Graustark - George Barr McCutcheon

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ends of her long coat fluttering.

      Lorry stood on the platform watching her; then he lighted a cigarette and followed. He had a vague feeling that she ought not to be alone with all the workmen. She started to come back before he reached her, however, and he turned again toward the station. Then he heard a sudden whistle, and a minute later from the end of the street he saw the train pulling out. Lorry had rather distinguished himself in college as a runner, and instinctively he dashed up the street, reaching the tracks just in time to catch the railing of the last coach. But there he stopped and stood with thumping heart while the coaches slid smoothly up the track, leaving him behind. He remembered he was not the only one left, and he panted and smiled. It occurred to him—when it was too late—that he might have got on the train and pulled the rope or called the conductor, but that was out of the question now. After all, it might not be such a merry game to stay in that filthy little town; it did not follow that she would prove friendly.

      A few moments later she appeared—wholly unconscious of what had happened. A glance down the track and her face was the picture of despair.

      Then she saw him coming toward her with long strides, flushed and excited. Regardless of appearances, conditions or consequences, she hurried to meet him.

      “Where is the train?” she gasped, as the distance between them grew short, her blue eyes seeking his beseechingly, her hands clasped.

      “It has gone.”

      “Gone? And we—we are left?”

      He nodded, delighted by the word “we.”

      “The conductor said thirty minutes; it has been but twenty,” she cried, half tearfully, half angrily, looking at her watch. “Oh, what shall I do?” she went on, distractedly. He had enjoyed the sweet, despairing tones, but this last wail called for manly and instant action.

      “Can we catch the train? We must! I will give one thousand dollars. I must catch it.” She had placed her gloved hand against a telegraph pole to steady her trembling, but her face was resolute, imperious, commanding.

      She was ordering him to obey as she would have commanded a slave. In her voice there was authority, in her eye there was fear. She could control the one but not the other.

      “We cannot catch the flyer. I want to catch it as much as you and”—here he straightened himself—“I would add a thousand to yours.” He hesitated a moment-thinking. “There is but one way, and no time to lose.”

      With this he turned and ran rapidly toward the little depot and telegraph office.

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      Lorry wasted very little time. He dashed into the depot and up to the operator's window.

      “What's the nearest station east of here?”

      “P——,” leisurely answered the agent, in some surprise.

      “How far is it?”

      “Four miles.”

      “Telegraph ahead and hold the train that just left here.”

      “The train don't stop there.”

      “It's got to stop there—or there'll be more trouble than this road has had since it began business. The conductor pulled out and left two of his passengers—gave out wrong information, and he'll have to hold his train there or bring her back here. If you don't send that order I'll report you as well as the conductor.” Grenfall's manner was commanding. The agent's impression was that he was important that he had a right to give orders. But he hesitated.

      “There's no way for you but to get to P—— anyway,” he said, while turning the matter over in his mind.

      “You stop that train! I'll get there inside of twenty minutes. Now, be quick! Wire them to hold her—or there'll be an order from headquarters for some ninety-day lay-offs.” The agent stared at him; then turned to his instrument, and the message went forward. Lorry rushed out. On the platform he nearly ran over the hurrying figure in the tan coat.

      “Pardon me. I'll explain things in a minute,” he gasped, and dashed away. Her troubled eyes blinked with astonishment.

      At the end of the platform stood a mountain coach, along the sides of which was printed in yellow letters: “Happy Springs.” The driver was climbing up to his seat and the cumbersome trap was empty.

      “Want to make ten dollars?” cried Grenfall.

      “What say?” demanded the driver, half falling to the ground.

      “Get me to P—— inside of twenty minutes, and I'll give you ten dollars. Hurry up! Answer!”

      “Yes, but, you see, I'm hired to—”

      “Oh, that's all right! You'll never make money easier. Can you get us there in twenty minutes?”

      “It's four mile, pardner, and not very good road, either. Pile in, and we'll make it er kill old Hip and Jim. Miss the train?”

      “Get yourself ready for a race with an express train and don't ask questions. Kill 'em both if you have to. I'll be back in a second!”

      Back to the station he tore. She was standing near the door, looking up the track miserably. Already night was falling. Men were lighting the switch lanterns and the mountains were turning into great dark shadows.

      “Come quickly; I have a wagon out here.”

      Resistlessly she was hurried along and fairly shoved through the open door of the odd-looking coach. He was beside her on the seat in an instant, and her bewildered ears heard him say:

      “Drive like the very deuce!” Then the door slammed, the driver clattered up to his seat, and the horses were off with a rush.

      “Where are we going?” she demanded, sitting very straight and defiant.

      “After that train—I'll tell you all about it when I get my breath. This is to be the quickest escape from a dilemma on record—providing it is an escape.” By this time they were bumping along the flinty road at a lively rate, jolting about on the seat in a most disconcerting manner. After a few long, deep breaths he told her how the ride in the Springs hack had been conceived and of the arrangement he had made with the despatcher. He furthermore acquainted her with the cause of his being left when he might have caught the train.

      “Just as I reached the track, out of breath but rejoicing, I remembered having seen you on that side street, and knew that you would be left. It would have been heartless to leave you here without protection, so I felt it my duty to let the train go and help you out of a very ugly predicament.”

      “How can I ever repay you?” she murmured. “It was so good and so thoughtful of you. Oh, I should have died had I been left here alone. Do you not think my uncle will miss me and have the train sent back?” she went on sagely.

      “That's so!” he exclaimed, somewhat disconcerted. “But I don't know, either. He may not miss you for a long time, thinking you are in some other car, you know. That could easily happen,” triumphantly.

      “Can this man get us to the next station in time?” she questioned, looking at the black mountains and the dense foliage. It was now quite dark.

      “If he doesn't bump us to death before we get half way there. He's driving like the wind.”

      “You must let me pay half his bill,” she said, decidedly, from the dark corner in which she was huddling.

      He could find no response to this peremptory request.

      “The road is growing rougher. If you will allow me to make a suggestion, I think you will see

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