THE DOG-ON DOG AGAIN
As the conductor left the Mallorys to their own devices, it rushed
over him anew what sacrilege had been attempted--a fool bride had
asked him to stop the Trans-American of all trains!--to go shopping of
all things!
He stormed into the smoking room to open the safety valve of his
wrath, and found the porter just coming out of the buffet cell with a
tray, two hollow-stemmed glasses and a bottle swaddled in a napkin.
"Say, Ellsworth, what in ---- do you suppose that female back there
wants?--wants me to hold the Trans-American while----"
But the porter was in a flurry himself. He was about to serve
champagne, and he cut the conductor short:
"'Scuse me, boss, but they's a lovin' couple in the stateroom forward
that is in a powerful hurry for this. I can't talk to you now. I'll
see you later." And he swaggered off, leaving the door of the buffet
open. The conductor paused to close it, glanced in, started, stared,
glared, roared: "What's this! Well, I'll be--a dog smuggled in here!
I'll break that coon's head. Come out of there, you miserable or'nary
hound." He seized the incredulous Snoozleums by the scruff of his
neck, growling, "It's you for the baggage car ahead," and dashed out
with his prey, just as Mallory, now getting new bearings on Marjorie's
character, spoke across the rampart of his Napoleonically folded arms:
"Well, you're a nice one!--making violent love to a conductor before
my very eyes. A minute more and I would have----"
She silenced him with a snap: "Don't you speak to me! I hate you! I
hate all men. The more I know men the more I like----" this reminded
her, and she asked anxiously: "Where is Snoozleums?"
Mallory, impatient at the shift of subject, snapped back: "Oh, I left
him in the buffet with the waiter. What I want to know is how you dare
to----"
"Was it a colored waiter?"
"Of course. But I'm not speaking of----"
"But suppose he should bite him?"
"Oh, you can't hurt those nigger waiters. I started to say----"
"But I can't have Snoozleums biting colored people. It might not agree
with him. Get him at once."
Mallory trembled with suppressed rage like an overloaded boiler, but
he gave up and growled: "Oh, Lord, all right. I'll get him when I've
finished----"
"Go get him this minute. And bring the poor darling back to his
mother."
"His mother! Ye gods!" cried Mallory, wildly. He turned away and
dashed into the men's room with a furious: "Where's that damned dog?"
He met the porter just returning. The porter smiled: "He's right in
heah, sir," and opened the buffet door. His eyes popped and his jaw
sagged: "Why, I lef' him here just a minute ago."
"You left the window open, too," Mallory observed. "Well, I guess he's
gone."
The porter was panic stricken: "Oh, I'm turrible sorry, boss, I
wouldn't have lost dat dog for a fortune. If you was to hit me with a
axe I wouldn't mind."
To his utter befuddlement, Mallory grinned and winked at him, and
murmured: "Oh, that's all right. Don't worry." And actually laid half
a dollar in his palm. Leaving the black lids batting over the starting
eyes, Mallory pulled his smile into a long face and went back to
Marjorie like an undertaker: "My love, prepare yourself for bad news."
Marjorie looked up, startled and apprehensive: "Snoozleums is ill. He
did bite the darkey."
"Worse than that--he--he--fell out of the window."
"When!" she shrieked, "in heaven's name--when?"
"He was there just a minute ago, the waiter says."
Marjorie went into instant hysterics, wringing her hands and sobbing:
"Oh, my darling, my poor child--stop the train at once!"
She began to pound Mallory's shoulders and shake him frantically. He
had never seen her this way either. He was getting his education in
advance. He tried to calm her with inexpert words: "How can I stop the
train? Now, dearie, he was a nice dog, but after all, he was only a
dog."
She rounded on him like a panther: "Only a dog! He was worth a dozen
men like you. You find the conductor at once, command him to stop this
train--and back up! I don't care if he has to go back ten miles. Run,
tell him at once. Now, you run!"
Mallory stared at her as if she had gone mad, but he set out to run
somewhere, anywhere. Marjorie paced up and down distractedly, tearing
her hair and moaning, "Snoozleums, Snoozleums! My child. My poor
child!" At length her wildly roving eyes noted the bell rope. She
stared, pondered, nodded her head, clutched at it, could not reach it,
jumped for it several times in vain, then seized a chair, swung it
into place, stood up in it, gripped the rope, and came down on it with
all her weight, dropping to the floor and jumping up and down in a
frenzied dance. In the distance the engine could be heard faintly
whistling, whistling for every pull.
The engineer, far ahead, could not imagine what unheard-of crisis
could bring about such mad signals. The fireman yelled:
"I bet that crazy conductor is attacked with an epilettic fit."
But there was no disputing the command. The engine was reversed, the
air brakes set, the sand run out and every effort made to pull the
iron horse, as it were, back on its haunches.
The grinding, squealing, jolting, shook the train like an earthquake.
The shrieking of the whistle froze the blood like a woman's cry of
"Murder!" in the night. The women among the passengers echoed the
screams. The men turned pale and braced themselves for the shock of
collision. Some of them were mumbling prayers. Dr. Temple and Jimmie
Wellington, with one idea in their dissimilar souls, dashed from the
smoking room to go to their wives.
Ashton and Wedgewood, with no one to care for but themselves, seized
windows and tried to fight them open. At last they budged a sash and
knelt down to thrust their heads out.
"I don't see a beastly thing ahead," said Wedgewood, "except the heads
of other fools."
"We're slowing down though," said Ashton, "she stops! We're safe.
Thank God!" And he collapsed into a chair. Wedgewood collapsed into
another, gasping: "Whatevah are we safe from, I wondah?"
The train-crew and various passengers descended and ran alongside the
train asking questions. Panic gave way to mystery. Even Dr. Temple
came back into the smoking room to finish a precious cigar he had been
at work on. He was followed by Little Jimmie, who had not quite
reached his wife when the stopping of the train put an end to his
excuse for chivalry. He was regretfully mumbling:
"It would have been such a good shansh to shave my life's wife--I mean
my--I don't know what I mean." He sank into a chair and ordered a
drink; then suddenly remembered his vow, and with great heroism,
rescinded the order.
Mallory, finding that the train was checked just before he reached the
conductor, saw that official's bewildered wrath at the stoppage and
had a fearsome intuition that Marjorie had somehow done the deed. He
hurried back to the observation room, where he found her charging up
and down, still distraught. He paused at a safe distance and said:
"The train has stopped, my dear. Somebody rang the bell."
"I guess somebody did!" Marjorie answered, with a proud toss of the
head. "Where's the conductor?"
"He's looking for the fellow that pulled the rope."
"You go tell him to back up--and slowly, too."
"No, thank you!" said Mallory. He was a brave young man, but he was
not bearding the conductors of stopped expresses. Already the
conductor's voice was heard in the smoking room, where he appeared
with the rush and roar of a Bashan bull. "Well!" he bellowed, "which
one of you guys pulled that rope?"
"It was nobody here, sir," Dr. Temple meekly explained. The conductor
transfixed him with a baleful glare: "I wouldn't believe a gambler on
oath. I bet you did it."
"I assure you, sir," Wedgewood interposed, "he didn't touch it. I was
heah."
The conductor waved him aside and charged into the observation room,
followed by all the passengers in an awe struck rabble. Here, too, the
conductor thundered: "Who pulled that rope? Speak up somebody."
Mallory was about to sacrifice himself to save Marjorie, but she met
the conductor's black rage with the withering contempt of a young
queen: "I pulled the old rope. Whom did you suppose?"
The conductor almost dropped with apoplexy at finding himself with
nobody to vent his immense rage on, but this pink and white slip.
"You!" he gulped, "well, what in----Say, in the name of--why, don't
you know it's a penitentiary offense to stop a train this way?"
Marjorie tossed her head a little higher, grew a little calmer: "What
do I care? I want you to back up."
The conductor was reduced to a wet rag, a feeble echo: "Back up--the
train up?"
"Yes, back the train up," Marjorie answered, resolutely, "and go
slowly till I tell you to stop."
The conductor stared at her a moment, then whirled on Mallory: "Say,
what in hell's the matter with your wife?"
Mallory was saved from the problem of answering by Marjorie's abrupt
change from a young Tsarina rebuking a serf, to a terrified mother.
She flung out imploring palms and with a gush of tears pleaded: "Won't
you please back up? My darling child fell off the train."
The conductor's rage fell away in an instant. "Your child fell off the
train!" he gasped. "Good Lord! How old was he?"
With one hand he was groping for the bell cord to give the signal,
with the other he opened the door to look back along the track.
"He was two years old," Marjorie sobbed.
"Oh, that's too bad!" the conductor groaned. "What did he look like?"
"He had a pink ribbon round his neck."
"A pink ribbon--oh, the poor little fellow! the poor little fellow!"
"And a long curly tail."
The conductor swung round with a yell: "A curly tail!--your son?"
"My dog!" Marjorie roared back at him.
The conductor's voice cracked weakly as he shrieked: "Your dog! You
stopped this train for a fool dog?"
"He wasn't a fool dog," Marjorie retorted, facing him down, "he knows
more than you do."
The conductor threw up his hands: "Well, don't you women beat----" He
studied Marjorie as if she were some curious freak of nature. Suddenly
an idea struck into his daze: "Say, what kind of a dog was it?--a
measly little cheese-hound?"
"He was a noble, beautiful soul with wonderful eyes and adorable
ears."
The conductor was growing weaker and weaker: "Well, don't worry. I got
him. He's in the baggage car."
Marjorie stared at him unbelievingly. The news seemed too gloriously
beautiful to be true. "He isn't dead--Snoozleums is not dead!" she
cried, "he lives! He lives! You have saved him." And once more she
flung herself upon the conductor. He tried to bat her off like a gnat,
and Mallory came to his rescue by dragging her away and shoving her
into a chair. But she saw only the noble conductor: "Oh, you dear,
good, kind angel. Get him at once."
"He stays in the baggage car," the conductor answered, firmly and as
he supposed, finally.
"But Snoozleums doesn't like baggage cars," Marjorie smiled. "He won't
ride in one."
"He'll ride in this one or I'll wring his neck."
"You fiend in human flesh!" Marjorie shrank away from him in horror,
and he found courage to seize the bell rope and yank it viciously with
a sardonic: "Please, may I start this train?"
The whistle tooted faintly. The bell began to hammer, the train to
creak and writhe and click. The conductor pulled his cap down hard and
started forward. Marjorie seized his sleeve: "Oh, I implore you, don't
consign that poor sweet child to the horrid baggage car. If you have a
human heart in your breast, hear my prayer."
The conductor surrendered unconditionally: "Oh, Lord, all right, all
right. I'll lose my job, but if you'll keep quiet, I'll bring him to
you." And he slunk out meekly, followed by the passengers, who were
shaking their heads in wonderment at this most amazing feat of this
most amazing bride.
When they were alone once more, Marjorie as radiant as April after a
storm, turned her sunshiny smile on Mallory:
"Isn't it glorious to have our little Snoozleums alive and well?"
But Mallory was feeling like a March day. He answered with a sleety
chill: "You care more for the dog than you do for me."
"Why shouldn't I?" Marjorie answered with wide eyes, "Snoozleums never
would have brought me on a wild goose elopement like this. Heaven
knows he didn't want to come."
Mallory repeated the indictment: "You love a dog better than you love
your husband."
"My what?" Marjorie laughed, then she spoke with lofty condescension:
"Harry Mallory, if you're going to be jealous of that dog, I'll never
marry you the longest day I live."
"So you'll let a dog come between us?" he demanded.
"I wouldn't give up Snoozleums for a hundred husbands," she retorted.
"I'm glad to know it in time," Mallory said. "You'd better give me
back that wedding ring."
Marjorie's heart stopped at this, but her pride was in arms. She drew
herself up, slid the ring from her finger, and held it out as if she
scorned it: "With pleasure. Good afternoon, Mr. Mallory."
Mallory took it as if it were the merest trifle, bowed and murmured:
"Good afternoon, Miss Newton."
He stalked out and she turned her back on him. A casual witness would
have said that they were too indifferent to each other even to feel
anger. As a matter of romantic fact, each was on fire with love, and
aching madly with regret. Each longed for strength to whirl round with
outflung arms of reconciliation, and neither could be so brave. And so
they parted, each harking back fiercely for one word of recall from
the other. But neither spoke, and Marjorie sat staring at nothing
through raining eyes, while Mallory strode into the Men's Room as
melancholy as Hamlet with Yorick's skull in his hands.
It was their first great quarrel, and they were convinced that the
world might as well come to an end.