The Cassowary; What Chanced in the Cleft Mountains
Page 27
CHAPTER XXVII
THE RELEASE
As Stafford concluded his fanciful, dreamy but, seemingly, from hismanner, most earnest story, the Far Away Lady gave him a singleappealing glance and then arose and departed for her own car. As shepassed he saw that there were tears in her eyes. They did not speak nordid they meet again that day, but he was resolved to breakfast with herin the morning.
Morning opened brilliantly and as he entered the dining car, at the timehe knew she would be there, he saw that the sun which had but justclimbed lazily above the mountain tops, was engaged in the task ofgilding her hair. He advanced with more courage than he had on the firstoccasion.
"Good morning, the world is in a good humor to-day, is it not," was hiscomment as he took his seat. "Have you noticed that the sun, whosebusiness it is to indicate the world's moods, has leaped through thewindow and is playing with your head when he isn't dancing on thetable-cloth?"
She looked up smilingly, but before she could answer, there came aninterruption. The door of the car opened and there stalked up to themthe big conductor, owner of the stubby red moustache, with a look in hiseyes which indicated that he had swift remarks to make. He broke outpromptly: "Mr. Stafford, you are wanted at the wire, and, you bet,there's something doing."
Pleasant to the looker-on, as to them, are the relations andunderstandings regarding the little side issues and incidents of lifebetween a man and woman of intelligence and education when they are inlove with each other, even though that love must be repressed andunexpressed. The interjection of the conductor was delightful to thewoman in this case, because it was an involuntary compliment to the manopposite her at the table. It was the breaking in of a fine hirelingupon the man of brains and accomplishments, the call upon him for aid inthis time of casual need. Stafford's heart danced as he caught the look,because he recognized its full significance.
And then as he rose he grinned, because he saw that the conductor wasevidently in trouble. His face indicated that. There was oneappreciative look into the face of the smiling woman and then he wentout to deal as he might with the existing condition of affairs. Herather enjoyed these frequent interviews with the coming saviors. Theyhad a smart operator at the other end of the wire and, as he hadlearned, the boss of the rescuing train was assuredly a railroad man ofmight and much acuteness. They had, as already told, indulged in averbal brush or two. Connection was made and the first thing Staffordgot was:
"Can't you chumps do anything over there?"
"Do anything!" was Stafford's reply. "Do anything! We are a dead train,lying helpless, with our nose stuck into four hundred thousand millionfeet of packed snow! What are you doing, yourselves, with all theengines you want and a snow-plow, and all the men you want? It strikesme that as butters-in you are about the worst existing."
And then from the boss of the rescuing train Stafford listened toclicked language the recollection of which was ever afterward among thedelights of his life. It referred to his personal character and to hisancestry and to a large variety of things besides. It was an admirableeffort, an oration trimmed with red exclusively.
And Stafford, understanding that something would, naturally, be expectedof him in return, cut loose with his own store of expletives. His fouryears' absence from the country had left him somewhat deficient inmodern Americanisms, but, during that time, as became a man handlinglazy coolies, he had acquired a stock of Orientalisms that were notaltogether without merit, and these he launched at the gentleman withwhom he was engaged in conversation.
Evidently the man at the other end was delighted, for this was hisreply:
"I don't know who you are who appear to be running things over there,but you seem to have some stuff in you."
"That's all right," said Stafford, "but we've got some curiosity overhere. What have you got for a snow-plow, anyhow--a mowing-machine, or areaper?"
"We'll show you, my child! Oh, we'll show you! And I've got some mightygood news for you. Things are doing. We've thrown away the trinket we'vebeen trying to use, because we've just got a new snow-plow from theEast. She's a monster, and a beauty of the new style. Why, she justlives on snow--wants a mountain of it for breakfast, two for dinner,another for supper, throws away what she doesn't eat, and throws it amile! She's eating her way toward you now, and she's eating mighty fast.She was hungrier than usual to-day. Watch our smoke, that is if you cansee it above the snow she throws, and we're making lots of smoke, too.We'll save your sinful bodies, if we can't your souls, this very day.Get ready for moving. We'll be with you somewhere between one and fouro'clock. Good-by."
Stafford gave a whoop--he couldn't help it--and imparted the good newsto those about him. In no time it was all over the train, and then, tothe accompaniment of satisfied exclamations, there was bustle and agathering together of things everywhere, for during the long wait therehad been much scattering of personal belongings. This was a businesssoon accomplished, to be followed by a period of excited waiting.
It was almost precisely three o'clock when the prisoners, listening likethose at Lucknow, heard, faint and far beyond the snowdrifts, somethinglike the piper's blast. It was the distant triumphant whoop of alocomotive. Nearer and more loudly it approached and, presently, in thedistance, could be perceived dimly a column of smoke. The advance wasnot rapid, as a matter of course, but neither was it very slow, and, atlast, the whooping monster was in sight, or, rather, not the monsteritself, but a cloud of smoke in front of which, swirling, and dense, wasa roaring snowstorm. The end was nearly reached. The relief train, itsengineers still overworking their whistles, came on, the snow-plow stilldoing its fierce work, until the two trains stood there close together,the nozzle of the locomotive resting against the snow-plow lovingly.
There was a scramble of people from the train so long imprisoned asthere was also from the rescuing train, and there followed a generaltime of hand-shaking and congratulation. Stafford had the pleasure ofmeeting the train boss with whom he had been talking in the morning, andtook a fancy to that rugged and accomplished civil engineer and railroadman at once, as evidently did the other man to him. Then came business.The boss explained the situation:
"You are in our way. We have work to do in behind you, and we can't passyou. We've got to get you back to the siding, about ten miles from here.We'll have to haul you, I suppose. Have you any coal?"
"Not ten pounds," was the answer of the engineer of the rescued train."Used it all up, and mighty carefully, too, for heat. Been using bushesfor wood. Another day and there'd have been trouble. Lucky it hasn'tbeen very cold."
"Yes, we expected that, and can supply you. We've a flat car load along.We'll haul you back to the siding and get the coal on there. It's theonly way."
The coupling was made, the slow retreat of the rescuing train to thesiding, taking over an hour, accomplished, as was the transfer of coaland water, with great difficulty and much work of trainmen, and, atlast, the train from San Francisco was itself again. It moved forward,its passengers cheering the train on the side track which was alsopulling out, but toward the West. The episode was over. Upon the rearplatform of the last car as the train drew eastward stood, all alone,the big blonde porter.
The train was whirling toward Denver. There was a great reunion aftersupper, presided over by Colonel Livingston, of course, to celebrate, asthe Young Lady expressed it, their providential escape from the largestisland of Juan Fernandez in the world, but the Far Away Lady was notpresent. Stafford wondered, and was restless and disappointed. As timewore on, he could not endure it very well, and, withdrawing quietly,went forward to her car, adjoining. What he saw as he entered--and thesight gladdened him, for he feared that she had retired--was the ladysitting alone by the window, still, and apparently dreaming. He advancedand seated himself beside her. She looked at him and smiled, but saidnothing.
"Why are you not in the Cassowary with all the rest?" he asked. "Theyare rejoicing."
She made no answer to his question: "I hope you are happy, John," she
said gently. "I heard of your marriage to the American girl at thelegation in St. Petersburg, and I prayed that"--but she never finishedthe sentence.
"Wh-a-t!" gasped Stafford, "Married! I--What the--"--and he almostforgot himself, this man fresh from handling coolies--then more gentlyand most sadly: "Agnes, you should have known better! Oh, you shouldhave known better! There was a Stafford married there, it is true, arelation of mine, a cousin. It was through him I made my Russianconnection--but, Agnes, how could you! Did you think there was room inmy heart for another woman, and so soon? But women are strangecreatures," he concluded bitterly.
She could not answer him at first, though the light which came into herface should have represented courage; she could but murmur brokenly:
"Forgive me. You must do that--but, oh, John, what could I think? It allseemed so assured. And I was half insane, and doubting all the world.And now, now you have made me very happy. I cannot tell you"--and shefailed, weakly, for words.
Every thought and impulse of the man changed on the moment. A great waveof tenderness swept over him:
"Forgive you? Of course I do," he said impetuously, "I can understand.Poor girl, you must have suffered. Who wouldn't at the unveiling of sucha man?" Then came the more regardful thought:
"WE SHALL MEET AT BREAKFAST"]
"But how is it with you, Agnes? Is life as black as ever?"
"My husband died two years ago," she barely whispered.
The eyes of those who have been long imprisoned cannot, at first, whenfreedom comes, see in the ordinary light of day, much less when it isglorious sunlight, and it was some moments before the souls' eyes ofthese two became accustomed to its splendor. Even then, no word wassaid. They were alone. He but gathered her closely in his arms andkissed her without stint. He had been starving long enough. So he heldher for a time and, when he released her and spoke at last, it was butto say in a voice by no means modulated:
"Agnes, I cannot talk, and you know why. I am going away now. We shallmeet at breakfast. I but thank God."
And so he left her.