Read A Romance in Transit Page 8


  VIII

  THE CAB OF THE TEN-WHEELER

  Engineer Maclure was leaning out of the cab window, watching for theconductor's signal, when Brockway and Gertrude came up.

  "Didn't know but you'd backed out," he said, jocosely, when they hadclimbed aboard.

  "Oh, no, indeed; we had to get word to my father," said Gertrude.

  The engineer waved them across the cab. "Make yourselves at home; the926 belongs to you as long as you want to own her. Just you pre-emptJohnnie's box over there, Fred, and make the young lady comfortable."

  Brockway stuck a propitiatory cigar into the pocket of the fireman'sjumper, and proceeded to carry out his instructions. Before the tardysignal came, Gertrude was perched upon the high seat, with her skirtsgathered up out of harm's way, and Brockway had fashioned a pad out of abunch 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 footagainst that and steady yourself. Are you quite comfortable?"

  "Quite; and you?" She looked over her shoulder to ask the question, andthe strong red glow from the open door of the fire-box glorified thesweet face.

  "Comfortable? No, that is hardly the word for it"--he tried thewindow-fastening, that he might have an excuse for bending overher--"I'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 ofthe fire-light went out suddenly with the crash of the closing door, andthe clangor of the bell made her reply inaudible. None the less, by thedim, half light of the gauge-lamp he saw her eyelashes droop and herlips say No.

  For a passing instant the social barriers went down and became as thoughthey never were. Standing beside her and blessing the clamor thatisolated them, he said:

  "Because I am here with you; because, no matter what happens to eitherof 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 heldhis peace until she spoke again. That was five full minutes afterward.For that length of time Gertrude was crushed under an avalanche of newsensations. The last switch-light in the Carvalho yards had flashed tothe rear, and the 926 was quickening her speed with sharp little forwardlunges under Maclure's skilful goading. The dizzying procession ofgrayish-white telegraph-poles hurling itself past the cab windows; thethousand clangorous voices of the great machine; the intermittent glarefrom the fire-box door, alternating with the fiery shower of sparkspouring from the smoke-stack--it was a bit of pandemonium detached anddashing through space, and she sat cowed and stunned by the rush and theuproar. But presently the warm wine of excitement began to quicken herheart-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 flyinglocomotive, but the factor of distance must be eliminated. Wherefore hebent 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 Macluregets 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 thento reduce the angle of the reversing-lever, or to increase that of thethrottle. The fireman labored steadily, swaying back and forth betweenthe coal-chute and the fire-box door, his close-fitting cap on the backof his head, and Brockway's cigar,--unlighted, in deference toGertrude,--between his teeth.

  "What dreadfully hard work it must be to shovel coal that way allnight," Gertrude said, following the rhythmic swing of the fireman'ssinewy figure with her eyes.

  "He's getting his fire into shape, now," Brockway explained. "He'll haveit easier after a bit."

  "Why doesn't he smoke his cigar?"

  Brockway smiled. "Because, down under the grime and coal-dust and otherdisguises, 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, ifhe wants to."

  Brockway obeyed, and the fireman unbent and bobbed his head inGertrude's direction. "Thank ye, ma'am," he shouted, with a good-naturedgrin on his boyish face; "but I'm thinkin' a dhry smoke's good enoughfor the lady's car"--and he bent to his work again, while the endlessprocession of telegraph-poles hurtled past with ever-increasingswiftness, 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 astorm-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 footslipped for the third time, Brockway took his courage in both hands.

  "Just lean back and brace yourself against my shoulder," he said; "I'mafraid you'll get a fall."

  She did it, and he held himself in watchful readiness to catch her ifshe 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 flyingdrive-wheels. "Not quite, but we're bettering the schedule by severalmiles. Do you still enjoy it?"

  "Yes, much; but it's very dreadful, isn't it? I don't see how he dares!"

  "Who? Maclure?"

  "Yes; or anyone else. To me it seems braver than anything I ever readof--to drive a great thing like this with so many precious lives behindit. 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 tohow much of the 'Kestrel's' lost time he can get back between this andthe end of his run."

  But the shrewd old pioneer with the Scottish name was thinking of nosuch prosaic thing. On the contrary, he was wondering who Miss Vennorwas; if she would be a worthy helpmate for the passenger agent; and ifso, how he could help matters along.

  The switch-lights of Arriba were twinkling in the distance, and his handwas on the whistle-lever, when the engineer reached a conclusion. Thenext instant Gertrude shrieked and would have tumbled ignominiously intothe fireman's scoop if Brockway had not caught her.

  "How silly of me!" she said, shame-facedly. "One would think I had neverheard a locomotive whistle before. But it was so totally unexpected."

  "I should have warned you, but I didn't think. This is Arriba; do youwant to go back?"

  Gertrude was enjoying herself keenly, after a certain barbaric andunfettered fashion hitherto undreamed of, and she was tempted to drink alittle deeper from the cup of freedom before going back to theproprieties. Moreover, there was doubtless a goodly measure of reproofawaiting her, and when she remembered this, she determined to get thefull 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 joywas about to burst, and would have multiplied words. But before he couldsay 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 spelland talk to her at the same time?"

  Brockway's nerves tingled at the bare suggestion. "Try me and see," hesaid.

  "It's a go," said Maclure. "Get her over there on my side, and I'llsmoke me a pipe out o' Johnnie's window. Swear to bob I won't lookaround once!"