ANOTHER ADVENTURE.
The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger on the night train
from Boston was the shabby little girl in the corner, with the bundle
beside her on the seat.
The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no attention to her, the
brakemen paid no attention to her, the boy with the gum-drops and
novels ignored her. She had the air of knowing where she was going,
and also of being utterly uninteresting, and greatly to her relief
she was left entirely to her own devices.
In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis. She scarcely
dared to move, to breathe. All her life had been spent in the quiet
precincts of the asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the
small village in its vicinity, and when she had been allowed to
visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful as this, for there was
no railway there. It took her breath away to be whirled along at so
rapid a rate. She wondered how the people dared to walk about. She
wondered how she had ever had courage enough to step on board the
flaming, roaring monster that had come rushing out of the woods as
if it would devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her
dog. But they had not been devoured, and the agent had guided her
staggering footsteps toward the monster. If he had not done so, she
would in her bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless Mrs.
Minley.
For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then it occurred to her
that she must in some way acquaint this wonderful and frightful
means of locomotion, with her desire to alight at her destination.
She closely watched the people entering and leaving the car, and
discovered that immediately following the entrance of a man who
bawled some unintelligible exclamation, something took place that
reminded her of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went out,
and certain others came in and took their places. She must catch this
noisy man and speak to him.
She patiently waited for him to pass through the car. Once he
swept by her, and then some time elapsed before she saw him again.
The train had been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A
number of men had gone out, and presently come back brushing their
moustaches and with toothpicks between their teeth. This must be an
eating-place; and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in
Ciscasset before breakfast-time.
The little girl desperately addressed a passenger passing her. "I
say, sir, when do we come to Ciscasset?"
"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it an hour ago."
"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.
The man turned to a news agent sauntering by. "Here, you, send the
conductor here."
The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman came. "Got carried
beyond your station, little girl. You're in Canada now, but it's all
right; we'll ship you off at the next stop. Number eight will take
you back. All ri-i-i-ght."
'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange sinking of heart.
She remembered now that Hank Dillson had said the conductor would
"holler" Ciscasset; but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished
the words in the strange sounds issuing from his mouth.
It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had passed when someone
ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!" and the friendly brakeman was beside
her. She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all, and swung
to a platform, where she stood among a group of people. She did not
know where to go or what to do, and remained as one in a dream until
some one touched her shoulder.
"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"
"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the pleasant face of a
young man bending over her.
"All right; the conductor told me about you. Come in here," and he
led the way to a waiting-room. "Had your breakfast?"
"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled Ruth Ann's parcel out
of her pocket.
The young man smiled and motioned it back. "Come have some hot
coffee," and he passed through a doorway into an eating-room, where
'Tilda Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming cup of
coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and potatoes.
"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said, bluntly, to the
young woman who set the tempting viands before her.
"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.
'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All right!" seemed to
be a railway expression. It was immensely comforting to her, and
she soberly partook of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and
emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief. Then she
approached the counter where the young woman stood.
"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good meal."
Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning air. The snow-storm was
over, and the day was delightful--blue above, white below. It was
like a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform, unrolled
her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like dog, set his breakfast before
him. He ate with avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return
to his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the platform beside
her, his crooked tail meanwhile describing successive circles in
the air. Some of the loiterers about the station gathered around
him, and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject of mirth
rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in spite of warm protests on
his part, once more swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with
dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until the agreeable
young man ran in and said her train was coming.
Something warned her that she ought to implore him to tell some one
to have a care of her--to see that she did not again get carried
beyond her destination, but a kind of paralysis seized upon her
tongue, and she could only open her mouth and gape stupidly at him.
"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod. "Jump when you hear
Ciscasset."
"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name in a kind of
desperation, then, as the train started with a jerk and she tumbled
into a seat, she said aloud, and without addressing any one in
particular, "I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."
"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the seat before her,
"I guess this is her first journey," and turning around, she stared
mildly.
"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help me get off at
Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an' I'm so little."
"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of course I will.
Conductor, this little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset."
"All right," said that official, hurrying by.
"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset," exclaimed the old
lady once more, this time to a brakeman.
He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor returned and
said, smartly, "Tickets!"
"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.
"Then you must buy one," said the old lady; "have you got any money,
my dear?"
'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor if he had not been
informed of her mishap. She never dreamed that the pleasant-faced
young man had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the
station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore she drew her
handkerchief from her pocket, untied a knot in its corner, and slowly
produced fifty cents.
"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the conductor, briskly.
"Yes, sir."
"Where do you come from?"
'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.
"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the handkerchief and
immediately going away.
"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady. "He's going to let you
ride free."
'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned her handkerchief to
its place.
The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman car in the rear,
where a man in plain clothes was lying back on a seat, apparently
engaged in an aimless, leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.
"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a girl in the day
car--poor clothes, shawl bundle, no money, won't tell where she comes
from, making a great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an
emigrant."
"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave an imperceptible
nod toward a trio of well-dressed young men engaged in card playing.
"Want to see me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"
"Yep," said the conductor.
"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"
"Two."
"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."
Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat, and waited one,
two, three minutes, and then Jack reappeared from between the
curtains of the drawing-room at the rear of the car.
"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in a loud voice; "any
passenger of that name in this car?"
The youngest of the three men playing cards involuntarily raised his
head, started from his seat, half extended his hand, then drew back.
Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and nodded to the young
man. "Thought you were travelling under an assumed name. H. J.
Bolingbroke _alias_ Blixton. Have you got those diamonds in your
pocket?"
The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow players threw down
their cards and surveyed him curiously.
"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said Jack, and he led the
way for the detected smuggler.
'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently stared at them,
little dreaming that her turn was to come next.
After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a seat behind 'Tilda
Jane. After noticing the ineffectual attempts made by the old lady
to draw the little girl into conversation, he leaned over and poured
some candy into her lap from a bag he held in his hand.
"Have some, sissy?"
She gratefully flashed him a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you,
sir."
"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.
"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you tell me when we come
to it?"
"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"
"No, sir."
"Oh, going home?"
"No, sir."
"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"
"No, sir."
"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean with you?" he asked,
his keen eye noting a stirring inside the bundle.
"No, sir."
"Where did you pick him up?"
"Some boys were goin' to drown him."
"So you're a kind little girl."
"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said, warmly; "but I'm goin'
to try to be better. Oh, sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"
"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between Canada and the
States. I guess you'd better come this way for Ciscasset, little
girl."
"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed the old lady.
"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over. She'll probably go
on the next train."
The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that child alone, sir.
Where's the conductor? Conductor, I say, come here. Can't some one
get the conductor? Don't go with him one step, little girl."
'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively at the man, and
did not offer to leave her seat.
He threw back his coat and displayed a badge. "Madam, I'm a
government inspector."
"A government inspector! What's that?" the old lady spluttered,
eyeing him over her glasses.
"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation, but I can tell
you this much, namely, that we have to detain and examine all persons
without means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United States
from foreign countries."
She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never heard of such a thing.
I guess this is a free country."
"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep it free. If you get a
lot of pauper foreigners here, it'll not be free long."
"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"
"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly. Whatever happened, she
was determined not to admit too much.
At this moment the conductor appeared, and the old lady hailed him
indignantly. "What does this mean, sir? This little girl offered to
pay her passage. I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're going to put
her off the train."
"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll likely be
allowed to go on to-morrow."
"And you'll keep that innocent child here all day, and she too
frightened to breathe?" cried the old lady. "I never heard of such
doings. I'll write the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"
"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the conductor. "There's
a good hotel here. All detained are lodged and fed at government
expense. She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."
"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady, wrathfully.
"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of these fusses. Pick up
her traps, Jack."
"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda Jane, seeing that
the inevitable had once more overtaken her, rose resignedly, but the
too kind and officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the two
men were forced to draw her away from her.
'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment totally unmixed with
terror, for she had taken a liking to the kind face of her guide,
trotted meekly after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.
The platform was crowded with people. Two trains were standing at the
station, and in a large dining-room on her right she saw thronged
tables and hurrying waitresses.
She was ushered into a room where there was a handsomely dressed
woman with a flushed face and tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy
and girl sitting very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly
dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man sitting behind a small
table.
"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide. "Don't be scared, but
speak up," and with a reassuring smile he disappeared.