Dreiser, Theodore, 1871-1945; Journalists -- United States -- Biography; Novelists, American -- 20th century -- Biography
“How now?” I asked myself. “The _Globe_ has sent that swine! Here he is,
and these country detectives and railroad men will be sure, on the
instant, to make friends with him and do their best to serve him. They
like that sort of man. They may even give him details which they will
refuse to give me. I shall have to interview my man in front of him, and
he will get the benefit of all my questions! At his request they may
even refuse to let me interview him!”
I returned to my seat nervous and much troubled, all the more so because
I now recalled Galvin’s threat. But I was determined to give him the
tussle of his life. Now we would see whether he could beat me or
not—not, if fair play were exercised; of that I felt confident. Why, he
could not even write a decent line! Why should I be afraid of him?...
But I was, just the same.
As the dreary local drew near Pacific I became more and more nervous.
When we drew up at the platform I jumped down, all alive with the
determination not to be outdone. I saw Galvin leap out, and on the
instant he spied me. I never saw a face change more quickly from an
expression of ease and assurance to one of bristling opposition and
distrust. How he hated me. He looked about to see who else might
dismount, then, seeing no one, he bustled up to the station agent to see
when the train from the west was due. I decided not to trail, and sought
information from the conductor, who assured me that the eastbound
express would probably be on time, five minutes later.
“It always stops here, does it?” I inquired anxiously.
“It always stops.”
As we talked Galvin came back to the platform and stood looking up the
track. Our train now pulled out, and a few minutes later the whistle of
the express was heard. Now for a real contest, I thought. Somewhere in
one of those cars would be the bandit surrounded by detectives, and my
duty was to get to him first, to explain who I was and begin my
questioning, overawing Galvin perhaps with the ease with which I should
take charge. Maybe the bandit would not want to talk; if so I must make
him, cajole him or his captors, or both. No doubt, since I was the
better interviewer, or so I thought, I should have to do all the
talking, and this wretch would make notes or make a deal with the
detectives while I was talking. In a few moments the train was rolling
into the station, and then I saw my friend Galvin leap aboard and with
that iron effrontery and savageness which I always hated in him, begin
to race through the cars. I was about to follow him when I saw the
conductor stepping down beside me.
“Is that train robber they are bringing in from Bald Knob on here? I’m
from the _Republic_, and I’ve been sent out here to interview him.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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