“I keep a diary--not a regulation school girl's diary, in which one
feels bound to write something every single day of the year, whether
there is anything worth recording or not--but a collection of memoranda
in which I take a good deal of satisfaction. Mine is a classified diary
and is contained in about a dozen different books which began as
mere covers with nothing between. By putting in leaves when there was
occasion the volumes grew until now several of them have attained to a
very respectable thickness.”
“Might I ask, without indiscretion, for a hint as to the nature of their
contents, or would that be----”
“Certainly; there is no secret about them. In fact I have been known to
show their pages to certain of my friends, and, to be quite honest, I
am rather proud of them. As far as I can recollect now, they are labeled
with these titles: 'Books I have read, Places I have visited, Notable
personages I have seen, Odd or eccentric characters I have met, Strange
sights I have seen, Curious dishes of which I have eaten, Rides I have
taken----”
“Do you mean,” I interposed, “that every time you take a ride you enter
an account of it in your collection?”
“I mean that whenever I ride in or on any unusual sort of conveyance
I make a note of it. That particular book dates far back into my
childhood. The idea of starting it was suggested to me by a ride I took
on a tame ostrich in South Africa.”
My increased respect for a young lady who had ridden upon an ostrich
near, if not actually in his native desert, will be understood by the
untraveled.
“You have seen something of the world,” I remarked.
“Yes,” she admitted; “I have been about with my father a great deal. An
uncle of mine, who abhors what he calls globe-trotting, tells people,
with a look of mock commiseration on his face, that I have been
everywhere except at the North Pole and in a Trappist monastery. A
slight exaggeration that, and yet not so very far from the truth either.
I have visited most of the inhabited countries of the globe, I
think, and I have had a chance to try riding in a good many peculiar
conveyances. I have ridden on an elephant in India, on a dromedary in
Egypt, in a sort of horse-litter in Persia, in a man-carriage in Japan,
in a sledge on bare ground at Funchal, on a log-raft down the Rhine, on
an Indian's back in Mexico, in the cab of a locomotive on the Southern
Pacific, in a fast newspaper train out of New York, on an open car moved
by gravity--and moved very fast, too--on that wonderful railroad
in Peru, on a small landslide among the White Mountains, in a
dwelling-house being moved through the streets of this town, in---- but
I will spare you further enumeration.''
“I hope, however, that you will let me read the catalogue for myself
some time. I no longer wonder that so successful a collector should
be eager for an additional specimen. I happen to have some little
acquaintance with the man who runs our steam-roller; perhaps I could
arrange to have your wish for a ride gratified.”
“Oh, if you _only_ could!” she exclaimed, looking so hopefully expectant
that I secretly vowed the thing should come to pass or I would know the
most unanswerable of reasons why.
I had learned that Antaeus was neither a native nor a naturalized
citizen of our town, but that he owed allegiance to a firm of
contractors in a distant city, whose delegate and sole representative
here was the Driver; consequently if I could prevail upon him to lend
Antaeus I need apprehend no interference from the town authorities.
I began upon the Driver the next forenoon. My persuasiveness took a
conventional form, for, not being gifted with an oily tongue, I was
forced to trust for success in a great measure upon my chance of
stupefying the Driver's conscience with the fumes of several superfine
cigars. I spent about two hours in company with Antaeus, taking many
turns up and down the street with him for the special purpose of
observing his manners and customs. With the advice and consent of his
guardian I learned to start, to stop, to reverse, and to steer to my own
satisfaction. I had intended to broach the important question that day,
but, fearing I might not yet have sufficiently blunted the Driver's
moral sensibilities, my courage failed at the critical moment and I
permitted myself the expensive luxury of procrastination.
The next day I found the task no easier, and so put it off again, but on
the day after I awakened to the fact that delays are dangerous and made
the fateful plunge. I frankly told the Driver the whole story, under
the belief that he would be less likely to refuse the petition of a lady
than one made in my own name.
If he had suspected all the while, from my persistent attentions, that I
had an axe to grind he did not mortify me by showing it. He accepted
my fifth cigar as he had my first, with an air of supposing it to be
offered from motives of the most disinterested friendliness.
I did not meet with success in the outset. The Driver had grave doubts
as to the propriety of “loaning” a steam-roller. Had he been a Frenchman
he might reasonably have urged that, like a tooth-brush, _ça ne se prête
pas_. However, I overcame his scruples in the end, and, probably in
the belief that “if it were done 'twere well it were done quickly,” he
agreed to deliver Antaeus into my charge that evening.
Accordingly, not long after sunset, I went across the street and called
for the young lady. I realized fully that her father and mother would
not have approved of our escapade, but they were absent from home and
I tried to believe it was not my duty to stand toward her _in loco
parentium_. She was a bit wilful too, and I feared my remonstrances
would do no good unless I carried them to the extreme of refusing my
assistance, which, after my ready offer of it, would have been uncivil
and unkind.
At an unfrequented spot, on a broad highway, near the outskirts of the
town, Antaeus and the Driver--the former under head of steam, and both
smoking--were awaiting us. We met them there by appointment at nine
o'clock. After many instructions and cautions touching the fire, the
water, the steam, the use of the levers, the necessity of keeping a
sharp lookout ahead, etc., the Driver left me in sole command, as proud
as a boy with his first bicycle.
“You find you have got into rather close quarters here, don't you?” said
I, as I perched myself upon the high seat, from which the machine was
most conveniently directed.
“The passenger accommodations might be more spacious, but all things
considered I hardly think I shall complain,” laughingly returned my
companion, who had seated herself on one of the coal-boxes behind me. “I
took the precaution not to wear my best frock, so I can stow myself away
in small compass without fear of damage.”
Having in mind the trouble I had taken, her delight in the novelty of
her situation was highly gratifying to me. She eagerly asked about the
functions of the various levers, try-cocks, and gauges, and insisted
upon being allowed to experiment with them, as well as with the steering
gear, herself. The knowledge, she said, might be useful to her in the
future. Antaeus proved to be entirely docile and allowed himself to
be guided as easily as a well-broken flesh and blood horse. The big
fly-wheel revolved, the fussy little piston pumped up and down with
an ado that seemed absurd considering the slow progress resulting, the
steam fretted and hissed, the three massive rollers bore with all
their might upon the hard surface of the macadam, and thus crunching,
clanking, thumping and rattling, we sluggishly made our way into the
obscurity of the night.
By and by, in the course of our journey, we came to a gentle rise, the
ascent of which made Antaeus puff rather laboriously. For a moment my
passenger looked slightly uneasy. “Why does it do that?” she asked.
“The exertion of going up hill makes him breathe a little hard,
naturally,” I answered, reassuring her. “He is feeling in fine
condition, though,” I added, inspecting the steam-gauge by the light of
my lantern; “the effect of a plentiful supply of oats, doubtless.”
“You speak of _it_ as _he_,” she said, questioningly.
“Certainly; why not?” I retorted. “He seems to me unequivocally
masculine.”
“True,” she assented; “still in personifying inanimate objects, are they
not more frequently made members of the other sex?”
“Undoubtedly they are, but it strikes me as a ridiculous
custom--particularly in the case of great machines. No engine, however
big, black or ungainly, but it must be spoken of by the feminine
pronoun. It is hardly a compliment to your sex, is it? Think of the
incongruity of putting, for instance, a huge steamboat, named for the
president of the company, into the feminine gender!”
She laughed at my fancy, but her merriment did not wound my
sensibilities. “So it's--I beg pardon, _his_--name is Antaeus, is it?”
“Yes, in honor of that old giant--do you recollect?--whom Hercules
overcame.”
“By lifting him quite off the ground, because as often as he came in
contact with Mother Earth his strength was renewed? Yes, I recall the
story, and I can see a certain propriety in the name. I rather think
this fellow, if he were to be lifted off the ground, could scarcely use
his great strength to advantage. Imagine him turned upon his back like a
huge beetle, kicking about frantically into the air to no purpose!”
“Undoubtedly he gets his grip from his contact with the earth,” said I.
“As a flying-machine he would hardly be a success.”
“Doesn't it strike you that he is almost unnecessarily deliberate?”
she queried, presently, with a slight show of impatience; evidently the
novelty of the adventure was beginning to wear off.
“More so than usual for the reason that we are ascending an incline;
but you must remember that Antaeus was not built for speed,” returned I,
defending my friend.
“Evidently not. He belongs to the plodders--the slow and sure sort. He
would be entered for a race in the tortoise class probably. Fancy an
absconding cashier trying to escape from justice in a steam-roller! It
would be funny, wouldn't it?”
I agreed with her that it would be very funny. “Or imagine an eloping
couple fleeing before an irate father on such a conveyance!” I
suggested, with a consciousness of blushing in the dark for the audacity
of the conceit.
“Now, that is good!” she exclaimed, seizing on my idea with an eagerness
that showed how far her thoughts were from taking the direction in
which mine had dared to stray. “What a situation for a modern realistic,
sensational drama!”
“It might be worked up into something rather impressive, I should think.
In these days of bringing steamboats, pile-drivers, fire-engines,
real water, and railway trains in upon the stage I don't know why a
steam-roller might not be given a chance.”
“Why not?” she cried, waxing enthusiastic. “Picture the scene. Enter
lovers on 'steam-roller, followed by incensed father in--in----”
“In an electric-car,” I supplied experimentally.
“Pshaw! don't be foolish!” she exclaimed thanklessly. “Followed
by father in a light gig, drawn by a spirited horse. Overtakes
lovers--demands his daughter--young man respectfully declines to give
her up. Old gentleman prepares to come and take her. Is about to descend
from gig when steamroller whistles, spirited horse begins to prance, he
is obliged to keep tight hold of reins----”
“Very good!” I put in approvingly. “Stern parent threatens direst
vengeance, horse cavorts alarmingly, parent rages unavailingly,
resolute lover pushes throttle wide open with one hand and retains firm
grip upon the helm with the other.”
“While the devoted loveress, with her own dainty hands, shovels in coal
and encourages him to stand firm----”
“By the way, that reminds me of something,” I interrupted and, getting
off my elevated seat, I bent down and opened the furnace-door; “I rather
think I should have given Antaeus his supper before now.”
In truth, I had neglected the fire altogether too long. I hastily threw
in more coal, but it was already too late to avert the consequences of
my forgetfulness. The pressure of steam was diminishing and continued
to diminish in spite of all my efforts to prevent it. Back fell the
indicator upon the dial, and more and more slowly worked the machinery
as the power behind it became less and less.
“We shall not reach the top of the hill at the present rate,” remarked
my companion. “The vital spark appears to be in danger of extinction, so
to speak.”
“In very great danger,” I sorrowfully assented as, with one last feeble
effort, Antaeus wearily gave up the struggle.
“Nor is that the worst of it,” I added, filled with a sudden
apprehension.
“What do you mean?” she asked, disquieted by my manner, though not yet
divining the inevitable outcome of the existing state of affairs.
“You had better descend to _terra firma_ unless you want to go back down
hill faster than you came up,” I replied significantly.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, comprehending the danger.
“Yes; the attraction of gravitation is going to take us back a deal
faster than Antaeus ever traveled before. Shall I help you out?”
“Can't you put on the brakes?”
“There are none; the builders of this machine did not foresee such a
contingency as this. It was not to be supposed that Antaeus ever would
fall into the unskillful hands of a bungling, blundering amateur,” said
I, calling up hard names for myself from out of the depths of my
humiliation.
“Don't reproach yourself,” she begged; “it is I who am to be blamed.”
“Shall I not help you out before it is too late?” I interposed, as
Antaeus began to gather way.
“What are you going to do,” she demanded.
“Oh, I shall stick to the ship,” I answered grimly.
“But you will get hurt if you do,” she objected.
“Antaeus will get hurt if I don't. Come!”
“No; I shall stay on board, too,” she declared heroically. “Now don't
try and persuade me to desert, for I shall not do it. Can't I be of some
use?”
Seeing that she was firm in her resolve to stand by me, I gratefully
accepted her offer of assistance, which indeed, was of considerable
value. It was important that I should keep a firm hold upon the steering
wheel, to prevent the craft from yawing, and, unless I were to be
continually screwing my head about in a very painful position, I could
not very well see the road over which we were traveling. From a position
between the coal-boxes behind me--now the front of the conveyance--she
could keep a look-out and pass the word to me when it became necessary
to correct the deviations in our course. Without her help, it is more
than probable that I should have run Antaeus ignominiottsly, perhaps
disastrously, into a ditch before reaching the foot of the incline. Even
as it was, I had my hands full.
During the ride, which certainly was one of the most disquieting,
mentally and physically, that I ever have taken, we said very little to
each other. I gripped the wheel, and she grasped the iron sides of the
coal-bunkers, between which she stood, opening her lips only to call,
“right! left!” or “steady!” as I had hastily instructed her to do for my
guidance in steering. So we rumbled and rattled and jolted on down the
hill, at continually increasing speed, until at length we reached the
base, and I drew a deep breath of relief at knowing that the worst was
over.
Arrived upon a level, our momentum gradually expended itself. From an
estimated ten-mile rate--which had seemed terrific--we slowed to a five,
to a three, to a one, to a snail's pace, and then something occurred
which, although not threatening any danger to us personally, filled our
minds with the liveliest anxiety for the safety of others. Antaeus came
to a stand-still just across the railway track.
“Well?” said my passenger, inquiringly.
“Well,” I returned, blankly, as I pulled my watch from my pocket, “this
is--interesting, to say the least.”
“Are there--how about trains?” she queried anxiously.
During the jolting of our forced--and forcible--descent our lantern
had gone out; but there was an electric lamp near, and by its light I
managed to read the hour upon my watch-dial.
“There is a train leaving the city at ten, due here at ten-seventeen; it
now lacks five minutes of that. I must go to the station and report that
the way is blocked. I am sorry to leave you--or would you prefer going
while I wait here?”
“I think it will be better for you to go.”
“Very well, then; I'll not be long.”
[Illustration: 0220]
This promise of mine was ill-advised. I hurried up the track to the
station, only to find it locked and deserted. It was not the principal
station of the town, being one of the half-dozen smaller ones strung
at short intervals along the line. In all probability it would not be
opened until a few minutes before train-time. As I knew the outcoming
train would stop at that station, and thus give me a chance to warn the
engineer of the obstruction ahead, I did not feel particularly alarmed
at not finding the agent at once. Still I was conscious of some nervous
uneasiness while awaiting his arrival.
At last he came leisurely across the street, jingling his keys as he
walked. As soon as he stepped foot upon the platform I went to 'him
and began to tell my story. I had not proceeded far with it ere he
interrupted me with a startled ejaculation.
“Great Scott! The White Mountain express!”
“What? What do you mean?” I gasped,
“New train--put on yesterday--passes here on the way in at ten-ten,
and it's more than that now!” he exclaimed in staccato, as he hastily
unlocked the station door, and, putting in his hand, seized a red
lantern that had been sitting ready lighted on the floor within.
He did not waste any more time with me, but rushed along to the end of
the platform, and then began to run with all his might down the track.
I succeeded in following him at not too great a distance, although I was
turning sick and giddy with all sorts of horrible apprehensions. Visions
of a frightful wreck photographed themselves on my brain, the shrieks of
the dying sounded prophetically in my ears, and in the midst of it all
I was selfishly deploring the fact that I should be called on to pay the
damages--at least to Antaeus--and wondering if I could contrive to get a
hardware discount off the market price of steam-rollers.
The crossing was still hidden from us around a curve when a shrill
whistling broke upon my startled ears.
“T-o-o-t!--t-o-o-t! Toot! toot!”
The agent uttered an explosive invocation to the Deity, and added in
tones of despair:
“We're too late; she's onto us!”
Still we staggered mechanically forward, until suddenly, with a cry of
warning, the agent sprang aside, and the express went thundering by.
“See here, young man,” my companion exclaimed angrily, “if this is a
put-up job----”
“But it is not!” I interposed with indignant protest. “I don't
understand it any better than you do. Certainly I left Ant--the roller
sprawled across both tracks.”
“Well, I guess it ain't there now,” dryly remarked the agent, watching
the rear lights of the fast-receding train, until they were swallowed up
in the glare of the “local's” head-light. “I must run back,” he added,
recalled to a sense of his duties. “You take this lantern and go and
see if the outward track is clear. Stand between the rails and swing
the lantern if it ain't. I'll tell the engineer to go slow and be on the
lookout.”
In another minute I was at the crossing. I looked up and down the street
for Antaeus, but neither he nor the young lady were to be seen. If
that Hercules of a locomotive actually had lifted him into the air and
carried him off his absence could not have been more conspicuous. But
naturally such a feat>could not have been accomplished, nor had it been
attempted.
The real explanation of the mysterious disappearance was this. During
my absence the fire under the boiler had been getting up, until finally
enough steam had made to start the machinery and so the roller had been
enabled to roll itself away out of danger.
I was about to start toward town, under the supposition that Antaeus had
taken that direction, when I chanced to recollect that with the levers
as I had left them he naturally must go just the opposite way--that is,
retrace the course over which he had lately come. Accordingly I set out
on the run toward the hill. Near the foot of it I found him, diagonaled
off the road-side with his nose against a tree, loudly hissing in
impotent rage at the unwelcome bar to his progress.
I jumped into the engineer's place, reversed the machinery, and without
very much trouble succeeded in getting him back into the road and
started on the homeward way. I was putting to myself an uneasy question
as to the whereabouts of my passenger, when, to my relief, I heard her
voice close at hand.
“Is it all right?” she inquired anxiously; “I feared it was going to
blow up or something, it made such a horribly distressing noise.”
“That very noise was a guarantee that he was _not_ going to blow up,”
I replied, bringing Antaeus to a stop. “He was merely getting rid of
superfluous steam through the safety-.valve. I am very glad to find you
again. Will you ride? I think we shall get on smoothly this time.”
Rather hesitatingly she allowed me to help her in. Then, after taking
the precaution to add some fuel to the fire, and to inspect the steam
and water indicators by the light of my borrowed red lantern, I opened
the throttle and started on again.
“Did the train frighten you?” I bethought myself to ask, presently.
“Oh, don't speak of it,” she returned with a shudder; “I heard it coming
from two or three miles away, and when it got nearer and nearer and you
did not return I was almost frantic. But I couldn't do anything. I
don't think it was more than a quarter of a mile distant, with the light
gleaming along the rails and making it seem even nearer, when the roller
began to move--but, oh, how slowly! I thought I should--well, if my hair
hasn't turned gray from that scare it never will do so until the natural
time for it comes, I am sure.”
“Well, the old fellow got off in time, evidently.”
“Yes; but with hardly a second to spare. He hadn't cleared the rails
of the other track when the train passed. It was a frightfully narrow
margin.”
“You were not on board all this while, I hope.”
“Oh, no; that would have been too foolhardy. But when I saw it was
making off I didn't want it--I mean _him_--to go careering and cavorting
about the country alone, so I climbed up and tried to take command. You
showed me how to use the reversing-lever, and it all seemed easy when
you were here, but when I was alone I didn't dare touch it for fear
something disastrous would happen. All I ventured to do was to take the
wheel and keep, him in the road--or rather try to do so, for I didn't
succeed very well. My strength was not equal to it. He swerved a little
and then got to going more and more on the bias, until at last, despite
all I could do to the contrary, he ran off against a tree and was
obliged to stop. Soon afterward that hissing noise began, and, fearing
an explosion, I ran and got behind the wall on the other side of the
street, and then--then you came. I don't think I ever was more rejoiced
to see anybody in all my life.”
I resisted a temptation to make a speech, which, however much in earnest
I was, might have sounded silly, and contented myself with remarking
that I was glad to have arrived in such good time, and I turned my
attention to the taking of her--and Antaeus--safe home.
I could not get to sleep after going to bed that night. The evening's
experience of itself was hardly a soporific, but there was yet another
matter to occupy my thoughts and prevent my sleeping. Should I venture
at the next favorable opportunity to put a certain question to a certain
person? If I did so what answer should I receive? I hoped and I feared
and I doubted concerning the sentiments of the said certain person
toward my unworthy self. I revolved the thing in my mind until
there seemed to be little else there but revolution. Progress in any
direction, certainly there was none. My body was hardly less restless
than my mind.
At three o'clock it flashed across me like a revelation, that I was
hungry. I had eaten a light supper hours ago, and now my stomach was
eloquent with emptiness; while the blood which should be doing good
service there was pulsing madly about in my brain to no purpose. I went
down stairs and inspected the contents of the ice-chest. Roast pork and
brown bread make rather a hearty late supper, but breakfast time was so
near I thought I would risk them--and a good deal of them.
Returning to my room, I set a lamp upon a stand at the head of the
bed and, taking the first book that came to hand--it chanced to be an
Italian grammar--I began to read. I had gone as far in the introduction
as “CC like t-ch in hatchet,” when I grew drowsy. I laid down the book,
my eyelids drooped, and there is good circumstantial evidence that a
moment later I fell asleep, lying on my back with the upper half of my
body bent into the form of a bow.
My slumbers were visited by a dream--a nightmare, composed, I estimate,
of cold roast pork and brown bread, uncomfortable bodily position, the
memory of certain occurrences in my past history, and an event to be
described later. In this dream Antaeus figured largely. He seemed to
come rolling across the bed, and me, until he had stopped upon my chest
and stomach.
[Illustration: 0228]
“What are you doing?” I asked in alarm. “Do you know you are crushing
me? Get away!”
“I dare say I am. I _weigh_ fifteen tons,” Antaeus replied, heavily
jocose. “I say,” he continued with a burst of anger, “you are an
honorable, high-minded sort of person, you are. What do you mean by
treating me so? Have you forgotten our compact? I have given you every
chance man could ask for with _her_; what have you done for me in
return? Nothing. Even worse than nothing. To faithlessness you have
added treachery. Not content with deceiving me, you have sought to
destroy me. I suppose you hoped to see my _débris_ strewn along the iron
way.”
I was conscience-stricken by his accusations; but I could refute a part
of them. “Oh, no! oh, no!” I protested, “it was an accident, I assure
you. So far from desiring such a thing, I declare that I cannot even
imagine your being reduced to _débris_. I----”
“Bah!” roared Antaeus, and in his rage he began to belch forth
smoke--smoke so thick and black that I thought I should be stifled by
it. In another moment I awoke gasping.
One feature of my dream was a reality--the smoke. The room was filled
with it, and there were flames beside. As nearly as I can guess, the
situation on which I opened my eyes had been thus brought about. While
I slept the wind had risen and, pushing inward the shade at the open
window, had pressed it against the small, unstable stand until the
latter had been tipped over, bringing the lighted lamp to the floor.
The muslin curtains had caught fire; from them the straw matting,
kerosene-soaked, had flamed up, so that now a pretty lively blaze was
in progress.
I sprang off the bed, made a snatch at some of my clothes, and got out
of the room as soon as possible. After I had helped save everything
portable, that could be saved without risk to life, I went and stood
before the house in the cool air of the early dawn and watched the
struggle between flames and flood. In the midst of my perturbation I
noticed something that struck me as being worthy of remark. I had left
Antaeus at the edge of the roadway before our gate; now the fire-engine,
Electra, had been drawn up beside him. He was maintaining strict
silence, but I hoped he was being well entertained, for Electra kept
up an incessant buzzing--woman like, quite willing to do all of the
talking. At any rate my share of our compact was now fulfilled; Antaeus
and I were quits.
In the later morning I saw the young lady. My misfortunes called forth
from her expressions of sincerest pity; indeed, she bitterly reproached
herself for having been the direct cause of them. When I described my
narrow escape from death by suffocation, she grew so pale that I thought
she must feel considerable interest in me, although I immediately
reflected that it could not be very pleasant to have one's next-door
neighbor roasted alive.
By-and-by I told her of my two dreams, and of the way in which I finally
kept faith with Antaeus.
“It is a shame that you had to burn up your house to do it,” she
commented, “when a brush-heap might have answered the purpose quite as
well.”
I thought--or I hoped--that the time had come for making a decisive move
with some chance of its being effective. I furtively possessed myself of
her hand.
“I should not regret the house so much,” said I, “if I might hope
you would deign to extend to me the favor with which Electra has made
Antaeus happy.”
This was bunglingly put, but she understood me well enough, although she
murmured in reply:
“You have it already; we are--acquainted. Surely you don't
want--anything--more.”
But she did not withdraw her hand.
I have just heard that the town fathers contemplate purchasing Antaeus
and giving him a permanent residence “within our borders.” If
this report be true, I shall use all my influence--from motives of
gratitude--to have him lodged beside the engine-house, so that he may be
near his bewitching Electra.
[Illustration: 0238]