CLICKETY-CLICKETY-CLICKETY
Marjorie, as the supposed wife of the rescuing angel, was permitted
first search, and the first thing she hunted for was a certain gold
bracelet that was none of hers. She found it and seized it with a
prayer of thanks, and concealed it among her own things.
Mrs. Temple gave her a guilty start, by speaking across a barrier:
"Mrs. Mallory, your husband is the bravest man on earth."
"Oh, I know he is," Marjorie beamed, and added with a spasm of
conscience: "but he isn't my husband!"
Mrs. Temple gasped in horror, but Marjorie dragged her close, and
poured out the whole story, while the other passengers recovered their
properties with as much joy as if they were all new gifts found on a
bush.
Meanwhile, under Mallory's guidance, the porter fastened the outlaws
together back to back with the straps of their own feed-bags. The
porter was rejoicing that his harvest of tips was not blighted after
all.
Mallory completed his bliss, by giving him Dr. Temple's brace of guns,
and establishing him as jailer, with a warning: "Now, porter, don't
take your eye off 'em."
"Lordy, I won't bat an eyelid."
"If either of these lads coughs, put a hole through both of 'em."
The porter chuckled: "My fingers is just a-itchin' fer them lovin'
triggers."
And now Mr. Baumann, having scrambled back his possessions, hastened
into the smoking room, and regarded the two hangdog culprits with
magnificent generosity; he forgave them their treatment. In fact, he
went so far as to say: "You gents vill be gettin' off at Reno, yes?
You'll be needing a good firm of lawyers. Don't forget us. Baumann"
(he put a card in Bill's hat) "and Blumen" (he put a card in Jake's
hat). "Avoid substitoots."
Mallory pocketed two of the captured revolvers, lest a need might
arise suddenly again. As he hurried down the aisle, he was received
with cheers. The passengers gave him an ovation, but he only smiled
timidly, and made haste to Marjorie's side.
She regarded him with such idolatry that he almost regretted his deed.
But this mood soon passed in her excitement, and in a moment she was
surreptitiously showing him the bracelet. He became an accessory after
the fact, and shared her guilt, for when she groaned with a sudden
droop: "She'll get it back!" he grimly answered, "Oh, no she won't!"
hoisted the window, and flung the bracelet into a little pool by the
side of the track, with a farewell: "Good-bye, trouble!"
As he drew his head in, a side glance showed him that up near the
engine a third train-robber held the miserably weary train crew in
line.
He found the conductor just about to pull the bell-rope, to proceed.
The conductor had forgotten all about the rest of the staff. Mallory
took him aside, and told him the situation, then turned to Marjorie,
said: "Excuse me a minute," and hurried forward. The conductor
followed Mallory through the train into the baggage coach.
The first news the third outlaw had of the counter-revolution
occurring in the sleeping car was a mysterious bullet that flicked the
dust near his heel, and a sonorous shout of "Hands up!" As he whirled
in amaze, he saw two revolvers aimed point blank at him from behind a
trunk. He hoisted his guns without parley, and the train crew trussed
him up in short order.
Mallory ran back to Marjorie, and the conductor followed more slowly,
reassuring the passengers in the other cars, and making certain that
the train was ready to move on its way.
Mallory went straight to Dr. Temple, with a burning demand:
"You dear old fraud, will you marry me?"
Dr. Temple laughed and nodded. Marjorie and Mrs. Temple had been
telling him the story of the prolonged elopement, and he was eager to
atone for his own deception, by putting an end to their misery.
"Just wait one moment," he said, and as a final proof of affection, he
unbuttoned his collar and put it on backwards. Mrs. Temple brought out
the discarded bib, and he donned it meekly. The transformation
explained many a mystery the old man had enmeshed himself in.
Even as he made ready for the ceremony, the conductor appeared, looked
him over, grinned, and reached for the bell-cord, with a cheerful:
"All aboard!"
Mallory had a sort of superstitious dread, not entirely unfounded on
experience, that if the train got under way again, it would run into
some new obstacle to his marriage. He turned to the conductor:
"Say, old man, just hold the train till after my wedding, won't you?"
It was not much to ask in return for his services, but the conductor
was tired of being second in command. He growled:
"Not a minute. We're 'way behind time."
"You might wait till I'm married," Mallory pleaded.
"Not on your life!" the conductor answered, and he pulled the
bell-rope twice; in the distance, the whistle answered twice.
Mallory's temper flared again. He cried: "This train doesn't go
another step till I'm married!" He reached up and pulled the bell-rope
once; in the distance the whistle sounded once.
This was high treason, and the conductor advanced on him
threateningly, as he seized the cord once more. "You touch that rope
again, and I'll----"
"Oh, no, you won't," said Mallory, as he whisked a revolver from his
right pocket and jammed it into the conductor's watch-pocket. The
conductor came to attention.
Then Mallory, standing with his right hand on military duty, put out
his left hand, and gave the word: "Now, parson."
He smiled still more as he heard Kathleen's voice wailing: "But I
can't find my bracelet. Where's my bracelet?"
"Silence! Silence!" Dr. Temple commanded, and then: "Join hands, my
children."
Marjorie shifted Snoozleums to her left arm, put her right hand into
Mallory's, and Dr. Temple, standing between them, began to drone the
ritual. Everybody said they made a right pretty picture.
When the old clergyman had done his work, the young husband-at-last
graciously rescinded military law, recalled the artillery from the
conductor's very midst, and remembering Manila, smiled:
"You may fire when ready, conductor."
The conductor's rage had cooled, and he slapped the bridegroom on the
back with one hand, as he pulled the cord with the other. The train
began to creak and tug and shift. The ding-dong of the bell floated
murmurously back as from a lofty steeple, and the clickety-click,
click-clickety-click quickened and softened into a pleasant gossip, as
the speed grew, and the way was so smooth for the wheels that they
seemed to be spinning on rails of velvet.
THE END