BRAKE UP!
I looked at Colonel Wimpleton, as he sat gazing, with a stupid stare,
upon the floor of the state-room. I began to feel some trepidation
lest my relations with the family of Major Toppleton were to be
criticised and censured. But true to the instincts of all young men
in my situation, I was ready to die rather than yield the breadth of
a hair in my devotion to Grace. The magnates might quarrel as much
as suited their imperial pleasure, but I would neither be coaxed nor
driven into the feud. I was resolved to be discharged from my pleasant
and lucrative position rather than have my agreeable relations with the
Toppletons suspended.
“Wolf, I won’t have it!” exclaimed the colonel, suddenly, as he stamped
his foot upon the floor, after a silence which enabled me to review my
previous conduct for months.
“What, sir?” I inquired again.
But the tipsy magnate did not condescend to reply to my question.
He contracted the muscles of his face into a maudlin expression of
indignation, and continued to brood over the evil which disturbed him.
“You must go with me, Wolf,” said he, after another long pause.
“Where, sir?”
“Over to Middleport.--No, I won’t have it! I’ll put a stop to it!”
“I really don’t understand you, Colonel Wimpleton,” I pleaded.
“You don’t understand it, Wolf? Yes, you do understand it, Wolf. You
know all about it.”
“What, sir?”
“What, sir!” sneered the colonel, fixing a stare of drunken ire upon
me. “You must go with me, Wolf.”
“But the boat must start in less than an hour,” I added, consulting my
watch.
“I don’t care for the boat. This thing is of more consequence than the
boat, Wolf.”
“What thing, sir?”
“Boys musn’t be men till they are old enough to be men, Wolf,”
protested the great man. “Come with me.”
He rose with some difficulty from the chair, and tottered towards the
door.
“Where am I to go, sir?” I asked.
“Over to the other side of the lake.”
“But the boat--”
“Don’t say any more to me about the boat, Wolf. Van Wolter can run the
boat as well as you can. Come along with me.”
“Very well, sir; I will tell Mr. Van Wolter that I shall not go down
the lake with him.”
When I had seen the mate, I returned to my state-room, where the
colonel had again seated himself. I kept a tumbler and a pitcher of ice
water in the room, and as I went to take a drink, I found the glass
smelled strongly of liquor. The magnate had a bottle in his pocket,
and had taken another dram. I did not like to go with him while he was
in his present condition, and evidently growing worse, but I could not
refuse without creating a tempest.
“Courting!” ejaculated the colonel, as I put on my cap. “I won’t have
it.”
“I don’t understand you, sir,” I replied, startled by the suggestive
word he had used.
“You’ll understand it very soon, Wolf, for I won’t have it. Come with
me.”
What could the great man mean? Did he apply that word to my relations
with Grace Toppleton? I was not willing to have them called by
so vulgar a term. He rose from the chair, and bolted out of the
state-room, for he could not now maintain a steady gait. I followed
him to the gangway, where the boat I had ordered was waiting for us.
Van Wolter winked at me as I passed him, and seemed to regard the
drunkenness of the magnate as a good joke, instead of the most serious
thing in the world. With the assistance of the mate and myself, the
colonel succeeded in depositing himself in the boat without falling
into the lake, and the men landed us at Middleport.
Bracing up his nerves to their utmost tension, the great man walked
up the wharf to the railroad station, whence he dropped into a chair,
overcome by his exertions to act like a sober man. The last dram
imbibed had not yet produced its full effect, and I hoped, in the
stupor of intoxication, he would forget his mission, whatever it was.
People looked at him, smiled, winked, and sneered, as he sat in the
waiting-room, and it was very disagreeable to me to be obliged to be
his companion. There is no knowing what a tipsy man may do, and I was
fearful that he would place me in a still more embarrassing position.
The vulgar expression he had used--“courting”--indicated that there was
a lady in the affair. I suspected that he meant to proceed to the house
of Major Toppleton; but I was determined not to go there with him, for
such a step would imply that he intended to meddle with my affair.
“No, I won’t have it, Wolf! Now go and see where they have gone,” said
the colonel, after he had sat a few moments.
“See where who have gone, sir?” I inquired.
“Why, Tom Toppleton and Waddie.”
“I know where they have gone.”
“Where?” he demanded, jerking up his head suddenly.
“Down to the Horse Shoe, sir.”
“I suppose you know all about it.”
“They have gone to select a camp for the regiment--that’s all.”
“No, sir! That’s not all, Wolf! You know very well that’s not all.”
“At least, that’s all I know about it,” I pleaded.
“Now, where’s Grace Toppleton? That’s what I want to know,” said he,
savagely.
“I don’t know where she is,” I replied, not pleased to have her name
connected with the matter, whatever it might prove to be.
“You go and find out where she is--that’s what I want you to do. Don’t
talk to me! I tell you I won’t have it.”
“I will ascertain where she is,” I replied, not unwilling to call at
the house of the major, where I might see her.
“Go, and don’t stop long.”
I did go, and I did not stop long. Grace was not at home. She had gone
to the Horse Shoe in the same boat with Tommy, where he was to meet
Waddie. I reported this intelligence to the colonel.
“That is just what I supposed!” exclaimed he, springing to his feet. “I
won’t have it. Get two tickets, Wolf, and take me to the Horse Shoe.”
“I will, sir.”
“Courting!” snuffed the colonel.
“Who, sir?”
“In love.”
“Who, sir?”
“I won’t have it! No, I won’t.”
By this time I began to believe that I was not the object of his
suspicion; but I was very anxious to know who was implicated in this
grave charge of “courting,” or of being in love. I knew that Nick Van
Wolter, the mate’s son, had gone down to the Horse Shoe with Waddie,
in the Raven; and now it appeared that Tommy and Grace had also gone.
My present information assured me that Grace was the only young lady
of the party, and if any “courting” was meditated, it was plain to
me, from the nature of the circumstances, that she must be one of the
parties.
I confess that I began to feel very uneasy when the possibility of the
occasion dawned upon me. Grace, so far as I knew, was the only lady in
the party. If any one was in love with her, who could it be? Certainly
it was not Tommy; and it was almost as certain that it could not be
Nick Van Wolter, though the latter was a very conceited young man,
with assurance enough to fall in love with one so much his superior as
Grace. But if it was Nick, why should the colonel trouble himself about
the matter? I was satisfied that it could not be Nick. Then it must be
Waddie.
My blood seemed to grow cold in my veins as the only reasonable
explanation of the problem was forced upon my mind. Such an event would
inflame the magnate of Centreport to wrath, for he could conceive of no
more terrible calamity than an alliance by marriage between the rival
families. I was shocked and confounded. Yet I was reasonable enough
to believe that it was the most natural thing in the world for Waddie
to fall in love with Grace. She was beautiful and winning beyond any
words of mine to express. He was socially her equal, which I was not.
Distressed as I was, I could offer no objection to the idea.
I procured two tickets for Grass Springs, and assisted the colonel into
the rear car. He still persisted that he would not “have it,” talked
wild, foolish, and angry, by turns, till the stupor of his last dram
overcame him, and he dropped asleep, much to my satisfaction, for I was
disgusted with his speech. Besides, I did not feel like talking with
any one. I had experienced a terrible blow. I had lost Grace Toppleton.
I had mistaken her kindness to me for a more tender sentiment, and
I felt like lying down on the bottom of the lake in deep water, or
emigrating to some distant and unknown region.
The cars stopped a moment at Spangleport. Major Toppleton had built a
bridge over the outlet of the lake, so that the train ran into Ucayga,
thus gaining time enough to allow the stops at the two towns on the
route. The dummy also made two trips a day to Grass Springs, so that
the people along the line were better accommodated than ever before.
About half way between Spangleport and the Springs, the engineer
whistled furiously, and the train began to brake up rather sharply.
“What’s the matter, Wolf?” said the colonel, awaking with a start.
“I don’t know, sir; perhaps a cow is on the track.”
“Go ahead and see,” said he, thrusting his hand into his breast pocket,
where he must have kept his bottle.
I obeyed him, and as I opened the forward door, I saw him drinking
from his flask. I had walked through three cars, when the train
stopped. As I had supposed, an obstinate cow had placed herself on
the track, and not having the fear of locomotives before her, refused
to budge till the fireman drove her off by pelting her with coal. The
train started again, and I did not hurry back to the colonel; but when
I reached the rear of the last car, he was not there. I was alarmed,
and immediately looked through the train for him. I could not find him.
The passengers had not observed him. I was afraid he had fallen off,
and I hastened to find the conductor.
He was in the forward car. I stated the case to him, and begged him to
run back a little way. After many objections he consented, and gave
the order. A brakeman was sent to the rear platform, but the conductor
detained me to tell me the consequences that might follow the delay.
I promised to help him out on some other occasion when he was behind
time, by inducing the conductors on the great line to wait for him.
I hastened back to the rear platform, but before I could reach it, I
heard the whistle to brake up. On reaching the end of the car, I saw a
sight which froze my blood. Colonel Wimpleton lay on the track between
the rails, apparently unable to save himself.
The brakeman had pulled the connecting line, and was jamming down the
brake with all his might; but it was still a problem whether the train
could be stopped in season to avoid running over him. I rushed to the
assistance of the man, and the brake creaked under our united efforts.
Fortunately the signal from the engine had been prompt, and the train
was stopped, but only a few feet from the tipsy magnate, who shook his
fist at the car as it came near.
“Did ye mean to run over me?” said he; and it was evident that his last
dram had nearly finished him.
* * * * *
[We intended to let Wolf tell his own story, but we are obliged to take
the pen out of his hand, for a time, to relate certain incidents of
which he was not a witness. Nicholas Van Wolter is no scholar; and if
he were, we could not trust him to narrate the matter of the succeeding
chapters, for we fear he would suppress the truth, and introduce too
much of his own personal vanity.]
[Illustration: BRAKE UP!]