XVII
ON THE NARROW-GAUGE
For a certain breath-cutting minute after he had made good his grasp onthe hand-rails of the rear car, Brockway was too angry to congratulatehimself. A blow, even though it be given by a senior, and that seniorthe father of the young woman with whom one chances to be in love, isnot to be borne patiently save by a philosopher or a craven, andBrockway was far enough from being either the one or the other.
But, fortunately for his own peace of mind, the young man reckoned aquick temper among his compensations. By the time he had recovered hisbreath, some subtle essence of the clean, crisp morning air had gotteninto his veins, and the insult dwindled in the perspective until itbecame less incendiary. Nay, more; before the engineer whistled forArgo, Brockway was beginning to find excuses for the exasperated father.He assumed that Gertrude was on the train with the Burtons--Mrs.Burton's message could mean no less--and Mr. Francis Vennor haddoubtless been at some pains to arrange the little plan of separation.And to find it falling to pieces at the last moment was certainly veryexasperating. Brockway admitted it cheerfully, and when he had laughedaloud at the President's discomfiture until the sore spot under hisright collar-bone ached again, he thought he was fit to venture amongthe Tadmorians. Accordingly, he made his way forward through the twoobservation-cars to the coach set apart for the thirty-odd.
His appearance was the signal for a salvo of exclamatory inquiry fromthe members of the party, but Brockway had his eyes on the occupants ofa double seat in the middle of the coach, and he assured himself thatexplanations to the thirty-odd might well wait. A moment later he wasshaking hands with Mrs. Burton and Miss Vennor.
"Dear me!" said the proxy chaperon, with shameless disingenuousness; "Iwas really beginning to be afraid you were left. Where have you been allthe 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 on?"
Mrs. Burton had seen the little incident on the station platform out ofthe tail of her eye as the train was getting under way, so she wasbarely within truthful limits when she said "No." But she looked veryhard at Brockway and succeeded in making him understand that Gertrudewas not to know anything about the plot or its marring. The young mantelegraphed acquiescence, though his leaning was rather toward straightforwardness.
"Did you rest well after your spin on the engine last night?" he askedof Gertrude.
"Quite well, thank you. Have you ever ridden on an engine, Mrs. Burton?"
"Many times," replied the marplot; and then she made small-talkdesperately, while she tried to think of some way of warning her husbandnot to be surprised at the sudden change in Brockway's itinerary for theday. Nothing better suggesting, she struck hands with temerity whenBurton appeared at the forward door with the conductor, and orderedBrockway 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 yourancients."
The small plotter breathed freer when they were gone. She knew she had alittle duel to fight with her conservative husband, and she preferred tofight it without seconds. Her premonition became a reality as soon as hereached 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 uphere 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 growingdispleasure.
But his wife detained him. "Sit down and think about it for a fewminutes, first," she said, coolly. "You are angry now, and you mustn'tforget that he's with Miss Vennor."
"By Jove! that is the very thing I'm not forgetting. I believe you weremore than half-right in your guess, yesterday; but we mustn't let themmake fools of themselves--anyway, 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 imagine--I know. He found out, somehow, that she was going withus, 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 thingwill 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 MissVennor along with us."
"Wouldn't that be assuming a great deal? You would hardly want to tellthe President that you had brought his daughter back because you wereafraid she might do something rash."
"Oh, pshaw!" said Burton, who was rather out of his element in trying topick his way among the social ploughshares.
"But that is what you will have to tell him, if we go back," sheinsisted, with delicious effrontery.
Burton thought about it for a moment, and ended by accepting the factmerely 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 hehad fallen so readily into her small trap; "but if we don't break itoff, what shall we do?"
"Do? why, nothing at all! Mr. Vennor asks us to take his daughter withus on a little pleasure-trip, and he doesn't tell us to bring her backinstanter if we happen to find Fred on the train."
Burton was silenced, but he was very far from being convinced, and hegave up the return project reluctantly, promising himself that he shouldhave a very uncomfortable day of it.
In the meantime, the two young people in the observation-car were makinghard work of it. A good many undiscussable happenings had intervenedbetween their parting and their meeting, and these interfered sadly withthe march of a casual conversation. As usually befalls, it was the youngwoman who first rose superior to the embarrassments.
"I'm glad of this day," she said, frankly, when they had exhausted thescenery, the matchless morning, the crisp air, and half a dozen othercommonplaces. "I enjoyed our trip down from Silver Plume a year ago somuch, and it seemed the height of improbability to imagine that we'dever repeat it. Did you think we ever should?"
"No, indeed," replied Brockway, truthfully; "but I have wished manytimes that we might. Once in awhile, when I was a boy, I used to get aday that was all my own--a day in which I could go where I pleased anddo as I liked. Those days are all marked with white stones now, and Ioften 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 usuallystolen, and so were doubly precious."
Brockway laughed. "Suppose we call this a stolen day, and try to make itas 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 you--youare to do nothing whatever that you meant to do. Will you agree tothat?"
"Gladly," Brockway assented, the more readily since his plans for theday had been so recently demolished and rebuilt. "We'll go where weplease, and do as we like; and for this one day nobody shall say'Don't!'"
She laughed with him, and then became suddenly grave. "It's no use; wecan'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 careof them--that's what he's here for. Moreover, I shall take it uponmyself 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 thinkabout."
"Could you?"
"You would better believe it; she is trembli
ng in her shoes this blessedminute 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 wasclattering past the Golden smelting works.
"It is Golden--you remember, don't you?" And then Brockway bethought himof something. "Will you excuse me a minute, while I get off and speak tothe agent?"
"Certainly," said Gertrude; and when the train skirted the highplatform, Brockway sprang off and ran quickly to the telegraph office.The operator was just coming out with a freshly written message in hishand.
"Hello, Fred," he said; "didn't know you were on. Do you happen to knowa Miss Gertrude Vennor? She's with John Burton's party."
"Yes," said Brockway, tingling to get hold of the message before Burtonshould come along.
"All right; give her this, will you? I can't leave that blessed wire aminute."
Brockway thrust the telegram into his pocket, dodged around the throngof station loungers, and won back to the rear platform of theobservation-car without seeing or being seen of the general agent. Thenhe 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.
"FRANCIS VENNOR."