I said “cold world” because it sounded appropriate. As a matter of fact
the world was anything but cold to-day. The sun seemed warm enough for
April, the paths in places were inches deep in slush and water and
from the eaves of the building there fell a miniature Niagara. Kid
thought wistfully of his arctics, reposing uselessly in his closet
upstairs, as he hurried down the drive, plowing through snow and slush.
By the time he was out on the road his shoes were very wet, his old
red sweater too warm and the ulster over his arm too heavy. Half a
mile from school he was thinking distastefully of the forty long miles
stretching between him and the Hudson. He didn’t feel nearly so well as
he had in bed; at the end of the first mile, while he was skirting the
village, he became weak and dizzy and had to sit down on a stone wall.
The dizziness passed, however, and presently he took up his journey
again. But already the first enthusiasm was gone. The world looked
extremely large, much too large for a small boy with two very wet feet
and a “goneness” in his tummy. The shortest way to the river was by the
railroad, whose single line of track ran almost due east, and so Kid,
once beyond Mt. Pleasant, climbed up the embankment and began walking
the ties. For a while the novelty interested him. Then, the ties having
been laid all wrong for such short legs, he tried walking on the rails.
About that time he approached a group of workmen and pulled his cap
down further over his face as he passed. One sang out to him in Italian
and Kid hurried his steps. They were not a nice looking lot of men. By
two o’clock Kid had done some three miles. That left only thirty-seven,
he reflected. If he walked ten miles more before dark――his heart sank.
Where was he to spend the night? Two silver half-dollars, a dime and
two pennies looked horribly small just then. He would either have to
beg or run out of funds long before he reached the river. He stopped
and gazed irresolutely back toward Mt. Pleasant. He sort of wished he
had waited until he had more money. Running away to be a sailor was
fast losing its glamour. With a very, very little encouragement Kid
would have turned and retraced his steps. But there was no one there
to offer the encouragement; only the spires of the churches in Mt.
Pleasant which, showing above the trees, seemed to beckon him. But it
was too late now, Kid told himself with a sigh that was almost a sob;
the die was cast; he must go on! So on he went, his legs getting tired
and tireder and his stomach, weak from his sickness and empty of food,
rebelling more and more. Progress was slow. A curve in the track shut
off the distant view of the spires and it seemed to Kid that the last
bond had been severed.
The track here had been cut through the side of a low hill and the
banks of earth arose high on each side of him so that his footsteps on
the wet ties echoed back and made him feel more depressed and lonesome
than ever. The cut extended for several hundred feet, always turning
gradually around the base of the hill. On the south side the snow
covered the bank and tiny glaciers had formed, but across the track the
warmth of the sun had melted the snow and little rivulets of water were
wearing runways into the gravel. Kid had passed the middle of the cut
and the Banks on either side had diminished in height when he saw that
a few yards ahead one rail was buried almost a foot deep in sand and
gravel and small stones. Kid hurried forward. There had been a slide of
earth from the bank. Frost and sun had combined to deposit a ton or so
of earth between the bank and the middle of the track, and the rail on
that side for a space of several feet was hidden deep. Kid was vaguely
troubled. He didn’t know much about such matters, but it seemed to him
that if a train came along it would have some difficulty getting over
it. Well, he supposed it was no affair of his. The engineer would see
it and stop the train and shovel it off; that was about what would
happen, he supposed. Only, because of the curve, perhaps the engineer
wouldn’t see it in time. Then there’d be an awful jounce――worse than
when you went over a curbing in an automobile; Kid had done that once
and knew――and perhaps the wheel might get off the rail and there’d be
an accident. He wished the track were straighter so the engineer would
be certain to see the obstruction in time. He began to think that
perhaps it was his duty to do something about it, to tell someone. But
who was there to tell? The track-workers were a mile behind by now
and a train might come long before he could reach them. Besides, he
reflected, since they were Italians, he wasn’t at all certain he could
make them understand!
Kid sat down on a convenient rock across the track and frowned over
the problem. Of course, as there was only one pair of rails, trains
could only come from one direction at a time. If he only knew which
direction the next train would come from he could go that way and warn
the engineer. He tugged at his leather fob and grunted until a small
silver watch slipped into sight. Nearly half past two. The afternoon
train from New York reached Mt. Pleasant at――why, it was almost due
there now! Kid bounded to his feet and set off down the track as fast
as his legs would take him. He reached the end of the cut and the track
straightened ahead of him for a quarter of a mile. There was nothing in
sight. Out of breath and tuckered, he stopped and listened. At first
he heard nothing but the pounding of his heart. Then there came a low
hum from the distance, which might or might not be the sound of an
approaching train. Kid remembered that if you laid your ear to a rail
you could hear a train a long way off. He tried it, listening only
for a moment. Then he was on his feet, tossing his ulster to the side
of the road and wriggling out of his jacket. The jacket went on top
of the ulster. Then off came the old frayed red sweater and at that
very instant there was a screech down the track and the train, with a
white billow of steam over the engine, slid into sight. Kid seized the
sweater by the arms and sped down the center of the track, waving it
vigorously. On came the train, nearer and nearer, and the rails rang
with the clangor of its wheels. Kid stopped running and sought a place
of safety at the side of the road. But he still waved the sweater,
wondering why the train didn’t stop. And then, just when he was sure
that his warning was wasted and that the passengers in the cars were
going to have an awful bump, the engine whistle stabbed the air with
short shrieks, there came a terrific grinding and squeaking of brakes
and the train came to a stop, the couplings jarring, with the engine
almost in front of Kid.
[Illustration: “On came the train, nearer and nearer.”]
“What’s the matter, kid?”
A man with his body half out of the cab window and another standing
where you climbed into the engine were both asking at once, and Kid,
wondering how they knew his name, and feeling withal not a little
important, pointed ahead toward the cut.
“There’s a lot of dirt on the rail up there,” he stammered, being
very much out of breath and a little embarrassed, “and I thought maybe
you wouldn’t see it in time to stop.”
The conductor, who had run up, seized Kid by the arm and swung him
around. As Kid had not heard the approach of this formidable-looking
man in blue uniform and brass buttons he was both surprised and
confused.
“What are you up to?” demanded the conductor in terrifying tones.
“N-nothing, please, sir,” stammered Kid. “I――I didn’t know――――”
“He says there’s a slide in the cut, Tom,” interrupted the engineer.
“Put him on and we’ll run ahead and have a look.”
“You come along with me.” The conductor seized Kid firmly by the arm
and pulled him toward the car steps. “If you’ve stopped us for nothing,
kid, you’ll get into trouble. Get in there.”
Kid climbed the steps into the arms of a grinning brakeman. The
whistle spoke again and the train crawled forward. The brakeman was
asking questions. Kid tried to explain but he was so busy watching
for his jacket and ulster along the track that his explanations were
fragmentary at best. The conductor, leaning from the car steps, was
watching the track ahead. Now they were entering the cut, for the banks
began to appear.
“I don’t see anything,” muttered the conductor.
“Sure, he was trying to have a joke on us,” said the brakeman. “Don’t
you know any better than to do a thing like that?”
But at that moment the slowly moving train stopped so abruptly that the
brakeman stumbled against the platform railing. The conductor leaped
to the ground and the brakeman followed him. And then, as there was no
one to stop him, Kid slid down, too, and followed the others. When he
reached the head of the engine the engineer was looking grimly at the
innocent pile of gravel.
“If we’d have struck that, Tom,” he said, with a laugh that somehow
didn’t sound real, “we’d been in the ditch now. Get your shovel, Gus.”
Passengers joined the group, exclaiming, questioning. The fireman came
back with his coal shovel and set to work. The crowd gathered about
him and watched. Kid watched, too. It was all very interesting and
exciting. It was the conductor who spied Kid and made a grab for him
through the crowd. Kid saw him coming, though, and would have got away
if he had not stumbled over the end of a tie and sprawled his length on
the ground.
“Here’s the kid that signaled us,” announced the conductor, picking him
up. “I guess if it hadn’t been for him we’d have been late getting in
to-night. Much obliged, kid. What’s your name?”
“You’re welcome, sir. James Fairchild’s my name.”
“What? What?” a nervous, officious-looking little man with bushy side
whiskers pushed his way through the group. “Did I hear you say this boy
saved the train, Conductor?”
“That’s about what it amounts to, I guess.”
The bewhiskered man wrung Kid’s hand until it hurt. The throng――and
it seemed now that the entire train of five cars had emptied itself
of passengers――crowded closer, voicing admiration and gratitude. Kid,
growing more embarrassed and uncomfortable every moment, strove to back
away, but he was surrounded on all sides. Others began to shake his
hand, and one very large, motherly looking lady actually kissed him, in
spite of his struggles! The bewhiskered man was talking a steady stream
of words in which the phrase “young hero” occurred at intervals. Kid
didn’t follow his discourse very closely; for one thing, he couldn’t
because folks kept crowding around and shaking his hand and asking
questions, and for another thing he was much too uncomfortable. What
he wanted was to rescue his ulster and jacket and get away. Evidently
the bewhiskered one had ended in a real burst of eloquence, for
something very like a cheer went up from the crowd. The speaker removed
his derby hat and it began to circulate from one to another. There came
the jingle of coins. It took Kid a minute to realize that a collection
was being taken up, and when he did realize it he wanted to get away
more than ever. He even muttered something about his coat and tried to
squeeze through the throng, but there was always someone to shake him
by the hand and tell him what a fine, brave boy he was. The black derby
came into sight and disappeared again, jingling louder than before, and
the voice of the man with the bushy whiskers still kept on.
“Give generously, good people! This is a time for practical gratitude!
Let us show that we fully appreciate the heroic conduct of this brave
lad!” And so on and on until Kid hated the bewhiskered one with a great
hatred. Finally the hat came back for good just as the fireman finished
clearing the rail and the conductor summoned them back to the cars. The
bewhiskered man, the derby in one hand and a firm grip of Kid’s sweater
in the other, hurried back to the nearest car. At the steps Kid made a
stand.
“I――I’ve got to go back and get my things,” he declared.
“Eh? What things, my boy?”
“My jacket and ulster. I left them by the track back there.” Kid nodded
toward the end of the cut. At that instant the whistle summoned the
flagman in.
“Well, well, never mind,” said the man with the whiskers, forcibly
propelling Kid up the car steps, “you’ll have money enough to get a new
ulster. Look here!” He displayed a pile of coins and a few bills in the
hollow of the hat. Kid glanced at them but still struggled.
“Please, sir, let me go! I must get them!”
“No, no, my boy, the train will start before you can get half way
there. Come inside and we’ll count the collection.” Still protesting,
Kid was conducted into the car. The man with the whiskers seated
himself with his derby between his knees and other passengers again
gathered. Someone donated a felt hat and the bewhiskered man began
counting the money from the derby into the felt.
“Three――four――five――――”
The train started slowly.
“Six――seven――and two is nine――ten――――”
Kid squirmed from the seat and dashed for the door.
“Hey!” cried the bewhiskered man. But Kid was through the open door and
on the platform, with the train still running slowly. He pulled his cap
down onto his head and――
“Here, what you trying to do? Break your neck?” It was the brakeman,
and he had a firm grasp on Kid’s arm.
“I want my ulster and my jacket!” cried Kid, struggling to get away.
“I――I――Oh!”
The last ejaculation was filled with surprise and relief, for over the
brakeman’s arm hung Kid’s garments.
“These them?” asked the brakeman. “I saw them by the track as I came
in. Here you are.”
Kid accepted them with a sigh of gratitude and struggled into his
jacket. Then he resignedly allowed himself to be conducted back to the
car. Everybody seemed to take it for granted that he wanted to go to
Mt. Pleasant and there was nothing to do now but accept his fate. He
heard the conductor joking with a couple of men across the aisle about
whether a boy who saved a train from the ditch was allowed to travel
free. Meanwhile the bewhiskered man, who had lost his count when Kid
dashed through the door and had been compelled to go over the donations
a second time, announced the result.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, addressing the car at large, “I find
that――ah――we have contributed exactly seventeen dollars and fifty cents
to our――ah――preserver. I must own that I am a little disappointed in
the amount. It seems to me that in view of the circumstances some of
us might have given more liberally. Still, the spirit is shown and
doubtless our young hero, to whom we are all so grateful, will find a
commendable use for the reward. Still, if any of you care to increase
your contributions, or if there are any who――ah――were overlooked, the
purse is still open.”
No one, however, seemed impatient to take advantage of the invitation,
although the bewhiskered man waited blandly for a moment.
“Very well, then. Young sir, in behalf of the passengers whose lives
or limbs you have so heroically saved, I take pleasure in presenting
to you this slight token of our appreciation and gratitude.” He made
a bow and held the hat toward Kid. Kid backed away, shaking his head
vehemently. “Oh, come now, we insist! Your modesty becomes you, my
boy, but we shall feel much hurt if you refuse. Come now, come!”
“I’d rather not,” muttered Kid. “It――it wasn’t anything.”
But Kid’s reluctance accomplished nothing. The money was scooped
from the hat and thrust into his pockets amidst laughter and he was
slapped on the back many times, while one confirmed joker amused the
passengers by suggesting ways of spending the reward. Houses, steam
yachts and automobiles were among the things Kid was advised to invest
his seventeen dollars in. And just then the train began to slow down,
the brakeman called “Mt. Pleasant! Mt. Pleasant! Change for Riveredge,
Greenwood, Tidaholm and all stations on the Mt. Pleasant Branch!” and
in the subsequent confusion Kid wormed his way through the throng about
the rear door of the car and was one of the first to alight as the
train rolled into the station. Once on the platform he wasted no time;
there was no knowing what that awful man with the whiskers might do
next if he had the chance; and so Kid darted through the waiting room,
out the opposite door and gained the street. There he breathed easier,
but kept on going nevertheless, and before he realized it he was three
blocks toward school! There was a little knife-scarred bench there
where folks waited when they wanted the trolley car for Whittier and
Kid seated himself on it and considered.
What was he to do now? Scarcely more than two hours ago he had set
forth into the world to be a sailor, had said farewell to home and
school, had, in short, virtually burned his bridges behind him! And now
here he was back almost where he had started from! Gee, but it was a
funny world!
Of course, now that his resources were increased to nearly nineteen
dollars, it was the simplest thing possible to start over again. He
could take a train at about five o’clock that would put him down in
New York City at half past six. Then he could pay for lodgings――at
a sailor’s boarding house, of course――and in the morning look for a
berth. It was all simple and easy. In fact, it was too simple and easy.
The glamour had gone from it. Anybody could run away and be a sailor
with nineteen dollars in his pocket!
On the other hand, with his new wealth he could return to school with
his head up, pay all his debts and still be a person of affluence. It
would be rather good fun, too. When the fellows came demanding their
quarters returned he could smile carelessly and pull a whole handful
of silver from his pocket and pay them. Still, it would be distinctly
unsatisfactory to be a man of means and have to keep “in bounds” for
a month or six weeks. And the Doctor might think of some even more
horrible method of punishment, too! And if he had to donate ten dollars
of the eighteen-sixty-two to the trophy fund and pay back all the
fellows who had invested in Tinkham’s Throat-Ease, why, he wouldn’t
be so rich after all. Whereas, if he didn’t go back he would not only
escape punishment but retain his wealth. It was a good deal of a
problem.
And perhaps he would have sat there a good deal longer without arriving
at any decision if, at what was a psychological moment, there had not
stolen out to him from the little white-clapboarded, green-shuttered
house behind him an appealing odor of cooking. Kid sat up and sniffed.
It smelled like stew, probably lamb stew; lamb stew with onions and
carrots and turnips and potatoes all cut up in it and smothered in a
rich, thick white gravy! Kid’s stomach decided the matter for him. Kid
got up from that bench and, with feet and legs that were very sore and
tired, tramped back to school.
On the way he prepared his explanation. He need say nothing about
running away. If anyone asked him he need only explain that he had
grown tired of staying in bed and had gone for a walk. He would be
scolded, probably, but scoldings didn’t hurt. Besides, he had only to
thrust a hand into any one of three pockets to feel the comforting
assurance of wealth. But when he walked up the drive from the gate to
the front door, doing it as unostentatiously as possible and assuming
the languid, careless air of an invalid out for exercise, he was both
surprised and relieved to find no one in sight. A moment’s reflection
told him that, as it was still short of four o’clock, all the fellows
were in the schoolrooms. Why, he might even reach his own room without
anyone being the wiser!
He opened the big front door very cautiously, very quietly, and stepped
inside. The hall was empty and not a sound reached him save the ticking
of the big clock on the landing of the stairs. He grinned and moved
noiselessly toward the clock, past it and to his room. With the door
closed behind him he chuckled. Then he looked around him curiously. Not
a thing was changed! Of course he knew that he had been away less than
three hours, but it seemed more like a week to him! A great deal had
happened in those three hours! He emptied his pockets of the money――it
almost filled the collar-box!――removed the few trinkets he had started
away with and then, undressing quickly, got back to bed. Half an hour
later, when Stanley opened the door cautiously, Kid was fast asleep.