The trainmen were too busy with the hoboes to disturb us, or they
considered the rail cars too dangerous for the most daring adventurer,
for we were left in peace.
The rails grated and chafed as we rocked along. I took a look at Dan,
who grew a trifle white about the lips when the rails shifted a little.
I was full of content as I realised that we were making good progress,
and laid my head on the bundle and slept.
It was night and Dan was shaking me and whispering in my ear when I
wakened. Staggering up, I gazed about, bewildered. Taking my hand, Dan
led me out of the car, which stood on a siding, and across the tracks
away from the lighted street of a town.
“This is an awfully tough town,” he said softly. “The rail cars were cut
out here, and I went for fresh water. I never saw so much drunkenness or
so many toughs in my life. We must get away before morning if we
possibly can.”
A distant whistle announced the approach of an engine. A long train of
tank cars clanked to a standstill. We advanced hopefully, but not a car
was open. The yard was dark and we chose a tank car close behind the
engine. A narrow ledge projected in front, and on this we perched—feet
dangling and backs close pressed against the end of the great cylinder.
The engineer and brakeman sauntered up and paused close by. The brakie
carried a lantern in one hand and rested the other not two feet from my
side. There they stood and talked while we almost ceased breathing. But
the deep shadow of the tank concealed us, and they separated, leaving us
undiscovered.
Then began the wildest ride of my career. That engineer seemed speeding
to the bedside of a dying friend, or perchance, to some sweetheart who
awaited his coming. The crest of the mountain range was past and the
train shot like a meteor round shouldering hills and through the steep
ravines. The tank car leaped and plunged like a thing of life,
threatening to leave the rails at each sharp turn of the road. Balancing
perilously, we clung like limpets to the narrow shelf, while a wild
thrill, born of the rapid motion through the mountain fastnesses with
the night wind fanning my face, drove all fear from my mind. I could
have shouted with pure delight and felt that I need only will it and my
soul would part company with all material things to soar to meet the
stars that blazed overhead.
The first flush of dawn brightened the sky as the lights of a good sized
town appeared ahead. We gathered ourselves up for the leap. The train
slowed and entered a long railroad yard. A group of men, lanterns in
hand, stood at one side of the track, and as they caught sight of us,
they set up a shout and raced for the train. A dozen cars swept past
before they were able to board it, and we saw them moving forward around
the awkward tank cars. A single glance identified them.
“We’ll have to jump quick before the brutes get any nearer,” I cried.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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