ACROSS THE MISSISSIPPI.
Never before, since he was first carried to Brimfield as a baby, had
Glen been away from there; so, from the very outset, the journey on
which he had now started, in company with Mr. Hobart, was a wonderful
one. In school, besides history, he had enjoyed the study of geography,
being especially fond of poring over maps and tracing out imaginary
journeys. In this way he had gained a fair idea of the route Mr. Hobart
and he were to pursue, as well as of the cities and other places of
interest they were to see. There was one place, however, for which he
was not prepared. It was early in the first night of the journey, and
the boy had just fallen into a doze in his sleeping-car berth. As the
night was warm, and there was no dust, the car door was open, and
through it came a sudden shout of "Glen Eddy! Glen Eddy!"
As Glen started up, wide awake, and answering "Here I am," the train
rumbled over a bridge. Then it stopped, and the meaning of the shout
flashed into the boy's mind. He was at the very place where, so long
ago, he had lost a father or mother, or both. All the details of that
awful scene, as described by his adopted father, appeared vividly before
him, and he seemed to see, through a gray dawn, the mass of splintered
wreckage nearly covered by angry waters, the floating car seat with its
tiny human burden, and the brave swimmer directing it towards land.
The train stopped but a moment, and then moved on. As it did so, Glen,
who was in an upper berth, heard a deep sigh, that sounded almost like a
groan, coming apparently from a lower berth on the opposite side of the
car.
Directly afterwards he heard a low voice ask, respectfully, "What is it,
Governor? Are you in pain? Can I do anything?"
"Nothing, Price, thank you. I had a sort of nightmare, that's all," was
the reply, and then all was again quiet.
Glen wished he might catch a glimpse of the person who spoke last, for
he had never seen a governor, and wondered in what way he would look
different from other men. He would try and see him in the morning. Thus
thinking, he fell asleep.
The next morning he was awakened by Mr. Hobart, and told to dress as
quickly as possible, for they were within a few miles of East St. Louis,
and would soon cross the Mississippi. This news drove all other thoughts
from the boy's mind, and he hurried through his toilet, full of
excitement at the prospect of seeing the mightiest of American rivers.
There was no bridge across the Mississippi then, either at St. Louis or
elsewhere. Great four-horse transfer coaches from the several hotels
were waiting for passengers beside the train where it stopped, and these
were borne to the opposite bank by a steam ferry-boat with a peculiar
name and of peculiar construction. The _Cahokia_ looked like a regular
river steamer, except that she had no visible paddle-wheels, not even
one behind, like a wheelbarrow, as some of the very shoal-draught boats
had. For some time Glen could not discover what made her go, though go
she certainly did, moving swiftly and easily across the broad expanse of
tawny waters towards the smoky city on its farther bank. He would not
ask Mr. Hobart, for he loved to puzzle things out for himself if he
possibly could. At length he discovered that the boat was double-hulled,
and that its single paddle-wheel was located between the two hulls. Glen
was obliged to ask the object of this; but when he was told that it was
to protect the wheel from the great ice-cakes that floated down the
river in winter, he wondered that he had not thought of that himself.
So he forgot to look for his governor, or ask about him until they
reached the hotel where they were to get breakfast and spend a few
hours. Then he was told that the person in whom he was interested was
probably General Elting, who had just completed a term of office as
governor of one of the territories, and who was now acting as treasurer
of the very railroad company for which he was to work.
Glen regretted not having seen the ex-governor, but quickly forgot his
slight disappointment in the more novel and interesting things that now
attracted his attention. He had never been in a city before, and was
very glad of a few hours in which to see the sights of this one; for the
train that was to carry them to Kansas City would not leave until
afternoon.
As the offices of the company by whom Mr. Hobart was employed were in
St. Louis, he was obliged to spend all his time in them, and could not
go about with Glen. So, only charging him to be on hand in time for the
train, the engineer left the boy to his own devices.
Glen spent most of his time on the broad levee at the river's edge,
where he was fascinated by the great steamboats, with their lofty
pilot-houses, tall chimneys, roaring furnaces, and crews of shouting
negroes, that continually came and went.
This seemed to be their grand meeting-point. On huge placards, swung
above their gang-planks, Glen read that some of them were bound for New
Orleans and all intermediate ports. Then there were boats for the Red,
Arkansas, Yazoo, Ohio, Illinois, Missouri, and a dozen other rivers,
tributary to the great Father of Waters. Still others were bound for
Northern ports, even as far as distant St. Paul, in Minnesota.
Two o'clock found the boy at the railway station, standing beside the
car in which all his belongings were already safely deposited, waiting
anxiously for Mr. Hobart. Just as the train was about to start, that
gentleman rushed into the station.
"Jump aboard, Glen," he said, hurriedly, "and go on to Kansas City with
the baggage. Here is your pass and a note to Mr. Brackett. Report to him
at the Kaw House. I am detained here by business, but will join you
to-morrow or next day. Good-bye."
The train was already in motion, and in another moment the boy had lost
sight of his only friend in that part of the world, and was whirling
away towards an unknown destination. He felt rather lonely and forlorn
at thus being cast upon his own resources, but at the same time he felt
proud of the confidence reposed in him, and glad of an opportunity to
prove how well he could take care of himself.
For several hours he was interested in watching the rapidly changing
features of the landscape; but after a while he grew weary of this, and
began to study his fellow-passengers. There were not many in the
sleeper, and the only ones near him in whom he took an interest were a
little girl, five or six years old, who was running up and down the
aisle, and a lady, evidently the child's mother, who sat opposite to
him. As he watched the little one she tripped and would have fallen had
he not sprung forward and caught her. The child smiled at him, the
mother thanked him, and in a few minutes he found himself playing with
the former and amusing himself in entertaining her.
She told him that her name was Nettie Winn; but that her papa, who lived
a long way off, and whom she was going to see, called her "Nettle." She
was a bright, sunny-haired little thing, who evidently regarded elder
people as having been created especially for her amusement and to obey
her orders. As, in obedience to one of these, the boy carried her in his
arms to the forward end of the car that she might look out of the window
in the door, a fine-looking middle-aged gentleman spoke to him,
remarking that he seemed very fond of children.
"Yes, sir, I am," answered Glen, "for I have two little sisters at
home."
They exchanged a few more words, and Glen was so attracted by the
stranger's appearance and manner that after the tired child had gone to
sleep with her head in her mother's lap, he again walked to the end of
the car in hopes that the gentleman might be inclined to renew their
conversation. Nor was he disappointed; for the stranger welcomed him
with a smile, made room on the seat beside him, and they were soon
engaged in a pleasant chat.
It is not hard for a man of tact to win the confidence of a boy, so
that, before long, the gentleman knew that this was Glen's first journey
from home, and that he was going to Kansas to learn to be an engineer.
"Do you mean a civil-engineer?" he asked, "or an engine-driver?"
"Oh, a civil-engineer, of course!" answered the boy; "for I can run a
locomotive now, almost as well as father, and that used to be his
business."
Then he explained that his father, who was now a master mechanic, had
given him careful instruction in the art of running a pony switch engine
that belonged to the Brimfield Mills, and that once, when the
engine-driver was ill, he had been placed in charge of it for a whole
day.
"That is a most useful accomplishment," remarked the gentleman, "and one
that I should be glad to acquire myself."
When the train stopped at an eating station they went in to supper
together, and Glen began to think that, in his new friend, he had found
a second Mr. Hobart, which was the very nicest thing he could think
about anybody.
The boy did not forget to carry a cup of tea and a glass of milk into
the car for Mrs. Winn and Nettie, for which act of thoughtfulness he was
rewarded by a grateful smile and hearty thanks.
He wondered somewhat at the several men who every now and then came into
the car and exchanged a few words in low tone with his other train
acquaintance, and also wondered that the gentleman should leave the car
and walk towards the forward end of the train every time it stopped at a
station.
Glen was so tired that he had his berth made up and turned in very
early; but for a long time found himself unable to sleep, so busy were
his thoughts. At length, however, he fell into a sound, dreamless
slumber, that lasted for hours, though he knew nothing of the passage of
time.
He was suddenly awakened by a loud noise, and found himself sitting bolt
upright in his berth, listening, bewildered and half frightened, to a
confused sound of pistol-shots, shouts, and screams. The train was
motionless. The screams were evidently those of fright, and came from
the car he was in, while the other and more terrifying sounds reached
his ears from some distance.