up the Silver
Plume trip and stay in Denver with him?
I suppose so. I'm going forward presently to try to get Mr. Burton
and his wife to take my place with the party for the day.
Not Mr. John Burton, of the Colorado & Utah?
Yes; do you know him?
Only through Gertrude; she met them when she was out here last
year, and she likes Mrs. Burton very much indeed.
I'm glad of that, said Brockway, with great naïveté; they
are very good friends of mine.
In the pause that succeeded he was reminded that his way and
Gertrude's would shortly diverge again, and in the face of that thought
he could not well help asking questions.
I suppose you are going straight on to Utah, he said, not daring
to hope for a negative reply.
Not to-day. I believe it is Mr. Vennor's plan to go on to-morrow
When he realized what this meant for him, Brockway forgave his evil
genius in the Tadmor. Then he gasped to think how near he had come to
missing his last chance of seeing Gertrude. But he must know more of
the movements of the President's party.
Will you go to a hotel? he inquired.
I think not. I heard Mr. Vennor order dinner in the car, so I
presume we shall make it our headquarters during the day.
Brockway reflected that the private car would doubtless be
side-tracked on the spur near the telegraph office in the Union Depot,
and wrote it down that prearrangement itself could do no more. When the
train drew up at Bovalley a little later, he excused himself and ran
quickly forward to board the Ariadne. Come what might, Burton must be
over-persuaded; the thirty-odd must be given no chance to defeat the
Heaven-born opportunity made possible by the pertinacity of the gadfly.
So marched the intention, but the fates willed delay. Bovalley is
but a flag-station, and the passenger agent had barely time to swing up
to the rear platform of the regular sleeper when the train moved on.
Then he found that he had circumvented one obstacle only to be hampered
by another. The rear door of the Ariadne was locked, and the electric
bell was out of repair. Wherefore it was forty minutes later, and
Denver was in sight, when the rear brakeman opened the door and
XIII. BETWEEN STATIONS
When Mrs. Dunham returned to the central compartment of the
Naught-fifty, the waiter was laying the table for breakfast, and the
President was looking on with the steadfast gaze which disconcerts.
Good-morning, Cousin Jeannette. Up early to see the scenery, are
you? The genial greeting had no hint in it of inward disquietude, past
Yes, and I wish I had been earlier. I have been out on the platform
watching the mountains grow.
Grand, isn't it? You might have had a better view if our car had
been left in its proper place in the rear; but our friend the passenger
agent took good care to secure that for his own party.
Mrs. Dunham was inclined to be charitable. I fancy he couldn't help
it. From what he tells me, his people must be very exacting.
Have you seen him this morning? the President inquired, with some
small show of curiosity.
Yes; out on the platform. He has been telling me some of his
The President smiled indulgently. I suspect our young friend has
fallen into a habit of magnifying his difficulties, he said. It's
very easy to do, you know, when one's business makes a fine art of
Why, he doesn't impress me that way, at all, said the good lady,
who knew nothing of her cousin's very excellent reasons for disliking
Brockway. He seems to be a very pleasant young man, and quite
Mr. Vennor shrugged his shoulders. I don't question his
intelligencethough it wasn't very remarkable at the dinner-table last
night. Did you happen to find out whether he is going all the way
across with his party?
He didn't say. His people are going up to Silver Plume to-day, but
he can't go with them. He has to stay in Denver with one of the
exacting ones whose ticket is out of repair.
Ha! that's a very sharp little trick, said the President; but
inasmuch as he did not elucidate, the chaperon misunderstood.
To get him into trouble with the others? I fancy that is only
incidental. Mr. Brockway is going to try to get Mr. Burtonour Mr.
Burton, of Salt Lake City, you knowwho is on the train, to take
charge of the party on the Silver Plume trip.
Mr. Vennor said, Oh, and then the young people began to appear,
and the waiter announced breakfast. During the meal the President was
too deeply engrossed in the working out of a small counterplot to hear
or heed much of the desultory table-talk. It was quite evident that the
passenger agent had learned of the proposed stop-over in Denver, and
was preparing to take advantage of it. His confidence with Mrs. Dunham
was only a roundabout way of notifying Gertrude.
Mr. Vennor considered many little schemes of the frustrating sort,
and finally choosing one which seemed to meet all the requirements, put
it in train immediately after breakfast.
What are you going to do with yourself to-day? he asked of
Fleetwell, when they had drawn apart and lighted their cigars.
Don't know, replied the collegian, between whiffs; whatever the
others want to do.
I was just thinking, the President continued, carelessly. The
Beaswicke girls want to call on some friends of theirs, and that
eliminates them. I expect to be busy all day; and Cousin Jeannette says
she doesn't care to go about. Suppose you and Gertrude take a run up
into the mountains on one of the narrow-gauges. It'll fill in the day,
and you can be back in time for dinner this evening.
I don't mind, if Gertrude wants to go; but I don't believe she
does, said Fleetwell, with so little enthusiasm that the President
looked at him sharply.
I'm almost sure she doesn't, the collegian replied, placidly.
Mr. Francis Vennor was a conservative man, slow to admit even the
contradiction of facts. While waiting for Gertrude the previous
evening, he had convinced himself that his daughter was about to
sacrifice herself. To an impartial onlookerand he prided himself on
being no lessthe evidence was logically conclusive; and,
notwithstanding Gertrude's tardy denial, he still believed that his
major premise was correct, or, at most, only errant in time.
Having thus set his judgment a bad example, it easily broke bounds
again in the same direction. How should Fleetwell know that Gertrude
would not care to spend the day in his company? Probably because they
had found time before breakfast for another of their foolish
disagreements. In that case, it would be the part of wisdom to separate
them for the day; and a plan by which this might be accomplished, and
the passenger agent checkmated at the same time, suggested itself at
We'll let it go at that, then, he said, answering Fleetwell's
assumption. You can manage to wear out the day in town. Perhaps the
Beaswicke girls will let you go calling with them.
Think so? I'll go and ask them, Fleetwell said, with more
animation than he had yet exhibited; and he threw away his cigar and
went about it.
The President rose and crossed over to Mrs. Dunham's chair.
Where is Gertrude? he inquired.
She complained of a headache and went to her room. Shall I call
Oh, no; but if you haven't already done so, I wish you wouldn't
mention what Brockway told you, this morningabout his spending the
day in Denver, I mean.
Certainly not, if you wish it, the chaperon agreed; but the
expression of her face was so plainly interrogative that the President
was constrained to go on.
There is nothing to be anxious about yet, he hastened to say; but
you know the old adage about the ounce of prevention. Gertrude is very
self-willed, and they were together rather more than I could wish, last
I think you are altogether mistaken, Cousin Francis, said the good
lady, in whom there was no drop of match-making blood. She has talked
very freely with me about him, and a young girl doesn't do that if
there is any sentiment in the air.
I hope you are right. But it will do no harm to give ourselves the
benefit of the doubt. I fancy Chester didn't quite approve of the
little diversion last eveningon the engine, you know.
Pooh! I don't believe he gave it a second thought.
Possibly not; but he had a very good right to object. It was a
reckless bit of impropriety.
You sat up for Gertrude last night; did you say as much to her?
the chaperon asked, shrewdly.
Not quite that, said the President, who was unwilling to go into
Because, if you did, it was injudicious, that's all. Gertrude is
your own daughter, and she is enough like you to resent anything of
that kind in a way to make you regretful. That accounts for the
headache this morning.
Gertrude's father smiled rather grimly. I shall presently find a
remedy for the headache, and you'll see that it will work like a charm.
But its efficacy will depend upon your discretion. Not a word about the
passenger agent, if you please.
Mrs. Dunham promised, rather reluctantly, and Mr. Vennor put on his
hat and left the compartment. He had business in the Ariadne; and a
little later, Mrs. Burton, who was buttoning her shoe, looked up to
find the calculating eyes of the President making a calm and leisurely
valuation of her.
XIV. WITH DENVER IN SIGHT
There was the usual early morning confusion in the aisle of the
Ariadne when Brockway picked his way forward to section three over a
litter of opened hand-bags, lately polished shoes, and unshod feet. He
found the Burton section empty, with the porter putting the finishing
touches to his morning's work of scene-shifting.
Yes, sah; de gemman's in de washroom, an' de lady
Is right here, said a voice at Brockway's elbow. Good-morning,
Mr. Frederick; how do you find yourselfor aren't you lost?
The forty-minute lock-out had left scant time for preliminaries, and
Brockway left off the preamble.
I'm not lost, but I'm going to be if you and John don't help me
out. Will you do it?
Sight unseen. The little lady was eying her shoes wistfully and
hoping that Brockway would be brief.
I thought I could count on you. What is your programme for to-day?
For John, business, I suppose; for myself, a carriage, a handy
card-case, and any number of 'how do you dos' and 'good-byes.' Why?
I want you both to give me the day, out and out. Listen, and don't
say no till you've heard me through.
Go on, but don't let it lap over into Denver; we're 'most there.
Brockway stated his case briefly. It's probably the last chance
I'll ever have to see her, he concluded.
Why should you want to see her when there is nothing to be done, as
I don't know thatbut I do, and you must help me. Will you?
Help you carry on a brazen flirtation with that poor, innocent
girl? Never! But if John says he'll go, I suppose I can't help
Thank you; I knew you wouldn't be cruel. And if John should happen
to balk a little
Why, I'll talk him over, of course; is that what you want?
That's it exactly. Thank you some more.
Don't mention it. Is that all?
Yyes, all but one little trifle of detail. Have you told John
about mymy lunacy?
Then don't; it's bad enough to be an idiot and know it myself.
I sha'n'tperhaps. Is that all?
Yes, I believe so.
Then for mercy's sake do go and talk to John, and let me put on my
shoes, said Mrs. Burton, impatiently. I can't go to breakfast in my
Brockway vanished obediently, and presently found Burton struggling
into his outer garments in the smoking-room.
Hello, Fred; how are the invalids this morning? Get you out bright
One of them didthat old fellow with the bad case of
ticket-limits. I'm in trouble up to my neck, and you've got to help me
Say the word and I'll do it if it costs me something, said Burton,
who was nothing if not helpful to his friends.
It's going to cost you somethinga whole day, in fact. I promised
to 'personally conduct' the crowd up to Silver Plume to-day, and the
arrangements are all made. Now this old fellow says he isn't going;
says I've got to stay in Denver with him and telegraph another thirty
days to his ticket, or the heavens will fall. I'm going to do it, and I
want you to take my place with the party.
Same old maker of hard-and-fast promises, aren't you, Fred, said
the general agent, smiling. I suppose I can do it, if you can square
it with Emily.
I've done that already; she's awfully good about itsays she'll go
along and help you out. What's this place? Overton? By Jove! I'll have
to be getting back to my car; we're only fifteen miles out. Thank you
much, old mansee you laterand the passenger agent pushed through
the group in the wash-room and dropped off to once more make the
circuit of car Naught-fifty.
It was while Brockway was making his second circuit of the private
car that Mrs. Burton looked up and encountered the calculating gaze of
Ahgood-morning, Mrs. Burton; you remember me, I see. On your way
back to Utah, are you?
Yes the sir was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to
suppress it. We have been to Chicago, to the passenger meeting.
So I inferred. Do you enjoy Chicago, Mrs. Burton?
She felt that five minutes of this would unhinge her reason, but she
made shift to answer, intelligently: Yes, in a way; but I've never
been about much. Mr. Burton is always so busy when we are there.
Precisely; always busy; that is the whole history of civilized man
in two words, isn't it? But where is your good husband?
He is in the wash-room, she began; but at that moment Burton
Ha! said the President; good-morning, Mr. Burton. You didn't
expect to find me here chatting with your wife, did you?
Well, no, not exactlythat is Burton's one weakness lay in
undue deference to his superior officers, and he stumbled helplessly.
But his wife came promptly to the rescue.
It's such a distinction, Mr. Vennor, that we don't know how to
properly acknowledge it, she retorted, laughing, Will you excuse me
if I finish buttoning my shoe?
Certainly, certainlythe President's tone was genially paternal;
I merely wanted to have a word with Mr. Burton; and he rose and drew
the general agent across to the opposite section.
Sit down, sit down, Burton; don't stand on ceremony with me, he
said, patronizingly. I came to ask a favor of you, and positively you
Burton sat down mechanically.
I learned a few minutes ago through young Brockway that you were on
the train, the President continued, lowering his voice, and I
understand that he wishes you to take charge of his party for the day
on the trip up Clear Creek Canyon. Has he spoken to you about it?
Yes; he was here just now. Burton answered as he had sat
And you consented to do it, I presume?
Why, yes; he asked it as a personal favor, and I thought I might
make a few new friends for our line. But if you don't approve
Don't misunderstand me, interrupted the President, with
well-feigned magnanimity; as I said, I came to ask a favor. You met my
daughter, Gertrude, when we were out last summer, I believe?
Yes, at Manitou. The general agent was far beyond soundings on the
sea of mystery by this time.
Well, you must know she took a great fancy to your wife, and when I
heard of this arrangement, I determined to ask you to take her along
with you for the day. May I count upon it?
Why, certainly; we shall be delighted, Burton rejoined. Let me
But the President stopped him. He had taken time to reflect that a
little secrecy might be judicious at this point; and he was shrewd
enough to distrust women in any affair bordering upon the romantic. So
Suppose we make it a little surprise for both of them. Keep it to
yourself, and when your train is ready to leave, I'll bring Gertrude
over to you. How will that do?
Burton was in a fair way to lose his head at being asked to share a
secret with his President, and he promised readily.
Not a word. Mrs. Burton will be delighted. I'll be on the lookout
So it was arranged; and with a gracious word of leave-taking for the
wife, Mr. Vennor went back to his car, rubbing his hands and smiling
inscrutably. He found his daughter curled up in the great wicker chair
in an otherwise unoccupied corner of the central compartment.
Under the weather this morning, Gertrude? he asked, wisely setting
aside the constraint which might naturally be supposed to be an
unpleasant consequence of their latest interview.
Yes, a little, she replied, absently.
I presume you haven't made any plans for the day, he went on; I
fancy you don't care to go visiting with the Beaswicke girls.
No, indeed; I can do that at home.
How would you like to go up to Silver Plume with Mr. Brockway's
She knew well enough that her father's cold eyes had surprised the
sudden flash of gladness in hers, but she was not minded to reopen the
Oh, that would be delightful, she said, annulling the significance
of the words with the indifference of her tone; quite as delightful as
it is impossible.
But it isn't impossible, said the President, blandly; on the
contrary, I have taken the liberty of arranging itsubject to your
approval, of course. I chanced upon two old friends of ours who are
going with the party, and they will take care of you and bring you back
Friends of ours? she queried; who are they?
Ah, I promised not to tell you beforehand. Will you go?
Certainly, if you have arranged it, she rejoined, still speaking
indifferently because she was unwilling to show him how glad she was.
For she was frankly glad. The glamour of last night's revelation was
over the recollection of those other days spent with Brockway, and she
was impatiently eager to put her impressions quickly to the test of
repetitionto suffer loss, if need be, but by all means to make sure.
And because of this eagerness, she quite overlooked the incongruity of
such a proposal coming from her fatheran oversight which Mr. Vennor
had shrewdly anticipated and reckoned upon.
It was 7.30, and the train was clattering through the Denver yards,
measuring the final mile of the long westward run. Gertrude rose to go
and get ready.
You needn't hurry, said her father; the narrow-gauge train
doesn't leave for half an hour. I'll come for you when it is time to
He watched her go down the compartment and enter her stateroom
without stopping to speak to any of the others. Then he held up his
finger for the secretary.
Harry, when the train stops, I want you should get off and see
where Brockway goes. You know him, and you might make an excuse to talk
with him. When you have found out, come and tell me. Do you
Yes, sir, said Quatremain; and when he had kicked his pride into a
proper attitude of submission, he went about the errand.
XVI. THE MADDING CROWD
Twice a day, in the time whereof these things are written, the
platform of the Denver Union Depot gave the incoming migrant his first
true glimpse of the untrammelled West. A broad sea of planking, open to
the heavensand likewise to the world at largewas the morning and
evening arena of a moving spectacle the like of which is not to be
witnessed in any well-ordered railway station of the self-contained
Trains headed north, east, south, and west, backed across the
platform and drawn apart in the midst to leave a passageway for the
crowds; other trains going and coming, with shouting yard-men for
outriders to clear the tracks; huge shifting pyramids of baggage piled
high on tilting trucks, dividing with the moving trains the attention
of the dodging multitude; the hurrying throngs imbued for the moment
with the strenuous travail-spirit of the New West; these were the
persons and the properties. And the shrieking safety-valves, the
clanging bells, the tinnient gong of the breakfast-room, the rumbling
trucks, and the under-roar of matter in motion, were the pieces in the
It is all very different now, I am told. They have iron railings
with wicket-gates and sentinels in uniform who ask to see your ticket,
and a squad of policemen to keep order, and rain-sheds over the
platforms (it used not to rain in the Denver I knew), and all the other
appurtenances and belongings of a well-conducted railway terminus. But
the elder order of disorder obtained on the autumn morning when the
Flying Kestrel came to rest opposite the gap in the bisected trains
filling the other tracks. Brockway was the first man out of the Tadmor,
but the gadfly was a close second.
No, sir; I don't intend to lose sight of you, Mr. ahBrockway, he
quavered; and he hung at the passenger agent's elbow while the latter
was marshalling the party for the descent on the breakfast-room, a
process which vocalized itself thus:
Brockway, handing the ladies in the debarking procession down
the steps of the car: Breakfast is ready in the dining-room. Special
tables reserved for this party. Wait, and we'll all go in together.
Leave your hand-baggage with the porter, unless it's something you will
need during the day. Take your time; you have thirty minutes before the
train leaves for Clear Creek Canyon and the Loop.
Chorus of the Personally Conducted:
How long did you say we'd have?
What are they going to do with our car while we're gone?
Say, Mr. Passenger Agent, are you sure the baggage will be safe if
we leave it with the porter?
What time have you now?
How far is it over to those mountains?
Oh, Mr. Brockway; won't this be a good chance to see if my trunk
was put on the train with the others?
Say; what time did you say that Clear Creek Canyon train leaves?
Brockway, answering the last question because the inquirer
happens to be nearest at hand: Eight o'clock.
The Querist, with his watch (which he has omitted to set back
to mountain time) in his hand: Eight o'clock? Then it's goneit's
half-past eight now! Look here.
Brockway, who is vainly endeavoring to persuade an elderly
maiden lady to leave her canary in charge of the porter during the day:
That is central time you have, Mr. Tucker; mountain time is one hour
slower. Careful, Mr. Perkins; let me take your grip. You won't need it
The Elderly Maiden Lady: Now, Mr. Brockway, are you sure
it'll be perfectly safe to leave Dicky with the porter?
Mr. Somers, sotto voce in Brockway's ear: Hang Dicky! Let's
go to breakfast.
The Gadfly: Mr. ahBrockway, you will oblige me by sitting
at my table. I don't ahpurpose to lose sight of you, sir.
Brockway, to the porter: All out, John?
The Porter, with the cavernous smile of his kind: All out,
Brockway, sandwiching himself between two of the unescorted
ladies: All aboard for the dining-room!
So much Harry Quatremain, standing aloof, saw and heard, and was
minded to go back to President Vennor and make his report accordingly.
But the yard crew, already busily dismembering the Flying Kestrel,
whipped the Tadmor and the private car out into the yard, and the
secretary was left standing in the unquiet crowd.
Having nothing better to do, he sauntered across to the depot, not
intending to spy further upon the passenger agent, but rather
cudgelling his brain to devise some pretext upon which he could safely
lie to the President and so appease his self-respect. The pretext did
not suggest itself; and after looking into the dining-room, where he
saw Brockway and his thirty-odd in one corner, and the Burtons, whom he
knew by sight, in another, he strolled out to the end of the building
where the yard-crew was switching the Naught-fifty to its place on the
short spur. The President was standing on the front platform; and
Quatremain, having no plausible falsehood ready, reported the simple
Very good, said his employer. Now go back and keep your eye on
him; and, at precisely five minutes of eight, come and tell me where he
is and what he is doing.
Quatremain turned on his heel and swore a clerkly oath, well
smothered, to the effect that he would do nothing of the sort. It was
not the first time the President had used him as a private detective,
but, happily, use had not yet dulled his reluctance. None the less, he
went back to the door of the dining-room and waited, and while he
tarried curiosity came to keep wrath company. What was afoot that the
President should be so anxious about the movements of the passenger
agent? The secretary could not guess, but he determined to find out.
Three minutes before Quatremain's time-limit expired, Brockway,
followed closely by a slope-shouldered old gentleman with close-set
eyes, came out with Burton. He nodded to the secretary and kept on
talking to the general agent. Quatremain could scarcely help
You can introduce yourself, he was saying; there isn't time for
any formalities. You'll find them docile enoughthey haven't any kick
coming with you, you knowand I'll be here to take them off your hands
when you get back. No, I'll not go over to the train, unless you want
me to; I'm going to the telegraph office with Mr. Jordan here, and then
up-town to see our general agent about his ticket. Good-by, old man;
and thank you again.
Quatremain looked at his watch. It was 7.55, to the minute, and he
walked leisurely around to the private car.
Well? said the President, and the steady gaze of the cold eye slew
the falsehood which the secretary was about to utter.
He's in the telegraph office with one of his people, Quatremain
replied, angry enough to curse himself for being so weak as to tell the
Very good. Go into my stateroom and get the mail ready. I'll come
in and dictate to you presently.
The secretary obeyed as one who may not do otherwise, and left the
stateroom door ajar. A moment later, he heard a tap at the door of
Gertrude's room, and then the President and his daughter left the car
together. Quatremain slammed down the cover of his desk, snatched his
hat, and followed them. He had paid the servile price, and he would at
least gratify his curiosity.
He caught sight of them in the crowd streaming out toward the
Colorado Central train, and scored the first point when he observed
that the President made a detour to avoid passing the open door of the
telegraph office. Then he kept them in view till he saw Miss Vennor
give her hand to Burton at the steps of one of the narrow-gauge cars.
At that moment, Mrs. Burton, who was comfortably established in the
midst of a carful of the Tadmorians, chanced to look out of the window.
She saw the President and his daughter come swiftly across the
platform, saw her husband step out to meet them and shake hands with
Gertrude, remarked the quick flash of glad surprise on the young girl's
face, and the nervous anxiety with which the President consulted his
watch, and was immediately as well apprised of the inwardness of the
little plot as if she had devised it herself.
Oh! oh! she said to herself, with indignant emphasis; that
venerable old tyrant is turning her over to us to get her out of Fred's
way! And he hasn't told her that Fred isn't going!
Now, to the Emily Burton type of woman-kind, the marring of a plot
is only less precious than the making of one. The little lady had never
been known to think deeply, but a grain of swift wit is sometimes worth
an infinity of tardy logic. Whatever intervened, the conclusion was
clear and definite; Brockway's chance must be rescued at all
hazardsand there were only two minutes in which to do it.
She scanned the throng on the platform eagerly, hoping to catch
sight of him, but the faces were all strange save one. That was the
face of the President's private secretary; and, without a moment's
hesitation, she beckoned him.
Quatremain saw the signal, and made his way to her window, taking
care to keep as many human screens as possible between himself and the
group at the car steps.
Mrs. Burton, I believe, he said, lifting his hat.
Yeshurriedly. Do you know Mr. Brockway?
Do you know where he is now?
Yes; he's over in the telegraph office.
Will you take him a message from me, quickly?
Certainly, with pleasure.
Then tell him I say he is going to be lost if he doesn't catch this
train; he'll understand. And please hurrythere isn't a second
Quatremain nodded, and vanished in the crowd. He understood nothing
of what was toward, but he suspected that what he was about to do would
somehow interfere with the President's plans, and that was sufficient
to make him run when he was well out of sight. He found Brockway in the
telegraph office, writing a message, with the slope-shouldered
gentleman at his elbow, and delivered Mrs. Burton's message verbatim
and shorn of any introduction whatsoever.
The effect on the passenger agent was surprising, if not
explanatory. Says I'm going to beNot if I know it! I say,
Tomflinging the pad of blanks at the operator, to call his
attentionwire anythingeverythingthis gentleman wants you to; I'm
But, Mr. ahBrockway, II protest! buzzed the gadfly, clutching
at the passenger agent; but he was not quick enough, and when the
protest was formulated, there was no one but the operator to listen to
The engine-bell was ringing and the train had begun to move when
Brockway dashed out of the office, and the appreciative bystanders made
way for him and cheered him as he sped away across the platform. It was
neck-and-neck, and nothing to choose; but he was making it easily, when
he collided squarely in mid career with the tall figure of the
President. For a single passionate instant Mr. Francis Vennor forgot
his traditions, and struck out savagely at the passenger agent. The
blow caught Brockway full in the chest and made him gasp and stagger;
but he gathered himself quickly, swerved aside, and ran on, catching
the rear hand-rail of the last car as the train swept out of the
XVII. ON THE NARROW-GAUGE
For a certain breath-cutting minute after he had made good his grasp
on the hand-rails of the rear car, Brockway was too angry to
congratulate himself. A blow, even though it be given by a senior, and
that senior the father of the young woman with whom one chances to be
in love, is not to be borne patiently save by a philosopher or a
craven, and Brockway was far enough from being either the one or the
But, fortunately for his own peace of mind, the young man reckoned a
quick temper among his compensations. By the time he had recovered his
breath, some subtle essence of the clean, crisp morning air had gotten
into his veins, and the insult dwindled in the perspective until it
became less incendiary. Nay, more; before the engineer whistled for
Argo, Brockway was beginning to find excuses for the exasperated
father. He assumed that Gertrude was on the train with the
BurtonsMrs. Burton's message could mean no lessand Mr. Francis
Vennor had doubtless been at some pains to arrange the little plan of
separation. And to find it falling to pieces at the last moment was
certainly very exasperating. Brockway admitted it cheerfully, and when
he had laughed aloud at the President's discomfiture until the sore
spot under his right collar-bone ached again, he thought he was fit to
venture among the Tadmorians. Accordingly, he made his way forward
through the two observation-cars to the coach set apart for the
His appearance was the signal for a salvo of exclamatory inquiry
from the members of the party, but Brockway had his eyes on the
occupants of a double seat in the middle of the coach, and he assured
himself that explanations to the thirty-odd might well wait. A moment
later he was shaking hands with Mrs. Burton and Miss Vennor.
Dear me! said the proxy chaperon, with shameless disingenuousness;
I was really beginning to be afraid you were left. Where have you been
all the time?
Out on the rear platform, taking in the scenery, Brockway replied,
calmly, sitting down beside Gertrude. Didn't you see me when I got
Mrs. Burton had seen the little incident on the station platform out
of the tail of her eye as the train was getting under way, so she was
barely within truthful limits when she said No. But she looked very
hard at Brockway and succeeded in making him understand that Gertrude
was not to know anything about the plot or its marring. The young man
telegraphed acquiescence, though his leaning was rather toward straight
Did you rest well after your spin on the engine last night? he
asked of Gertrude.
Quite well, thank you. Have you ever ridden on an engine, Mrs.
Many times, replied the marplot; and then she made small-talk
desperately, while she tried to think of some way of warning her
husband not to be surprised at the sudden change in Brockway's
itinerary for the day. Nothing better suggesting, she struck hands with
temerity when Burton appeared at the forward door with the conductor,
and ordered Brockway to take Gertrude back to the observation-car.
It's a shame that Miss Vennor should be missing the scenery, she
said. Go along with her and make yourself useful. We will take care of
The small plotter breathed freer when they were gone. She knew she
had a little duel to fight with her conservative husband, and she
preferred to fight it without seconds. Her premonition became a reality
as soon as he reached her.
How is this? he began; did you know Fred had changed his plans?
She shook her head. He didn't take me into his confidence.
Well, what did he say for himself?
About changing his mind? Nothing.
He didn't? that's pretty cool! What does he mean by running us off
up here on a wild-goose chase?
How should I know, when he didn't tell me?
Well, I'll just go and find out, Burton declared, with growing
But his wife detained him. Sit down and think about it for a few
minutes, first, she said, coolly. You are angry now, and you mustn't
forget that he's with Miss Vennor.
By Jove! that is the very thing I'm not forgetting. I believe you
were more than half-right in your guess, yesterday; but we mustn't let
them make fools of themselvesanyway, not while we are responsible.
I don't quite savez the responsibility, retorted the little
lady, flippantly. But what do you imagine?
I don't imagineI know. He found out, somehow, that she was going
with us, and just dropped things and ran for it.
Do you think he did that?
Of course he did. And if we're not careful the odium of the whole
thing will fall on us.
Well, what are you going to do about it?
I don't know. I suppose we ought to go back from Golden and take
Miss Vennor along with us.
Wouldn't that be assuming a great deal? You would hardly want to
tell the President that you had brought his daughter back because you
were afraid she might do something rash.
Oh, pshaw! said Burton, who was rather out of his element in
trying to pick his way among the social ploughshares.
But that is what you will have to tell him, if we go back, she
insisted, with delicious effrontery.
Burton thought about it for a moment, and ended by accepting the
fact merely because it was thrust upon him. I couldn't very well do
that, you know, he objected, and she nearly laughed in his face
because he had fallen so readily into her small trap; but if we don't
break it off, what shall we do?
Do? why, nothing at all! Mr. Vennor asks us to take his daughter
with us on a little pleasure-trip, and he doesn't tell us to bring her
back instanter if we happen to find Fred on the train.
Burton was silenced, but he was very far from being convinced, and
he gave up the return project reluctantly, promising himself that he
should have a very uncomfortable day of it.
In the meantime, the two young people in the observation-car were
making hard work of it. A good many undiscussable happenings had
intervened between their parting and their meeting, and these
interfered sadly with the march of a casual conversation. As usually
befalls, it was the young woman who first rose superior to the
I'm glad of this day, she said, frankly, when they had exhausted
the scenery, the matchless morning, the crisp air, and half a dozen
other commonplaces. I enjoyed our trip down from Silver Plume a year
ago so much, and it seemed the height of improbability to imagine that
we'd ever repeat it. Did you think we ever should?
No, indeed, replied Brockway, truthfully; but I have wished many
times that we might. Once in awhile, when I was a boy, I used to get a
day that was all my owna day in which I could go where I pleased and
do as I liked. Those days are all marked with white stones now, and I
often envy the boy who had them.
I think I can understand that.
Can you? I didn't know little girls ever had such days.
I've had a few, but I think they were never given me. They were
usually stolen, and so were doubly precious.
Brockway laughed. Suppose we call this a stolen day, and try to
make it as much like the others as we can. Shall we?
It's a bargain, she said, impulsively.
From this minute, I am any irresponsible age you please; and
youyou are to do nothing whatever that you meant to do. Will you
agree to that?
Gladly, Brockway assented, the more readily since his plans for
the day had been so recently demolished and rebuilt. We'll go where we
please, and do as we like; and for this one day nobody shall say
She laughed with him, and then became suddenly grave. It's no use;
we can't do it, she said, with mock pathos; the 'ancients and
invalids' won't let us.
Yes, they will, Brockway asserted, cheerfully; Burton will take
care of themthat's what he's here for. Moreover, I shall take it upon
myself to abolish the perversities, animate or inanimate.
Please do. And if Mrs. Burton scold me
She'd better not, said Brockway, with much severity. If she does,
I'll tell tales out of school and give her something else to think
You would better believe it; she is trembling in her shoes this
blessed minute for fear I may. But you would have to stand by me.
I? Well, I've promised, you know. What place is this?
The train had entered the great gateway in Table Mountain, and was
clattering past the Golden smelting works.
It is Goldenyou remember, don't you? And then Brockway bethought
him of something. Will you excuse me a minute, while I get off and
speak to the agent?
Certainly, said Gertrude; and when the train skirted the high
platform, Brockway sprang off and ran quickly to the telegraph office.
The operator was just coming out with a freshly written message in his
Hello, Fred, he said; didn't know you were on. Do you happen to
know a Miss Gertrude Vennor? She's with John Burton's party.
Yes, said Brockway, tingling to get hold of the message before
Burton should come along.
All right; give her this, will you? I can't leave that blessed wire
Brockway thrust the telegram into his pocket, dodged around the
throng of station loungers, and won back to the rear platform of the
observation-car without seeing or being seen of the general agent. Then
he drew the crumpled paper from his pocket and read it shamelessly.
TO MISS GERTRUDE VENNOR,
Care John Burton,
On Colorado Central Train 51.
Come back from Golden on first train. Have changed our plans,
and shall leave Denver at 1.30 P.M.
XVIII. FLAGGED DOWN
Brockway read the President's telegram twice, folded it very small,
and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.
That's just about what I expected he'd do, and it's a straight
bluff, he muttered. All the same, she's not going back. And I've got
to block it without getting Burton into trouble.
There was no time for anything but the simplest expedient. He jumped
off again and ran back to the telegraph office.
Say, Jim, that message to Miss Vennor is bulled. Ask Denver to
repeat it to Beaver Brook, will you? he said, interrupting the
operator as he was repeating the train order.
The man of dots and dashes finished the order. Can't do it, Fred;
get me into hot water up to my neck. Think of something else.
Will you help me if I do?
Sure; any way that won't cost me my job.
The conductor and engineer had signed the order, but Brockway begged
for a respite. Just a minute, Halsey, while I write a message, he
said, snatching a pad of blanks and writing hastily, while the
TO FRANCIS VENNOR,
Private Car 050, Denver.
Can't you reconsider and leave Denver to-morrow morning, as
previously arranged? Am quite sure Miss Vennor prefers to go
on. Answer at Beaver Brook.
He tossed the pad to the operator.
There you are, Jim; don't break your neck to make a 'rush' of it;
and when you hear the answer coming do what you can to make it limp a
littleanything to change the sense a bit.
I'll do it, quoth the operator; and then the conductor gave the
signal, and Brockway boarded the train and rejoined Gertrude.
Did you think I had deserted you? he asked.
Oh, no; and Mr. Burton's been in to keep me company. He came to ask
if I didn't want to go back to Denver.
Did he? said Brockway, wondering if Burton had also had a message.
And you told him no?
Of course I did. Haven't we made a compact?
You said you were going to be irresponsible, you know, and I didn't
know just where it might crop out.
Not in that direction, you may be sure. You said we were to do as
we pleased, and I don't please to go back to Denver. But Mr. Burton
seemed to be quite anxious about it, for some reason. I wonder why?
So do I, rejoined Brockway, innocently.
Gertrude stole a glance at him, and he tried to look inscrutable,
and failed. Then they both laughed.
You are keeping something back; tell me all about it, Gertrude
I am afraid you will be very angry if I do.
I shall be quite furious if you don't. My! how close that rock
The train was storming up the canyon, dodging back and forth from
wall to wall, roaring over diminutive bridges, and vying with the
foaming torrent at the track-side in its twistings and turnings. The
noise was deafening, but it was bearable, since it served to isolate
Does the compact mean that we are to have no secrets from each
other? he asked, not daring to anticipate the answer; but Gertrude
parried the direct question.
What do two people who are trying to be very young and foolish and
irresponsible know about secrets? she demanded. You are beating about
the bush, and I won't have it. Tell me!
For reply, he took the telegram from his pocket, opened it, smoothed
it carefully on his knee, and handed it to her. She read it at a
glance, and a faint flush came and went in her cheek, but whether of
vexation or not he could not determine.
You are very daring, she said, passing the square of paper back to
him, and her voice was so low that he barely caught the words.
You told me I wasn't to do anything that I meant to do: I certainly
did not premeditate intercepting your telegramsor answering them, he
Then you have answered it? How?
He turned the paper over and wrote his reply on the back, word for
You dared to say that to my father! she exclaimed. How could
Under some circumstances, I think I could dare anything. But you
are angry, as I said you'd be.
Of course I amvery. I demand to be taken back to Denver this
Do you mean that?
Didn't I say it?
Brockway tried in vain to read a contradiction in her face, but the
steady eyes were veiled, and it is the eyes that speak when the lips
I'm sorry, he began; it meant a great deal to me, but I know it
was inexcusable. I'll go and tell Burton, and you can go back from the
Forks, where the trains meet.
Now Gertrude had builded upon the supposition that she was safe
beyond the reach of recall, and she made haste to retract.
Yes, do! she said, tragically; make me go down on my knees and
beg you not toI'll do it, if you insist. How was I to know that you
were only trying to humiliate me?
The swift little recantation gave Brockway a glimpse into her
personality which was exceedingly precious while it lasted. A man may
fall in love with a sweet face on slight provocation and without
preliminaries, but he knows little of the height and depth of passion
until association has taught him. But love of the instantaneous variety
has this to commend it, that its demands are modest and based upon
things visible. Wherefore, certain small excellences of character in
the subject, brought to light by a better acquaintance, come in the
nature of so many ecstatic little surprises.
That is the man's point of view. The woman takes the excellences for
granted, and if they are lacking, one of two things may happen: a great
smashing of ideals, or an attack of heavenly blindness. Gertrude was of
the tribe of those who go blind; and deep down in her heart she
rejoiced in Brockway's audacity. Hence it was only for form's sake that
she said, How was I to know that you were only trying to humiliate
I humiliate you! he repeated, quite aghast at the bare suggestion.
Not knowingly, you may be very sure. But about the telegram; you are
not angry with me because I was desperate enough to answer it without
having first shown it to you?
I said I was, and so I must be. But I don't see how you could have
done otherwisenot after you had promised not to let anything
interfere. Do you think Mr. Burton had a telegram, too?
I was just wondering, Brockway rejoined, reflectively. I think we
are safe in assuming that he hadn't.
I don't care; I'm not going back, said Gertrude, with fine
determination. Papa gave me this day, early in the morning, and I'm
going to keep it. What do you think of an irresponsible young person
who says such an unfilial thing as that?
You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I think.
Try me and see.
That is one of the things I don't darenot yet.
You'd better not abate any of your daring; you'll need it all when
we get back, laughed Gertrude, speaking far better than she knew.
To take the consequences of my impudence?
Yes. You don't know my father; he is steel and ice when he is
Remembering the object-lesson on the station platform in Denver,
Brockway ventured to dissent from this, though he was politic enough
not to do so openly.
You think he will be very angry, then?
Indeed I don'tI know it.
I'm sorry; but I'm afraid he will be angrier yet, before long.
You read my message: I asked him to answer at Beaver Brook. He'll
be pretty sure to send you a peremptory order to turn back from Forks
Creek, won't he?
Why, of course he will; and I'll have to go back, after allI
sha'n't dare disobey. Oh, why didn't you make it impossible, while you
were doing it?
I had to do what I could; and you, and Burton, and the operator,
had to be saved blameless. But I'll venture a prediction. As well as
you know your father, you may prepare yourself to be surprised at what
he will say. I am no mind-reader, but I'm going to prophesy that he
doesn't recall you.
But why? I don't understand
We are due at Beaver Brook in five minutes; wait, and you will
So they waited while the pygmy locomotive snorted and labored, and
the yellow torrent roared and fled backward, and the gray cliffs on
either hand flung back the clamorous echoes, and the cool damp air of
the canyon, flushed now and then with a jet of spray, blew in at the
For the first time since her father had suggested the trip with the
Burtons, Gertrude began to understand that it could scarcely have been
his intention to give her an uninterrupted day in the company of the
passenger agent. But in that case, why had he proposed the trip,
knowing that Brockway's party would be on the train? The answer to this
query did not tarry. She had caught the surprised exclamations of the
Tadmorians when Brockway made his appearance, and they pointed to the
supposition that his presence on the train was unexpected. And he had
been evidently embarrassed; and Mrs. Burton was curiously distrait and
unmistakably anxious to get them out of the way before her husband
These things were but straws, but they all pointed to one
conclusion. Her father knew, or thought he knew, that the passenger
agent was to stay behind in Denver, and he had deliberately sent her
away for the day to preclude the possibility of another meeting. And
when he had discovered that the little plan had miscarried, he had
quite as deliberately ordered her return.
Speaking broadly, the President's daughter was not undutiful; but
she was sufficiently like her father to be quickly resentful of
coercive measures. Wherefore, when she had cleared up the small mystery
to her own satisfaction, she hardened her heart and promised herself
that nothing short of a repetition of the peremptory order should make
her return on the forenoon train. And the shriek of the engine,
whistling for Beaver Brook, punctuated the resolve.
XIX. THE FOOLISH WIRES
When President Vennor returned to his stateroom in the private car
after the choleric little incident on the platform, he found his
secretary waiting with open note-book and a sheaf of well-sharpened
pencils. Quatremain's hands were a trifle unsteady when he began to
write at the President's dictation, but his employer did not observe
it. As a matter of fact, Mr. Francis Vennor was deep in the
undercurrent of his private thoughtsthoughts which were quite
separate and apart from the unbroken flow of words trickling out
through Quatremain's pencil-point upon the pages of the note-book. Mere
business was very much a matter of habit with the President, and the
dictating of a few letters to be signed Francis Vennor, President,
did not interfere with a coincident search for some means of retrieving
the morning's disaster.
It was a disaster, and no less. He began by calling it a mistake,
but mistakes which involve the possible loss of fortunes, small or
great, are not to be lightly spoken of. By the time he reached the end
of the fifth letter, he had run the gamut of expedients and concluded
to try the effect of a little wholesome parental authority.
Go out and get me a Colorado Central time-card, he said to
Quatremain; and when the secretary returned with a copy of the official
time-table, Mr. Vennor traced out the schedule of the morning trains,
east and west. Number Fifty-one was not yet due at Golden, and a
telegram to that station would doubtless reach Gertrude.
Take a message to Miss Gertrude, Harry, he began; but while he was
trying to formulate it in words which should be peremptory without
being incendiary, he thought better of it and went out to send it
himself. There was a querulous old gentleman in the telegraph office
who was making life burdensome for the operator, and it was with no
little difficulty that the President secured enough of the young man's
time and attention to serve his purpose.
You are quite sure you can reach Golden before the train gets
there, are you? he said, writing the number of his telegraph frank in
the corner of the blank.
Oh, yes, replied the operator, with an upward glance at the clock;
there's plenty of time. I'll send it right away.
But I ahprotest! declared the querulous gentleman, and he failed
not to do so most emphatically after the President left the office.
The operator turned a deaf ear, and sent the message to Miss Vennor;
and when, in due course of time, Brockway's answer came, he sent it out
to the private car. The President was still dictating and was in the
midst of a letter when the yellow envelope was handed him, but he
stopped short and opened the telegram. The reading of Brockway's
insolent question imposed a severe test upon Mr. Vennor's powers of
self-control, and the outcome was not wholly a victory on the side of
Curse his impudence! he broke out, wrathfully; I'll make this
cost him something before he's through with it! and he sprang to his
feet and hurried out with the inflammatory message in his hand.
It is a trite saying that anger is an evil counsellor, and whoso
hearkens thereto will have many things to repent of. No one knew the
value of this aphorism better than Francis Vennor, but for once in a
way he allowed himself to disregard it. He knew well enough that a
delicately worded hint to Burton would bring the general agent and his
wife and Gertrude back to Denver on the next train, but wrath would not
be satisfied with such a placable expedient. On the contrary, he
resolved to communicate directly with Gertrude herself, and to rebuke
her openly, as her undutiful conduct deserved.
In the telegraph office the operator was still having trouble with
the querulous gentleman, but the President went to the desk to write
his message, shutting his ears to the shrill voice of the gadfly.
But, sir, I must ahprotest. I distinctly heard Mr. ahBrockway
tell you to send anything I desired, and I demand that you send this;
it was part of the ahstipulation, sir!
This was a message of five hundred-odd words to the local railway
agent in the small town where Mr. Jordan had purchased his ticket,
setting forth his grievance at length; and the operator naturally
demurred. While he was trying to persuade the pertinacious gentleman to
cut the jeremiad down to a reasonable length, the President finished
his telegram to his daughter. It was curt and incisive.
TO MISS GERTRUDE VENNOR,
On Train 51.
If you do not return this forenoon we shall not wait for you.
The operator took it, and the President glanced at his watch.
Can you catch that train at Beaver Brook? he inquired.
Yes, just about.
Do it, then, at once. Excuse me to the gadflythis is very
important, and you have all day for your business.
The brusque interruption started the fountain of protests afresh,
but the operator turned away and sat down to his instrument. Beaver
Brook answered its call promptly, and the message to Miss Vennor
clicked swiftly through the sounder.
For a quarter of an hour or more, Brockway's friend in the Golden
office had been neglecting his work and listening intently to the
irrelevant chattering of his sounder. He heard Denver call Beaver
Brook, and when the station in the canyon answered, he promptly
grounded the wire and caught up his pen. The effect of this manoeuvre
was to short-circuit that particular wire at Golden, cutting off all
stations beyond; but this the Denver operator could not know. As a
result, the President's telegram got no farther than Golden, and
Brockway's friend took it down as it was sent. At the final word he
opened the wire again in time to hear Beaver Brook swear at the
prolonged break, and ask Denver what was wanted.
Thereupon followed a smart quarrel in telegraphic shorthand, in
which Denver accused Beaver Brook of going to sleep over his
instrument, and Beaver Brook intimated that Denver was intoxicated. All
of which gave the obstructionist at Golden a clear minute in which to
determine what to do.
If I only knew what Fred wants to have happen, he mused, I might
be able to fix it up right for him. As I don't, I'll just have to make
hash of itno, I won't, either; I'll just trim it down a bit and make
it talk backwardthat's the idea! and three words dropped will do it,
by jing! Wonder if I can get the switchboard down fine enough to cut
them out? Here she comes again.
The quarrel was concluded and Denver began to repeat the message.
Brockway's friend bent over his table with his soul in his ears and his
finger-tips. Denver was impatient, and the preliminaries chattered
through the sounder as one long word. At the final letter in the
address, the Golden man's switch-key flicked to the right and then back
again; and at the tenth word in the message the movement was repeated.
O. K., said Beaver Brook.
Repeat, clicked Denver.
No time; train's here, came back from the station in the canyon;
and Brockway's friend sat back and chuckled softly.
XX. CHIEFLY SCENIC
When the train drew up to the platform at Beaver Brook, Brockway
asked Gertrude if he should go and see if there were a message for her.
No, she said, perversely; let it find me, if it can.
It came, a minute later, by the hand of Conductor Halsey. She read
it with a little frown of perplexity gathering between the straight
Do we live or die? Brockway asked, crucially anxious to know what
his friend had been able to do for him.
Why, I don't understand it at all; it's simply Greek, after the
other one. Papa says: 'Do not return on forenoon train. We shall wait
Good; I am a true prophet, and our white day is assured.
Yyes, but I don't begin to understand how he came to change his
mind so quickly.
Perhaps it was the moral force of my impudence, ventured Brockway.
Don't make any such mistake as that, she said, quickly. Papa will
not forgive or forget that, and I am sorry you did it.
You are a bundle of inconsistencies, as you promised to be,
Brockway retorted. But I'm not sorry, and I don't pretend to be. If I
had smothered my little inspiration and given you your telegram at
Golden, you wouldn't be enjoying this magnificent scenery now.
No; and it is grand beyond words, isn't it? If it wasn't for the
name of it, I could rave over it like a veritable 'Cooky.' Can't we go
out on the platform?
Yes; but you'll get your eyes full of cinders.
I don't care. Let's go, anyway.
They did it and, for a wonder, found the rear platform of the second
observation-car unoccupied. Gertrude wanted to sit on the step, but
Brockway objected, on the score of danger from the jutting rocks; so
they stood together, bracing themselves and clinging to the hand-rails.
Show me the 'Old Man of the Mountain' when we come to it, she
said; of course, there is an 'Old Man of the Mountain'?
There is, indeed, but we passed him long agoat least, the one
that is always pointed out to the 'Cookies' as you call them. But if
you will watch the outlines of the cliffs you can find one of your own
in any half-mile of the canyon.
I don't want one if they are as cheap as that. I suppose you have
made them at a pinch, haven't you? when you had forgotten to point out
the real one?
I'm afraid I have; just as I have been obliged to invent
statistics. But that is the fault of the man with a note-book; he will
have them, you know.
Why don't you tell him the truth?
Because he is too numerous in my calling; and again, because I
don't often know enough of the truth to satisfy him.
But it is wrong to invent things, she protested, dropping her
irresponsible rôle to fight for the love of truth which was her Puritan
I agree with you; but ciceronic lying is almost a disease. It's a
paragrapher's proverb that railwaymen can't tell the truth, though I
think a good many of us try to confine ourselves to the scenic lie.
That seems to be almost necessary.
Gertrude did not reply. The bounding, swaying rear platform of a
moving train which is reeling off miles and mountain heights of a
stupendous natural panorama is not exactly the place for a
dispassionate discussion of ethical principles. It hurt her to believe
that her companion did not love truth in the abstract, and she meant to
have it out with him later; but for the moment she put duty aside and
opened the door to enthusiasm.
Just think! she exclaimed; yesterday the horizon was so far away
that it was actually invisible; and now you can almost reach out and
touch it. Please don't let me miss anything that I ought to see.
Did anyone show you 'The Mule' when you were up here last year?
It is just around the second curve ahead. Look well up the
mountain-side for a big bowlder facing the canyon; it's a picture, not
She followed his directions, grasping the hand-rails and leaning far
out to get a wider view. Brockway wanted to put his arm around her and
hold her, but not daring to, stood by to catch her if she should lose
her balance. Presently the great bowlder circled into view, and she got
a very satisfactory sight of the pictured mule on its face before a
sudden swerve of the train swept it out of range.
How wonderful! she exclaimed. How did anyone ever get up there to
It is only a 'water-painting,' as the people up here call it; a
natural discoloration on the face of the rock, he answered. Isn't it
Indeed, it is; it is almost incredible. Then, suddenly: That
isn't a scenic fib, is it?
No. If you'll agree not to flog me with my own whip, I'll promise
to tell you the truth and nothing but the truth, all day.
Isn't that a very large promise?
Brockway had a fleeting glimpse into the book of prophecy and saw
that it might easily become so. None the less, he would not go back.
Large or small, I'll keep it to the letter. But now I want to show
you something else. Stand right here beside me and watch the outlines
of those cliffs on the right; just the outline against the sky, I mean.
Follow it steadily and tell me what you see when I give the word.
The train darted around a sharp curve and sped away up one of the
few tangents in its tortuous path. Now! said Brockway, as the timbers
of a culvert roared under the trucks of the observation-car.
It's the Sphynx! she said, with a little tremor of awe in her
voice; solemn, and majestic, and grander than anything I ever
imagined! And I never even heard of it before. Do people know about
Not many; and those who do are hardened by familiarity. I have seen
it a great many times, but it always gets near to me, just as it did to
I shall never forget it. Please don't show me any more wonders just
now. I shall rave like the most foolish 'Cooky' of them all if you do.
I can't, said Brockway; I don't know any more. A shrill whistle
from the engine cut the sentence short, and Gertrude asked if they were
coming to a station.
Yes, it's Forks Creek, famous for its pies. Everybody eats pie at
the Forks. Will you climb down from the heights of the sublime and go
and eat pie with me?
Anything you say, she rejoined, laughing; and a few minutes later,
John Burton the canny was scandalized to see the President's daughter
walking up and down the narrow platform with the passenger agent,
eating her half of an apple turnover which Brockway had bought and
shared with her.
XXI. ON THE HEIGHTS
John Burton was scandalized, and he said as much to his wife when
the train was once more on its way up the canyon.
Emily, there's going to be a fracas when we get back to-night. It's
my opinion that the President sent his daughter with us to get her out
of Fred's reach.
Then it serves him right, said Mrs. Burton, complacently. She is
not a child; she's old enough to know her own mind.
That may be, but it doesn't let us out. I wish you'd go back and
sit with them awhile.
And get myself disliked? No, thank you. I may not shine as a star
in the chaperonic firmament, but I'm a human being. Think of it; put
yourself in Fred's place, if you haven't hopelessly outlived the
possibility, and see how you'd like to be duennaed at such a time.
It isn't a question of likes and but at that moment the truants
appeared to speak for themselves.
It's chilly out there in the open car, and we came in to talk and
get warm, said Gertrude. Did you get any pie, Mrs. Burton?
No; Mr. Burton wasn't as thoughtful as Fras Mr. Brockway.
Mr. Brockway was twice thoughtful, laughed Gertrude, as the
passenger agent drew a pie from under his coat and proceeded to cut it
into quarters with his pocket-knife.
Burton said, Oh, pshaw! with deprecatory emphasis, but he accepted
his allotment and ate it with the others. Afterward, when the talk took
flight into the region of badinage, he went away and devoted himself
dutifully to the Tadmorians.
When he was gone, the trio made merry with true holiday zest. For
Gertrude, the little plunge into the stream of unconventionality was
refreshing and keenly exhilarating, and she bore her part joyously,
forgetting the day of reckoning, and seeking only to make the most of
the few hours of outlawry.
Brockway, too, drank of the cup of levity, but in his inmost parts
he stood amazed with sheer joy in the presence of the real Gertrudeof
the woman he loved divested of the mask of conventionality. He had
loved her well for what he thought she was, and had been content to set
her upon a pedestal to be worshipped from afar as the apotheosis of
adorable womanhood. But the light of this later revelation
individualized her; ideals and abstractions vanished before her living,
breathing personality, and Brockway was made to know that she could
never again be to him the mere archetype of lovable woman-kind. She was
infinitely more. She was the one woman in all the world whose life
might be the complement of his; the other half of the broken talisman;
the major and truer portion of a mystic circle of which his being was
the other segment.
All of which was doubtless very romantic and unmodern in a sensible
young man of Brockway's practical and workaday upbringing; but there
are more curious seeds lying dormant in the soil of human nature than
the analyst has ever yet classified; and ideality and romanticism are
but skin-masked in many a man whose outward presentment is merely the
abc of modern realism.
So Brockway beheld and rhapsodized in secret, and laughed and
chatted openly, and sank deeper and deeper in the pit of perplexity as
the train burrowed its way into the heart of the mountains. For,
keeping even pace with the gallop of love, pride rode militant. Life
without Gertrude would be but a barren waste, said one; and, better a
desert and solitude therein than an Eden envenomed by the serpent of
inequality, retorted the other. Which proves that class distinctions
are buttressed from below no less securely than they are suspended from
above; and that feudalism in the subject has become extinct in one form
only to flourish quite vigorously in another.
But these were under-thoughts. In his proper person, the passenger
agent was doing his best to keep his promise to Gertrude; to make the
day a little oasis of care-free enjoyment in the humdrum desert of
At Georgetown, Burton proposed the transfer of the entire party to
one of the observation-cars for the better viewing of the Loop, and the
thing was done forthwith. But at the last moment Gertrude decided to
remain in the coach, and Brockway stayed with her, as a matter of
I've seen it twice, and I don't care to hang over the edge of it,
she said. Besides, it's very comfortable in here; don't you think so?
I'm not finding any fault, Brockway rejoined. I wish we might
have the coach to ourselves for the rest of the day.
Do you? I thought you had been enjoying yourself all along.
So I have, in a way; but I hate and abhor a crowdI've had to be
the nucleus of too many of them, I suppose.
What do you call a crowd? she inquired, laughing at the outburst
Three peoplesometimes. Half the pleasure of this forenoon has
been slain by the knowledge that we'll have to fight for our dinners
with the mob at that wretched little table d'hôte at Graymont.
Can't we escape it?
Not without going hungry.
I think Mr. and Mrs. Burton are going to escape it.
What makes you think that?
This, said Gertrude, pointing to a well-filled lunch-basket under
Praised be Allah! Brockway exclaimed, fervently. You can trust
Burton to look out for the small personal comforts. And he never so
much as hinted at this when I was grumbling about the dinner awhile
ago. I've a mind to punish him.
By confiscating the basket. We could run away by ourselves and have
a quiet little picnic dinner while they wrestle with the mob.
But Gertrude demurred. That would be too callously villanous, she
objected. Can't we divide with them?
And go away by ourselves with the spoils?
Yes, if you like.
I do like. I know a place, and the way to get there. Are you good
for a climb?
Brockway possessed himself of the basket, spread a newspaper on the
opposite seat, and began to make a very fair and equitable division of
I'm good for anything, she said; then she pulled off her gloves
and helped him divide the luncheon.
When the train stopped at Graymont, Burton went forward to get the
luncheon. The coach was empty when he reached it, and the looted basket
bore witness to the designs of the two young people. The general agent
wagged his head dubiously, and when he had seen the last of the
Tadmorians securely wedged into his place at the crowded table in the
hotel dining-room, he failed not to lay the burden of gloomy prophecy
once more upon the shoulders of the small person who, as he more than
half suspected, was responsible for Brockway's presence.
By that time the subjects of the prophecy were well out of sight and
hearing in the narrow ravine in which the great canyon has its
beginnings. They walked the ties to the end of the track, and beyond
that point picked their way over the rough ground until they came to a
trail leading up the northern acclivity. Here Brockway took Gertrude's
arm and together they began the ascent.
Don't forget what I told you", he cautioned; you are not to look
back until I give the word.
Should I turn into a pillar of salt if I did? she asked.
Then I'll not do it; it would be rather awkward for both of us.
A hundred feet or more above the level of the railway track they
came to a small plateau, and in the midst of it, Brockway stopped
suddenly and spun her around with her face to the southward. No
uninspired pen may set down in unmalleable phrase a description of what
she saw; nor can any tide-gauge of language, spoken or written, measure
the great wave of emotion which swept over her, choking the flood-gates
of expression. From the moment the ascending train enters the canyon at
Golden until it pauses opposite the hotel at Graymont, the scenery is
rugged and inspiring, but it belittles itself by its very nearness. But
from the plateau where they were standing, the vista expands as if by
magic. The mighty mountain at whose foot the train pauses becomes but a
foothill, and just beyond it, in indescribable grandeur and majesty,
rises the huge, snow-clad bulk of Gray's Peak, stupendous,
awe-inspiring, dazzling the eye with its unspotted mantle of shimmering
white, and slaying the sense of proportion with its immeasurable
Gertrude caught her breath, and Brockway stood uncovered beside her,
silent and watchful. When her eyes began to fill with tears, he broke
Forgive me, he said, quickly; it was almost cruel not to prepare
you, but I wanted to see if it would appeal to you as it does to me.
It is unspeakable, she said, softly. Shall we stop here?
No. He took her arm again and together they climbed higher on the
mountain-side; silently, as befitted time and place, but each with a
heartful of thoughts too large for speech.
XXII. ON THE SPUR-TRACK
At the precise moment when Gertrude and Brockway, pausing in their
breath-cutting scramble up the bowlder-strewn mountain-side, were
casting about for a suitable place in which to eat their luncheon,
President Vennor and his guests were rising from the table after a
rather early midday meal in car Naught-fifty. When the ladies had gone
to their staterooms, the President sent Quatremain upon a wholly
unnecessary errand to the post-office, and drew up a chair to smoke a
cigar with Fleetwell.
It was not for nothing that he banished the secretary. The forenoon
train from Clear Creek Canyon had arrived without bringing Gertrude;
and the wires, which he had waited upon with increasing disquietude,
still remained churlishly silent. A crisis in Gertrude's affair seemed
imminent, and, as a last resort, Mr. Vennor had resolved to admonish
Fleetwell, to the end that the collegian's wooing might be judiciously
I am afraid you have been lukewarm with Gertrude once too often,
Chester, my boy, he began, with studied bluntness. You ought by all
means to have gone up in the mountains with her to-day.
Fleetwell tried to look properly aggrieved, and succeeded fairly
well. That's rather hard on me, isn't it? when I didn't so much as
know she was going?
That is precisely the point I wished to arrive at, the President
asserted, blandly. You should have known. You can scarcely expect her
to thrust her confidence upon you.
In his way, Fleetwell could be quite as plain-spoken as his
hard-eyed cousin, and he answered the President's implication without
pretending to misunderstand it.
You mean that I've been shirking; that I haven't been properly
reading my lines in the little comedy planned by my grandfather; is
Well, not exactly shirking, perhaps, but the most observant person
would never suspect that you and Gertrude were anything more than
civilly tolerant cousins. I know her better than you do, my boy, and I
can assure you that she's not to be so lightly won. Ours is a fairly
practical family. I think I may say, but there is a streak of romance
in it which comes to the surface now and then in the women, and
Gertrude has her full share of it. Moreover, she doesn't care a pin for
the provisions of the will.
Confound the will! said the collegian. I don't see why the old
gentleman had to fall back on a medieval dodge that always defeats
Nor I; the matter would have been very much simplified if he had
not. But, unfortunately, we have to do with the fact.
It strikes me that we've had to do with it all along. I used to
think Gertrude was rather fond of me, but since this money affair has
come up, I'm not so sure of it.
Have you ever asked her? inquired the President, with an apparent
lack of interest which was no index to his anxiety.
Whyno; not in so many words, I believe. But how the deuce is a
fellow to make love to a girl when his grandfather has done it for
That, my dear Chester, is a question you ought to be able to answer
for yourself. You can hardly expect Gertrude to beg you to save her
little patrimony for her.
It was an unfortunate way of putting it, and Mr. Vennor regretted
his unwisdom when Fleetwell carried the thought to its legitimate
There it is again, you see. That cursed legacy tangles the thing
every time you make a rush at it. I can understand just how she feels
about it. If she refuses me it will cost her something; if she doesn't
there will be plenty of the clan who will say that she had an eye to
What difference will that make, so long as you know better?
The question was so deliberate and matter-of-fact that Fleetwell
forgot himself and let frankness run away with him.
That's just it; how the deuce is a fellow going to know but at
this point the cold eyes checked him, and he suddenly remembered that
he was speaking to Gertrude's father. Whereupon he stultified himself
and made a promise.
Perhaps you are right, after all, he added. Anyway, I'll have it
out with her to-night, after she comes back.
'Have it out with her' doesn't sound very lover-like, suggested
the President, mildly. I can assure you beforehand that you will have
to take a different tone with her, whether you are sincere or not;
otherwise you will waste your breath and enrich half a dozen charities
we know of.
Oh, I'll do it right, said Fleetwell, nonchalantly; but I'd give
my share of the money twice over if it didn't have to be done at
allthat is, if the money matter could be taken out of it entirely, I
They smoked on in reflective silence for five full minutes before
the President saw fit to resume the conversation. Then he said, slowly
and in his levellest tone:
You are going to speak to her to-night; very goodyou have my best
wishes, as you know. But if anything should happen; if you should agree
to disagree; it is you who must take the initiative. If you don't mean
to marry her, you must tell her so plainly, and before you have given
her a chance to refuse you. Do you understand?
Fleetwell sprang to his feet as if he had received a blow. He was a
young giant in physique, and he looked uncomfortably belligerent as he
towered above the President's chair.
By Jove, I do understand you, Cousin Francis, and I'm ashamed to
admit it! he burst out, wrathfully. The men on my side of the family
have all been gentlemen, so far as I know, and I'll not be the first to
break the record. I shall do what my grandfather expected me to
dowhat Gertrude has a right to expect me to doand in good faith;
you may be very sure of that! And having thus spoken his mind, he went
out, leaving Mr. Francis Vennor to his own reflections, which were not
XXIII. THE LAND OF HEART'S DELIGHT
Here is the place I was looking for, said Brockway, handing
Gertrude to a seat on a great fallen fir which had once been a sentinel
on the farthest outpost of the timber-line. It's three years since I
was here, but I remember this log and the little stream of snow-water.
Isn't it clear and pure?
Everything ought to be that, up here in the face of that great
shining mountain, she said; and then they spread their luncheon on the
tree-trunk between them, and pitied the crowded Tadmorians in the
little hotel below.
I feel as if I could look down benignantly on the whole world,
Gertrude declared, searching for the paper of salt and finding it not.
The things of yesterday seem immeasurably far away; and as for
to-morrow, I could almost persuade myself there isn't going to be any.
I wish there wasn't going to be any, said Brockway; but the manner
in which he attacked the cold chicken slew the pessimism in the remark.
Do you? I could almost say Amen to that, she rejoined, soberly.
You? I should have thought you would be the last person in the
world to want to stop Time's train.
She laughed softly. That is very human, isn't it? I was thinking
precisely the same thing of you. Tell me why you would like to abolish
the to-morrowsor is it only the very next one that ever will be that
you want to escape?
It's all of them, I think: but you mustn't ask me to tell you why.
Why mustn't I?
Because I can't do it and keep my promise to tell you the truth.
That is frank, at least, she retorted. I hope you are not a
conscience-stricken train-robber, or a murderer, or anything of that
Hardly, Brockway replied, helping himself to another sandwich;
but you would be quite horrified if I should tell you what I have
Do you think so? You might try me and see, she said, half pleading
and half jesting.
Brockway thought about it for a moment.
I'll do iton one condition.
You ought to be ashamed to propose conditions to me. What is it?
That you will tell me quite as truthfully why you agreed with me
about the abolition of the to-morrows.
It was Gertrude's turn to consider, but she ended by accepting the
After you, she said, with a constrained little laugh. But who
would ever think of exchanging confidences at this altitude over a
Not many, perhaps; but it's quite in keeping with our compact; we
were not to do ordinary things, you know. And I'm sure this confession
I am going to make is unpremeditated.
Is it so very dreadful?
It is, I assure you, though I can make it in five words. I am
hopelessly in lovedon't laugh, please; there isn't the slightest
element of levity in it for me.
Nevertheless, she did laugh, albeit there was pain at the catching
of her breath.
Forgive me, she said, quickly. I don't mean to be silly if I can
help it. Tell me about it, and why it is hopeless.
It's the old story of Jack and his master, Brockway continued. I
have had the audacity to fall in love with the daughter of one of my
One of your betters? I'm afraid I can't quite understand that.
Don't we live in a golden age when Jack is as good as his master, if he
choose to make himself so?
By no manner of means, asserted this modern disciple of feudalism;
the line is drawn just as sharply now as it was when Jack was a bond
thrall and his master was a swashbuckling baron.
Who draws it? the thrall or the baron?
The question opened up a new view of the matter, and Brockway took
time to think about it.
I'm not sure as to that, he said, doubtfully. I've always taken
it for granted it was the baron; but perhaps it's both of them.
You may be very sure there are two sides to that shield, as to all
others, she asserted. But tell me more about your own trouble. Is it
altogether impossible? Does thethe young woman think as you do?
It is; and I don't know what she thinks. I've never asked her, you
You haven't? And still you sit here on this log and eat cold
chicken and tell me calmly that it's hopeless! I said awhile ago that
you were very daring, but I'll retract in deference to that.
It's not exactly a lack of courage, Brockway objected, moved to
defend himself when he would much rather have done something else.
There is another obstacle, and it is insurmountable. She is richrich
in her own right, I'm told; and I am a poor man.
Pitifully so, from her point of view. So poor that if I gave her a
five-room cottage and one servant, I could do no more.
Many a woman has been happy with less.
Doubtless, but they were not born in the purple.
Some of them were, if by that you mean born with money to throw
away. I suppose you might say that of me.
Brockway suddenly found the Denver eating-house cake very dry, but
he could not take his eyes from her long enough to go and get a drink
from the rill at the log-end.
But you would never, marry a poor man, he ventured to say.
Wouldn't I? That would depend very much upon circumstances, she
rejoined, secure in the assurance that her secret was now double-locked
in a dungeon of Brockway's own building. If it were the right thing to
do I shouldn't hesitate, though in that case I should go to him as
destitute as the beggar maid did to King Cophetua.
Brockway's heart gave a great bound and then seemed to forget its
How is that? II don't understand, he stammered.
Gertrude gazed across at the shining mountain and took courage from
its calm passivity.
I will tell you, because I promised to, she said. I, too, have
money in my own right, but it is only in trust, and it will be taken
from me if I do not marry in accordance with the provisions of my
granduncle's will. So you see, unless I accept mythe person named in
the will, I shall be as dowerless as any proud poor man could ask.
But you will accept your cousin, said Brockway, quickly putting
Fleetwell's name into the hesitant little pause.
She looked steadfastly at the great peak and shook her head.
I shall not, she answered, and her voice was so low that Brockway
saw rather than heard the denial.
Why? he demanded.
She turned to him with sudden reproach in her eyes. You press me
too hardly, but I suppose I have given you the right. The reason is
because II don't think enough of him in the right way.
Tell me one other thing, if you canif you will. Do you love
someone else? His voice was steadier now, and his eyes held her so
that she could not turn back to the shining mountain, as she wanted to.
None the less, she answered him truthfully, as she had promised.
Is he a poor man?
He says he is.
As poor as you said you were a moment ago.
And you will give up all that you have hadall that you could
keepand go out into the world with him to take up life at its
If he asks me to. But he will not ask me; he is too proud.
How do you know?
His gaze wavered for an instant, and she turned away quickly.
Because he has told me so.
Brockway rose rather unsteadily and went to the rivulet to get a
drink. The sweetly maddening truth was beginning to beat its way into
his brain, and he stood dazed for a moment before he remembered that he
had brought no drinking-cup. Then he knelt by the stream, and, turning
his silk travelling-cap inside out, filled it to the brim with the
clear, cold water. His hands trembled a little, but he made shift to
carry it to her without spilling much.
It is a type of all that I have to offer you, besides myselfnot
even so much as a cup to drink out of, he said, and his voice was
steadier than his hands. Will you let me be your cup-beareralways?
She was moved to smile at the touch of old-world chivalry, but she
fell in with his mood and put his hands away gently.
Noafter you; it is I who should serve. And when he had touched
his lips to the water, she drank deeply and thanked him.
Brockway thrust the dripping cap absently into his pocket, and stood
looking down on her like a man in a maze; stood so long that she
glanced up with a quizzical little smile and said, Are you sorry?
He came to himself with a start and sat down on the tree-trunk
beside her. Sorry? You know better than that. But I do believe I'm a
bit idiotic with happiness. Are you quite sure you know what you have
Quite. I think I made up my mind last night to do itif you should
ask me. It was after our ride on the engine; after my father had let me
see what was in his mind.
Ah, yesyour father. He will be very angry, won't he?
But you will not let him make you recant?
She laughed joyously. You think you are in love with me, and yet
that shows how little you really know of me, or of the family
characteristics. We have plenty of unlovelinesses, but fickleness isn't
one of them.
Forgive me, he said, humbly; but it seems to me there is so
little to hold you, and so much to turn you aside. I
A series of shrill shrieks from the locomotive in the valley below
interrupted him, and he rose reluctantly. They're calling us in; we'll
have to go.
She took his arm and they ran down the steep declivity, across the
small plateau, and so on to the bottom of the railway cutting. Just
before they reached the train, Brockway asked if he should tell the
As you please, she replied. I shall tell my father and Cousin
Jeannette as soon as we get back.
They found the passengers all aboard and the train waiting for them,
and Mrs. Burton scolded them roundly for their misdeeds.
We had a mind to go off and leave you, she said; it would have
served you right for running away. Where ever have you been?
Up on the hill, taking in the scenery, Brockway replied; and
Gertrude abetted him with an enthusiastic description of Gray's Peak as
seen from the plateaua description which ran on without a break until
the train paused at Silver Plume, where the Tadmorians debarked to
burrow in a silver mine. Burton burrowed with them, as a matter of
course, but his wife declined to go.
I shall stay right here and keep an eye on these truants, she
declared, with great severity. And Brockway and Gertrude exchanged
comforting glancesas who should say, What matters it now?and
clasped hands under cover of the stir of debarkation. And Mrs. Burton
saw all this without seeming to, and rejoiced gleefully at the bottom
of her match-making heart.
When the Tadmorians had inspected the mine, and had come back muddy
and besprinkled with water and besmirched with candle-drippings, the
train went on its way down the canyon. Having done what he might toward
pumping the well of tourist curiosity dry on the outward journey,
Burton was given a little rest during the afternoon; and the quartette
sat together in the coach and talked commonplace inanities when they
talked at all. And the burden of even this desultory conversation fell
mainly upon the general agent and his wife. The two young people were
tranquilly happy, quite content to be going or staying, or what not, so
long as they could be together.
At Golden, Brockway ran out and secured a copy of the President's
telegram as it stood when written; and when opportunity offered, he
showed it to Gertrude.
It was purposely garbled by a friend of mine, he confessed,
shamelessly; but how much or how little I didn't know till now. I have
no excuse to offer but the one you know. I thought it was my last
chance to ever spend a day with you, and I would have done a much worse
thing rather than lose it. Can you forgive me?
Forgive you for daring to make me happy? I should be something more
or less than a woman if I didn't. But my father won't.
No, I suppose not. But you must not try to shield me. When you tell
him, let it be clearly understood that I alone am to blame. Is there
any probability that he has carried out his threat of leaving you
Not the least, she replied, confidently; it was only what you of
the West would call aa little bluff, I think.
You still think it will be better for you to tell him first? that
I'd better not go to him at once?
I do; but you may speak to him afterward, if you think best.
It must be this evening. When shall I come?
Any time after dinner. If you will watch the window of my
stateroom, I'll let you know when you can find him alone.
The day was going out in a dusty twilight, and they were again
standing on the rear platform of the second observation-car.
When the train clattered in over the switches and stopped on the
outer track of the Denver station platform, this last car was screened
by the dimly lighted hulk of the Tadmor switched in to receive its
lading. Brockway ran down the steps and swung Gertrude lightly to the
platform; after which he put his arms about her and kissed her
God knows when the next time will be, he said, with a sudden
foreboding of evil; and then he took her arm and led her swiftly across
to the private car, leaving the Burtons to go whither they would.
XXIV. THE END OF A STOP-OVER
The waiter was laying the plates for dinner when Gertrude came out
of her stateroom, and Fleetwell rose and placed a chair for her where
they would be out of earshot of the others.
Had a comfortably good time to-day? he inquired, stretching
himself lazily on the lounge at her side.
Yes. What have you been doing?
'Socializing,' as Priscilla says; cantering about all over Denver,
looking up people we shouldn't nod to at home. Where are your friends?
The Burtons? I think they went to a hotel. They are not going on
till to-morrow night.
I wonder what became of the passenger agent; I haven't seen him
since morning, said the collegian, with his eyes lying in wait to
pounce upon her secret.
He was with us, she replied, calmly, and Fleetwell sat up
Oughtn't I to be jealous? he demanded.
I don't know why you should be?
I fancy the others would say I ought to be.
For obvious reasons; aren't we supposed to be as good as engaged?
I don't know about the supposition; but we are not engaged.
No; and your father says it's my fault. Will you set the day?
Her smile was sweet and ineffable. What an enthusiastic wooer you
are, Cousin Chester. Couldn't you rake up the embers and fan them into
a tiny bit of a blaze? just for form's sake, you know.
That's nonsense, he answered, placidly. We've known each other
too long for anything of that sort. But you haven't answered my
About the day? That is nonsense, too. You know perfectly well there
isn't going to be any daynot for us.
Fleetwell drew a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair.
Don't let us make any mistake about this, he said, soberly. I'm
asking you in good faith to be my wife, you know.
And I am refusing you in equally good faith. I don't love you at
allnot in that way.
You are quite sure of that?
Yes, surer now than ever before, though I've known it all along.
Then you refuse me point blank?
He fetched another long breath and took her hand.
That's the kindest thing you ever did for me, Gerty, he said, out
of a full heart. II'm ashamed to confess it, but I've been disloyal
all along. It's
It's Hannah Beaswicke; I knew it, she said, smiling wisely. But
don't humiliate yourself; I, too, have been 'disloyal,' as you call
Yes; I'll tell you about it some timeno, not nowshaking her
headdinner is ready.
It was thus that Fleetwell kept his promise to his cousin, and there
had been never so much as a word about what Mr. Francis Vennor
considered the main question at issue, namely, the fate of Gertrude's
legacy. And when they came to the table together they were so evidently
at peace that the President drew another false conclusion and wore his
best King George smile throughout the entire dinner-hour.
At the conclusion of the meal, Fleetwell dodged the customary cigar
with his cousin. Under the circumstances he deemed it prudent to give
the chapter of accidents a clear field. Moreover, he conjectured that
Gertrude had somewhat to say to her father, and would be grateful for
an undisturbed half-hour; wherefore he proposed a stroll up-town to
Mrs. Dunham and the Misses Beaswicke, and presently left the car with
the three of them in tow.
The President was in his stateroom, refilling his cigar-case; and
when he came out, Gertrude and Quatremain were alone in the large
Where are the others? he asked, pausing at her chair to light his
They have gone up-town for a walk.
H-m; and left you behind?
I didn't care to go. She saw that her opportunity was come, and
gave the secretary a look which should have made him vanish at once. It
did not, but her father cut the knot of that difficulty.
It's a fine night; will you take a turn outside with me, while I
smoke? he said.
She acquiesced, and they went out to pace up and down the long
platform. Two turns they made in silence while Gertrude sought vainly
for words confessional, and at the third her father helped her without
When is it to be? he asked, abruptly.
She supposed he meant her marriage to Brockway, but she determined
to make him speak plainly. So she said, When is what to be?
Your marriage. Didn't you and Chester settle matters between you
just before dinner?
She laid fresh hold of her courage and answered, truthfully. Yes,
but not as you imagine. Chester asked me, because, I fancy, you told
him to; and I refused him.
She expected nothing less than an outpouring of bitter words, but
she was disappointed. Once and again they measured the length of the
great platform before he spoke. Then he said, quite temperately, she
thought, So it is the passenger agent, after all, is it?
Yes. She said it resolutely, as one who may not be moved.
Very good; you are your own mistress, and if you elect to be the
wife of a wage-earning mechanic, I suppose it's your own affair.
There was so little heat in the innuendo that it seemed scarcely
worth while to resent it; nevertheless she ventured to say:
Great-grandfather Vennor was a carpenter, and I suppose he worked for
Doubtless; but there is the better part of a century between then
and now. However, I presume you have counted the cost. You lose your
money, and that's the end of itunless Chester happens to marry
What difference would that make? It was I who set the conditions of
the will aside.
All the difference in the world. In this case, the law takes no
cognizance of intention. If Chester marries first, it would be taken as
prima facie evidence that he had prevented you from fulfilling your
part of the conditions. But that is neither here nor there; Chester is
not exactly the kind of man to be caught in the rebound; and I presume
you wouldn't be mercenary enough to wait for anything so indefinite as
his marriage, anyway.
Then you lose your money. He could not forbear the repetition.
I know it.
Does yourdoes the young man know it?
Yes; otherwise he would not have spoken.
No? There was the mildest suggestion of incredulity in the upward
inflection. Since you have made your decision, it is as well you
should think so. You are quite willing to begin at the bottom with him,
Because I meant what I said last night. You have made your bed, and
you will have to lie on it; you will get nothing from me.
We ask nothing butbut your good will. Gertrude was as
undemonstrative as the daughter of Francis Vennor had a right to be,
but his coldness went near to breaking down her fortitude.
My good will! He turned upon her almost fiercely. You have no
right to expect it. What has come over you in the last twenty-four
hours that you should override the traditions and training of your
whole life? Has this fellow but to crook his finger at you to make you
turn your back upon everything that is decent and respectable?
Don't, she said, with a little sob in her voice; I can't listen
if you abuse him. I love him; do you understand what that means?
No, I don't; you are daft, crazy, hypnotized. The gathering throng
was beginning to make privacy impossible on the platform, and he led
her back to the car. You'll do as you please in the end, I suppose,
but not here or now. He handed her up the steps of the private car and
turned to go away.
Papaone word, she pleaded. Won't you see Mr. Brockway
No; and if I do, it will be the worse for him. And when she had
entered the car, he went away quickly and climbed the stairs to the
train-despatcher's office on the second floor of the Union Depot.
Meanwhile, Brockway had eaten his supper and posted himself where he
could watch what he supposed to be the window of Gertrude's stateroom
for the promised signal. He saw the car empty itself, first of
Fleetwell and the ladies, and then of the President and his daughter,
and while he was waiting for the latter to return, Fleetwell came back,
By Jove, Mr. Brockway, this is great luck! he exclaimed. You know
Denver pretty well, don't you?
Fairly well. I knew it better when I lived here.
Do you happen to know this gentleman? handing Brockway a card with
a name written across it.
Yes; very well, indeed.
Then I wish you'd come and help me find him. I've been out in a cab
once, and the driver got lost. Will you do it?
With pleasure, if you'll get me back here quick. I have an
engagement that can't be put off.
They ran out through the building and took a carriage. Just get me
to the house, said the collegian, and you can come straight away back
in the cab, but beyond this he offered no explanations, and Brockway
gave the order to the driver.
When they reached the house in question, Fleetwell rang the bell,
and the answer from within seemed to be satisfactory. All right, he
called back from the doorway; and a few minutes later Brockway was
again on the station platform, watching the non-committal windows of
the private car.
It was while the passenger agent was up-town with Fleetwell that
President Vennor went to the despatcher's room. The result of his visit
may be told in the words of a terse order which presently clicked
through the sounder in the yardmaster's office.
J. H. M.,
Send out Car Naught-fifty, President Vennor and party, on
Number 103, ten-five this P.M.
A. F. V.
Of this Brockway knew nothing, and he haunted the vicinity of the
spur-track with great patience for the better part of two hours. At
nine-forty-five, Fleetwell and the ladies returned. They were all
laughing and chatting gayly, and when they entered the car, Brockway
gave up his vigil. It was too late to hope for a private interview with
Mr. Vennor, and he concluded to go over to the Tadmor to see if his
people were settled for the night.
Passing the telegraph office, he asked if there were any messages.
There was one; the much requested extension of the gadfly's ticket; and
thrusting it into his pocket, the passenger agent hurried across to the
Two minutes afterward, a switching-engine ran around on the
spur-track, bumped gently against the Naught-fifty, and presently
backed out into the yard with the private car in tow.
XXV. WESTWARD HO!
When Brockway boarded the Tadmor, most of the thirty-odd had gone to
bed; but a committee of three was waiting in the smoking-room on the
chance that the passenger agent would put in an appearance before the
departure of the night train for the west. The little gentleman in the
grass-cloth duster and velvet skull-cap was chairman of this committee,
and he stated its object.
We've been trying to make you more trouble, Mr. Brockway, he said,
pleasantly. Before the others went to bed, we discussed the
advisability of leaving Denver to-night, instead of in the morning. It
would give us an extra day in Salt Lake City, and that is what most of
us would like. Can it be done?
Brockway glanced at his watch and answered promptly. It'll take
sharp work; the train leaves in ten minutes. I'll try it, but if I make
it, I can't go with you. My hand-baggage is at the hotel, and there's
no time to send for it.
Ordinarily, the amendment would have killed the original
proposition; but Mr. Somers saw that in Brockway's eyes which made him
hasten to forestall argument.
I was afraid of that, he said; but it can't be helped. Of course,
we'd like to have you with us, but I believe the extra day is of
Brockway made a dumb show expressive of his gratitude. All right;
then I'll bid you all good-by, and get you out to-night, if I can.
But I ahprotest! came with shrill emphasis from the vestibule,
and the night-capped head of the gadfly was thrust around the
door-jamb. I ahstipulated
Brockway snatched the ticket-extending telegram from his pocket,
thrust it into Mr. Somers's hand, and fled without another word. One
minute later he was pleading eloquently with the train-despatcher.
Oh, say, Fred, let up! protested the man of orders. It's too
late, I tell you. The train'll pull out in two minutes, and I couldn't
raise the yard in that time.
But the passenger agent would not be denied. He carried his point,
as he usually did, and was shortly racing out across the platform,
clothed with authority to hold the train until the Tadmor could be
coupled thereto. Graffo, the conductor, was found just as he was about
to give the signal, but he waited while the switching-engine whipped
the Tadmor around and coupled it to the rear of the train, grumbling
meanwhile, as was his time-honored prerogative.
Like to know how the blazes I'm going to make time to-night, with
them two extras hooked on at the last minute! he growled; but Brockway
There's only one, he began; and when Graffo would have
contradicted him, two belated passengers came in sight, hurrying across
the platform to catch the waiting train. Brockway considerately ran
back to help them aboard. It was the general agent and his wife; and
Mrs. Burton made breathless explanations.
Changed our minds at the last minute, she gasped. John was afraid
the President might not find him with his nose in his desk when he gets
there. Then, with truly feminine irrelevance: I've been dying to get
a chance to ask you how you made outto-daywith Gertrude; quickthe
Brockway grinned. You're the best chaperon in the world, Mrs.
Burtonafter the fact.
Oh, I'm so glad. Can't you come along and visit with us in
Not for a king's ransom, retorted Brockway, laughing. You may be
very sure I sha'n't leave Denver while the Naught-fifty stays over
there on He turned to point out the President's car and went
speechless in the midst of his declaration at sight of the empty
spur-track. The glare of the masthead arc-lights left no room for
uncertainty. The private car was gone.
Why, Fred! what is the matter? queried Mrs. Burton anxiously from
the step of the sleeping-car; but at that moment Graffo swung his
lantern and the train began to move.
Brockway stood staring across at the empty spur in witless
amazement, but he sprang back out of the way when the step of the car
next to the regular sleeper brushed him in passing. The touch broke the
spell. As he started back, the sheen of the nearest electric lamp fell
fairly upon the oval medallion on the side of the moving car, and he
saw the gilt figures 050 flash for a half-second before his eyes.
In a twinkling he knew what had been done, and what he should do.
When the Tadmor came up, he caught the hand-rail and boarded the train
without so much as a thought for his belongings left behind at the
up-town hotel. The Tadmor's smoking-room was deserted, and he went in
to burn a reflective cigar, and to ponder over the probable outcome of
this latest proof of the President's resentment.
Having failed to get speech with Gertrude, he could only guess at
the result of her interview with her father, but the sudden change in
the itinerary spoke for itself, and thus far the guess was twin brother
to the truth. But two hours had intervened between Mr. Vennor's hasty
decision and the departure of Train Number 103, and many things may
befall in two hours.
XXVI. A BLIND SIDING
When the President went back to the Naught-fifty after his visit to
the despatcher, he meant to tell Gertrude at once what he had done, and
the reason therefore; but she had retreated to her stateroom, and in
reply to his tap at the door had begged to be excused. After that,
there was ample time for reflection, and the President walked the floor
of the central compartment, smoking many cigars, and dividing the time
impartially between wondering what had become of the other members of
the party, and speculating as to the probable effect upon Gertrude's
hallucination of the sudden and unannounced flitting.
Almost at the last moment, when he had begun to fear they had gone
to the theatre, Mrs. Dunham and the young people returned, full to the
lips with suppressed excitement; and in the midst of the bustle of
departure the two young women made a descent upon Gertrude's room,
while Mrs. Dunham took the President aside. What passed between them,
Quatremain, who was pretending to be asleep in the nearest chair, could
not overhear; but that Mrs. Dunham's news was startling and not
altogether unpleasant was plainly evident to the secretary.
By this time the private car had been switched to its place in the
train, and when the steady rumbling of the wheels betokened the
beginning of the westward journey, Gertrude appeared with the two young
women, and there was a dramatic little scene in the central
compartment, through which the secretary did not even pretend to sleep.
The President's daughter demanded to know where they were going, and
why she had not been told, ending by throwing herself into Mrs.
Dunham's arms and crying as if her heart would break. And, for the
first time in Quatremain's knowledge of him, the President had nothing
to say, while Fleetwell spoke his mind freely, though in terms
unintelligible to the secretary, and Mrs. Dunham bore the weeping young
woman away to the privacy of her own stateroom. After which, Mr.
Vennor, deserted of all of them, lighted another cigar and betook
himself to the rear vestibule, to what meditative end Quatremain could
The train was well out of Denver and speeding swiftly through the
night on its flight over the swelling plain. The President stood at the
rear door of his car, gazing abstractedly at the bobbing and swaying
front end of the sleeper which had been coupled to the Naught-fifty at
the moment of departure. After a time the train paused at a station,
and when it moved on again the light from the operator's bay-window
flashed upon the name over the door of the following car. The President
saw it and started back with an ejaculation which would have sounded
very like an oath, had there been any one to hear it. Then he came
close to the glass-panelled door and scowled out at the Tadmor as if it
were a thing alive and perversely and personally responsible for this
latest interference with his plans.
He was fond of boasting that he had no creed, but, in his way,
Francis Vennor was a better fatalist than many who assume the name.
When the grim humor of the relentless pursuit began to appeal to him,
the wrathful scowl relaxed by degrees and gave place to the metallic
smile. It could scarcely be prearrangement this time, he decided; it
was fate and no less; and having admitted so much, he crossed the
platforms and let himself into the ante-room of the Tadmor.
Brockway was still sitting in the smoking-room, and he was so taken
aback that he returned the President's nod of recognition no less
stiffly than it was given. Whereupon Mr. Vennor entered the
compartment, gathered up his coat-tails, and sat down beside the
passenger agent to finish his cigar.
Now Brockway inferred, naturally, that Gertrude's father had come to
have it out with him, and for the first five minutes he waited
nervously for the President to begin. Then it occurred to him that
possibly Mr. Vennor had come to accord him the interview which Gertrude
had promised to procure for him; and he spent five other minutes of
tongue-tied embarrassment trying to pull himself together sufficiently
to state his case with becoming clarity and frankness. The upshot of
all this was that they sat smoking solemnly and in phlegmatic silence
for upwards of a quarter of an hour, at the end of which time the
President rose and tossed his cigar-butt out of the window.
Going on through with your people, are you? he said, steadying
himself by the door-jamb.
Yes; as far as Salt Lake, Brockway replied, wondering if he ought
to apologize for the intention.
H-m; changed your plans rather suddenly, didn't you?
The party changed them; I wasn't notified till ten minutes before
No? I suppose you didn't know we were going on to-night, either,
did you? or did the despatcher tell you?
No one told me. I knew nothing of it till I saw the Naught-fifty in
And that was?
Just at the last momentafter the train had started, in fact.
Ah. Then I am to understand that our movements have nothing to do
with your being here now?
Brockway had begun by being studiously deferential and placable, but
the questions were growing rather personal.
You are to understand nothing of the sort, he replied. On the
contrary, I am here solely because you saw fit to change your
President Vennor was so wholly unused to anything like a retort from
a junior and an inferior that he sat down in the opposite seat and felt
mechanically in his pockets for a cigar. Brockway promptly capped the
climax of audacity by offering one of his own, and the President took
It is scarcely worth your while to be disrespectful, Mr. Brockway,
he said, when the cigar was alight.
I don't mean to be.
But you intercepted my telegram this morning, and sent me a most
I did; and a little while before that, you had tried to knock me
So I did, but the provocation was very considerable; you must admit
Cheerfully, said Brockway, who was coming to his own in the matter
of self-possession with gratifying rapidity. But I take no shame for
the telegram. As I told Miss Gertrude, I would have done a much worse
thing to compass the same end.
The President frowned and coughed dryly. The incentive was
doubtless very strong, but I am told that you have since been made
aware of the facts in the caserelative to my daughter's forfeiture of
her patrimony, I mean.
The 'incentive,' as you call it, was the only obstacle. When I
learned that it did not exist, I asked your daughter to be my wife.
Knowing that my consent would be withheld?
Taking that for grantedyes.
Very good; your frankness is commendable. Before we go any farther,
let me ask one question. Would anything I could give you induce you to
go about your businessto disappear, so to speak?
Name it, said the President, with ill-concealed satisfaction.
Your daughter's hand in marriage.
Ah;he lost his hold upon the hopeful alternative and made no
Very good again; then we may go on to other matters. How do you
expect to support a wife whose allowance of pin-money has probably
exceeded your entire income?
As many a better man has done before me, when the woman of his
choice was willing to put love before luxury, quoth Brockway, with
more philosophy than he could properly lay claim to.
H-m; love in a cottage, and all that, I suppose. It's very
romantic, but you'll pardon me if I confess I'm not able to take any
such philosophical view of the matter.
Oh, certainly; I didn't suppose you would be. But if you don't like
it, the remedy is in your own hands, said Brockway, with great
Ah; yesterday you told me I was mistaken in my man; this time it is
you who are mistaken. Gertrude will get nothing from me.
Brockway met the cool stare of the calculating eyes without
flinching, and refused to be angry.
You know very well I didn't mean that, he said, calmly. I
wouldn't touch a penny of your money under any circumstances that I can
imagine just now.
Then what do you mean? demanded the President.
Brockway thought he might as well die fighting, so he shrugged his
shoulders and made shift to look indifferent and unconcerned.
I'm well enough satisfied with my present income and prospects, and
Gertrude is quite willing to share them with me; but if you think I'm
not earning enough money, why, you are the President of a very
considerable railway company, and I'll cheerfully attack anything you
see fit to give me from the general passenger agency down.
Ha! said the President, and for once in a way he acknowledged
himself fairly outdone in cold-blooded assurance; you have the courage
of your convictions to say that to me.
Not at all, replied Brockway, riding at a gallop along the newly
discovered road to the President's favor; I merely suggest it to help
you out. I'm very well contented where I am.
Oh, you are. And yet you would consent to take service under me,
after what has passed between us? I say you have courage; I could break
you in a year.
Possibly; but you wouldn't, you know.
The President rose and held out his hand with a smile which no man
You refuse to be bullied, don't you? and you say you would attack
anything. I believe you would, and I like that; you shall be given the
opportunity, and under a harder master than you have ever had. You may
even find yourself required to make bricks without straw. Come, now,
hadn't you better retract and go about your business?
Never a word; and where Gertrude goes, I go, said Brockway, taking
the proffered hand with what show of indifference he could command.
Very well, if you will have it so. If you are of the same mind in
the morning, perhaps you'd better join us at breakfast and we can talk
it over. Will you come?
Yes, if you will tell the other members of your party why I am
The President smiled again, sardonically this time.
I think the occasion for that has gone by, he said. Good-night.
When the outer door closed behind his visitor, Brockway collapsed as
was his undoubted privilege. Then he revived under the stimulus of an
overwaxing and masterful desire to see Gertrude again before he
sleptto share the good news with her before the burden of it should
crush him. And he was considering how it might be brought about when
the engineer blew the whistle for Bending Bow.
XXVII. THE DRUMMING WHEELS
Bending Bow is but an insignificant side-track on the
mountain-buttressed plain some thirty miles from Denver; and I would
for the sake of the two young persons whose romance this is, that it
might have been a meeting-point with a delayed train.
When the first of the switch-lights flashed past the windows of the
Tadmor, Brockway went out and stood on the step ready to drop off when
the speed should slacken sufficiently to permit it. While hanging from
the hand-rail he glanced ahead and saw that which made his heart glad.
The signal-lamp at the station turned a crimson eye toward the train,
and that meant orders, and a few more seconds of precious time.
At the first shrill sigh of the air-brakes, he sprang off and ran
beside the private car, trying to peer into the darkened windows, and
taking all sorts of risks considering the hazard he ran of lighting
upon the wrong one.
But good fortune was with him. Before the smoking wheels had quite
ceased grinding fire out of the brake-shoes, he came to a window with a
tiny corner of a handkerchief fluttering beneath it. It was Gertrude's
signal, and he understood then that he had been keeping tryst on the
wrong side of the car as it stood on the spur-track in Denver. The
window was closed and curtained like the others, but it went up
noiselessly when he tapped on the glass.
Now it was pitchy dark, both within and without, but love has
sharpened senses and eyes which no night has ever yet been black enough
to befool. Frederick! said a soft voice from within, and there was
joyful surprise in the single word. Then a hand came out to him, and he
possessed himself of it as one who will keep that which is his.
God bless you, he whispered; I hardly dared hope to find you up.
I wasn't up, said the tender voice, with a touch of sweet shyness
in it; but I couldn't go to sleep for thinking how disappointed you
must be. How did you find out we were going?
By the merest chance; but it's all right nowyour father has just
been in to see me.
Has he? Oh, I hope you didn't quarrel!
Not at all, said Brockway, reassuringly. We sat together and
smoked like two Indians at a pow-wow, and neither of us said a word for
nearly half an hour. After that, he got up to go away, and then he
thought better of it and sat down again, and we had it out about the
telegrams and other things. That cleared the air a bit, and before he
left, he accepted the situation without saying so in so many words, and
promised to graft me on the C. & U. in some place where I can earn more
money. Don't cry; it's too good to be true, but the fact remains.
I'm not crying, but I'm glad enough to do a much more foolish
thing. You won't let my money make any difference now, will you?
Your money isn't in it, and I think I made your father understand
that I'd never have spoken if I hadn't known you were going to lose
But II haven't lost it. Didn't he tell you?
Tell me what?
About Cousin Chester and Hannah Beaswicke; they were married this
evening. I don't understand the legal part of it, but papa says that
saves my money. You won't let it make any difference?
Brockway gripped the small hand as if he were afraid it might escape
him after all, and tried to flog himself around to the new point of
view. It was a breath-taking process, but he compassed it more quickly
since there was no time for the nice weighing of scruples. Moreover, it
was too late to give poverty-pride a second hearing. So he said:
I can't let it make a difference now, but I shall always be glad
that I asked you when we both believed you were going to lose it. And I
ought to have guessed about your cousin's marriage, but I didn'tI
helped him find the County Clerk, and wondered why he was so anxious
about it. I'm glad you didn't have to break his heart.
She laughed happily. There was no question of hearts between us; he
knew it, and I knew it; and when he spoke to me to-night, we settled it
definitely. Are you glad or sorry? about the money, I mean.
Both, I think; glad for your sake, though.
I'll go and live in the five-roomed cottage with you, if you like,
and we'll forget all about it.
I believe you'd do itBrockway glanced up, and, seeing the red
signal still displayed, blessed the tardy operator who was doubtless
bungling the train-orderbut I shan't insist. Then with a touch of
graver earnestness: We are properly engaged now, aren't we?
I should hope soshyly.
He took a ring from his pocket and slipped it over the finger of the
It isn't every one who goes prepared, he said, with quiet humor;
it was a gift from a train-load of Grand Army people I took across
last year; and I've carried it in my pocket ever since because I didn't
think I had any right to wear diamonds. Will you wear it for me?
Will you wear it to-morrowbefore all the others? I'm coming in to
breakfast, you know. Your father asked me.
I said always.
Conductor Graffo, coming out of the telegraph office with a
scrap of tissue paper in his hand: All abo-o-ard!
That parts us again, said Brockway, sorrowfully. Good-night,
dear; God keep you safethe air-brakes sighed sympathetically, and he
kissed her hand and released ittill to-morrow. His face was at the
window, and two soft arms came out of the square of darkness and went
about his neck, and two lips that he could not see brushed his cheek.
Till to-morrow, she repeated; and then the train began to move and
she let him go quickly that he might run no risk of stumbling.
The engine groaned and strained, filling the air with a jarring as
of nearby thunder; the steam hissed from the cylinders, and the great
driving-wheels began once more to measure the rails. Brockway swung
lightly up to the step of the Tadmor, and when the last switch-lamp had
shot backward into the night, went to his berth to wrestle with his
happiness until tardy sleep came, bringing in its train a beatific
vision in which the song of the drumming wheels became the overture to
a wedding march, and the mellow blasts of the whistle rang a merry peal
THE IVORY SERIES
AMOS JUDD. By J. A. Mitchell, Editor of Life
IA. A Love Story. By Q. [Arthur T. Quiller-Couch]
THE SUICIDE CLUB. By Robert Louis Stevenson
IRRALIE'S BUSHRANGER. By E. W. Hornung
A MASTER SPIRIT. By Harriet Prescott Spofford
MADAME DELPHINE. By George W. Cable
ONE OF THE VISCONTI. By Eva Wilder Brodhead
A BOOK OF MARTYRS. By Cornelia Atwood Pratt
A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH. By E. W. Hornung
THE MAN WHO WINS. By Robert Herrick
AN INHERITANCE. By Harriet Prescott Spofford
THE OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE BLACK STOCK. By Thomas Nelson Page
LITERARY LOVE LETTERS AND OTHER STORIES. By Robert Herrick
A ROMANCE IN TRANSIT. By Francis Lynde
IN OLD NARRAGANSETT. By Alice Morse Earle
SEVEN MONTHS A PRISONER. By J. V. Hadley
IF I WERE A MAN. By Harrison Robertson
SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES. By Anna A. Rogers
A CIVILIAN ATTACHÉ. By Helen Dawes Brown