CHAPTER XVI.
RECALLED AND DISMISSED.
AFTER the unexpected honor shown him by the boys of the 50th, Myles,accompanied by Billings, went to the hotel, where they both enjoyed theluxury of a much-needed bath. When they were ready to dress, Billings,gazing ruefully at his soiled linen, called out to Myles:
“I say, old man, haven’t you got a clean shirt to lend a fellow!”
“Why, yes,” replied Myles, “of course I can lend you one, but—”here he held out the garment in question, and looked at itdoubtfully—“don’t you think it will be a little large for you?”
“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Billings, cheerfully. “I always likemy things loose and roomy.”
He certainly had what he liked in this case; for, when arrayed in theshirt and one of Myles’ standing collars, which was three sizes toolarge, there was little to be seen of him below the eyes that twinkledmerrily over the edge of the encircling linen. When, thus enveloped,he appeared on the street, he was everywhere greeted with roars oflaughter. It came to be considered a fine joke among his tall friendsof the 50th to catch hold of this collar, pull it up, and, gazing downinto it as if in search of him, to call out:
“Hello, little one! Come up here a minute, I want to speak to you.”
For answer Billings, making a telescope of his hands, and gazingvaguely upward, would shout back:
“No, I guess not, thank you. It looks pretty cold up there in theclouds.”
Within an hour after the arrival of the New York troops, MountainJunction underwent a marvellous change. Its streets were quietand orderly, its saloons closed, and a cordon of slowly pacing,gray-uniformed sentinels completely encircled the great area containingthe property of the railroad company. The regiment was quartered inone of the roomy car-shops, and during the four days that it remainedthere not a man below the grade of captain was permitted to strollbeyond the sentry line except under orders. The telegraph wires wererepaired, and Colonel Pepper announced publicly that on and after thatdate passenger-trains, strongly guarded, would be run regularly botheast and west from that point. The strikers were not to be molested, orinterfered with in any way, unless they undertook to obstruct travelor destroy property, but they would do either of these things at theirperil. He also gave notice that a train would leave Mountain Junctionfor New York that afternoon.
In the meantime Myles had been so fully occupied with the stirringevents of the day, that it was not until he and Billings were in thehotel together that he thought to ask the latter how long he intendedremaining at Mountain Junction, and whether he brought any orders fromthe office for him.
“Why, yes,” replied Billings, “that reminds me that I have a notefor you from Mr. Haxall. My orders are to remain here as long as theregiment does, and to return with it. Here’s your note now.”
Opening it Myles read:
“MR. MANNING:
“Upon receiving this note from Mr. Billings you will return to New York and report at this office immediately. Mr. Billings will furnish what money is needed to meet your current expenses.
“Yours etc.,
“J. HAXALL, _City Editor_.”
“That’s too bad,” said Billings, as Myles read this short but verydecided communication aloud. “I thought you and I were to work togetherhere as we did at New London. Well, it can’t mean anything, except thatJoe has got some better job for you. It must be something importanttoo. But of course you won’t think of starting before to-morrow?”
“The note says ‘immediately,’” replied Myles.
“Yes, I know; but even then it can’t mean that a fellow who has beenthrough what you have to-day, and is all knocked up, should set off onthe road again without a chance to pull himself together. Why, you canget a doctor’s certificate that you are not fit to travel, and won’t befor several days.”
“A doctor’s certificate might satisfy Mr. Haxall, but it would notsatisfy me,” replied Myles, with a faint smile. “I know that I amperfectly well able to travel, and that the ride to New York won’t hurtme any more than staying here.”
Nothing that Billings could say had any effect upon this determination,and when, a few hours later, a train, guarded by a full company ofthe 50th, was made up for New York, Myles was among its passengers.A number of his new-found soldier friends crowded about him, full ofregret at his departure, and urging him to remain with them at leastfor that night. To them Myles only answered that he was under orders aswell as they, and must obey them.
The train was ready to start. The conductor was shouting “All aboard!”and Billings was bidding his friend good-bye, when Myles suddenlyexclaimed:
“Oh, Billings, I owe the telegraph operator here fifty dollars. Heloaned it to me yesterday, and since then I haven’t had a chance to seehim. Will you find and thank him for me, and tell him I will write, andreturn the money as soon as I reach New York?”
“All right!” shouted Billings, as he stepped from the moving train.“That and all other commissions executed by yours truly, at moderatecharge.”
The captain commanding the escort that accompanied the traincame and sat down beside the young reporter. He was a quiet butdetermined-looking fellow, as sun-browned and broad-shoulderedas Myles himself. His intelligent conversation served to banishthe anxious thoughts that on account of his unexpected recall werebeginning to oppress the latter. Myles could not help contrasting hismanner with the boastful swagger of Lieutenant Easter and the neat grayuniform worn by his present companion with the gorgeous plumage of theother. He interested the captain, whose name was Ellis, by describingthe capture of the train on which he had ridden the day before, andthe comical plight to which its escort had been reduced. When he toldCaptain Ellis that the assistant division superintendent had also beenmade a prisoner and carried off by the strikers the other said:
“He must have escaped then, for I heard of him in his uncle’s officejust before we started. The colonel was talking to the superintendent,and, as I went in for final instructions, I heard the latter say thathis assistant had only just returned from a trip over the westerndivision and that——”
“The superintendent!” exclaimed Myles. “The division superintendent? Ishe at Mountain Junction?”
“Yes, he came in on a special a few minutes before we left andreported that no new damage had been done to the track.”
This was startling information to Myles, for it recalled the fact,which he had utterly forgotten, that he still had the key of the safe.
Supposing the superintendent should even now be asking for it and Benshould be obliged to confess that it was not in his possession. Whatwould be the result? Of what might not poor Ben be suspected? He hadnot dreamed of such a complication as this. Why had he been such a foolas to insist upon having that key anyhow? After all, it was none of hisbusiness to try to guard the company’s property in that way. If theytrusted Ben and he was unworthy, that was their own affair. Now whatwas to be done?
So occupied was Myles with this train of thought that his companionasked him a question unheeded; and, thinking it had not been heardabove the noise of the cars, he repeated it.
“I beg your pardon,” said Myles, starting from his reverie, “did youspeak?”
“I only asked if you ever met the division superintendent?”
“No, I never did. But I have got the key to his safe, and waswondering how I could return it most quickly.”
“That is curious,” said the captain. “Was it intrusted to your keepingfor fear lest the strikers might get hold of it?”
“Yes—that is, not exactly. It was intrusted to my keeping, but notwholly on account of the strikers,” replied Myles, with some confusion.“You see, I can’t tell you how it came into my possession withoutbreaking a promise, but if it is not returned at once I am afraidtrouble will result.”
“Does not the division superintendent know that you have it?” asked thecaptain, with an air of surprise.
“No; that’s just it; and I wouldn’t have
him know it if it could behelped.”
The captain was more than ever puzzled by this, but was far too politeto give utterance to his thoughts.
“You might return it by express,” he suggested.
“So I might,” said Myles, brightening at the thought. “Yes, that’s whatI’ll do. I’ll send it back by express from the first station.”
With this he drew the troublesome key from his pocket, where ithad remained for two days unthought of, and the captain gazed at itcuriously. They hunted up some brown wrapping-paper and did the key upin a package that was left with the express agent at the next station.It was directed to the Assistant Superintendent, Western Division, A. &B. R. R., and the charges on it were paid.
“There is no danger but that it will get there all right?” asked Myles,anxiously, of the agent.
“Oh, no,” was the reply. “Thanks to these gentlemen,” nodding to thegray-uniformed soldiers outside, “trains are running pretty regularlynow. Our matter goes through all right, anyhow, whenever there is anything to carry it, for the strikers haven’t any fight with the expresscompany. They only stop freight and passengers.”
So having satisfied himself that he had done the best thing under thecircumstances, Myles returned to the train and dismissed the matterfrom his mind.
Captain Ellis, with his command, left the train at the eastern end ofthe Central Division, where they were to remain until the followingday, and then return to Mountain Junction. It was quite late at nightwhen Myles bade these friends good-bye. Soon afterward he arrangedhimself as comfortably as possible in the car seat and fell asleep.When he next awoke his train was nearing New York and a boy was callingthe morning papers close beside him.
Myles bought a _Phonograph_, curious to read the news of the greatstrike; for, though he was so well acquainted with what had taken placeat and near Mountain Junction, it was four days since he had seen adaily paper, and he knew nothing of occurrences in other parts of thecountry. What was the heading of the first column on the first page?Was he reading it rightly? He went over it again slowly. Yes, there wasno mistake. The heading was as plain as type could make it, and it was:“The Great Railroad Strike. Arrival of the 50th Regiment, N. G. S. N.Y. at Mountain Junction. Thrilling Details of their Trip. Daring Deedof a _Phonograph_ Reporter. A Terrible Disaster Averted by his ReadyWit and Prompt Action. The Regiment Appreciates his Service.”
What could it all mean? Could these flattering words refer to him andwhat he had done? Yes, they could and did. As he read down the longcolumn he found his own name mentioned more than once. There was afull, though perhaps slightly exaggerated, account of his ride, thewreck of his hand-car, the stopping of the train in consequence just intime, and the subsequent scene at Mountain Junction.
How fine it all looked in print! How much more daring and splendid thewhole affair seemed now than it had twenty-four hours before, when he,stunned and bruised, was being told that he deserved to be hanged!
“Good for you, Billings, old man! Wait till I get a chance to tell thepublic what a splendid fellow you are, and what fine fellows all wereporters are any way. Perhaps we won’t be sneered at now so much as wehave been.”
Thus thinking, and filled with a very pardonable pride, Myles read andre-read the story. As the train rolled into the station and he steppedfrom it he wondered if people would stare at him and point him out toeach other. He wished he could meet some acquaintance who would callhim by name; for, of course, everybody had read the account of hisdoings and would recognize _the_ Myles Manning at once. How strangethat people should be going about their every-day business as if itwere the one thing in the world of importance, and great events, worthyof record in the newspapers, were not happening! How commonplace andtrivial the things that interested them seemed to him now, in the lightof what had so recently taken place!
His first plan was to go directly to the _Phonograph_ office. No, itwas too early. Nobody would be there yet. Then he thought he would goto his room, get a change of clothing, and make himself presentable.Would it not be more effective, though, to appear in the office stillbearing signs of his late experience? Myles thought it would. He wouldfirst get breakfast at a restaurant and then decide what to do next.
By the way, supposing they should see the paper at home? Of coursethey would, or had by this time. He had subscribed for it and orderedit sent to them when he first became a reporter. What a state of mindthey would be in! He ought to telegraph them at once. Acting uponthis impulse he stopped at the first telegraph station and sent thefollowing dispatch to his mother:
“Do not be anxious. Am safe. Will be out to-night.
“MYLES.”
There, that would allay their anxiety, and it was neatly done in justten words. He wrote “Will be out to-night” because it was Saturday, andhe meant to spend the following day at home.
Now for breakfast. In the restaurant an intelligent-looking gentlemansat on the opposite side of his table. He had no morning paper, andMyles offered him the _Phonograph_, anxious to see what effect thatfirst-column story would have upon him. The gentleman thanked himpolitely, took the paper, glanced carelessly through it, and returnedit without comment.
“Exciting story of the strike, isn’t?” ventured Myles.
“Didn’t notice it,” answered the other. “I’m tired of all thesestrikes, and never waste time reading about them. Life’s too short.”
Myles replied: “Yes, that is so.” But he thought: “What a stupidfellow!”
After all he reached the _Phonograph_ office before any of the otherreporters. Mr. Haxall sat in the great room alone. He glanced up fromhis papers as Myles entered and said:
“Ah, Mr. Manning, that you? Step here a moment, please.”
“Now for a real triumph,” thought Myles. “He must say something inpraise for what I have done.”
“You have been absent from this office for five days at MountainJunction, I believe,” said Mr. Haxall.
“Yes, sir.”
“And in that time we have received but one dispatch from you?”
“Well, sir, I can explain—” began Myles, eagerly.
“Perhaps this is a sufficient explanation,” interrupted Mr. Haxall,handing him a telegram.
It was: “Your reporter at Mountain Junction too drunk to send any newsto-night. Better replace him with a sober man.” And the telegram wasdated five days before.
Myles felt as though some one had struck him a blow full in the face.
“But, Mr. Haxall—” he began.
“This office can accept no excuse for such a neglect of duty as that,Mr. Manning,” said the city editor. “I am very sorry, but I am obligedto ask you to please hand the key of your desk to Mr. Brown.”