IN WHICH A LINE IS DRAWN AND CROSSED.
"Say, are you asleep?" came the low voice of the tramp at the side of
Banborough's berth in the early hours of the morning.
The speaker stood in the aisle of the sleeper and was bending over him,
half dressed, the contrast between the sleek outer garments of the
Quaker and the rough underwear of the tramp giving him a most grotesque
appearance.
"Eh? what?" said Cecil, rousing himself, and noting, as he did so, that
it was still dark. A moment later he was fully awake, saying, as he sat
up in his bunk: "Is anything the matter?"
"I'm afraid so. We've stopped here more'n ten minutes already, and we're
scheduled to run through."
"Well, what of it?" said the Englishman, somewhat testily, for he was
very weary, and resented having his rest broken. "I suppose it's only a
hot box."
"Hot box be blowed! It's us they're after. If you looks round the corner
of your curtain, you can see the cops on the platform."
Cecil did as he was bidden, and, drawing back hastily, said:
"You're right. I'm afraid the game is up. Where are we, anyway?"
"If this is the station I take it to be, we're just on the line between
the two countries. But whether our car's in Canady or the States is
more'n I can tell."
"Is there anything to be done?" asked Banborough, turning to Smith and
Spotts, who at this moment quietly joined the Quaker at the Englishman's
bedside.
"Plenty," replied Spotts. "It's only a question of going North. Ten feet
may mean the difference between a prison and the 'Windsor.'"
"Well, what shall we do?"
"Are you dressed?"
"All but my boots and coat," answered Cecil. "I'm not enough of a
gymnast to disrobe in a space six feet by two, and besides I thought
something of this sort might occur."
"Well, get into your boots, then, and don't make any more noise than
necessary," said Spotts. "The ladies must be ready by this time. You
were called last."
"Are you going to make a bolt for it?" queried Banborough, as he put one
foot out of bed.
"Sh!" returned Spotts. "Not so loud! The officials out there on the
platform are not sure that we're on board. My suggestion that Mrs.
Mackintosh should buy the tickets was a lucky move, as she was not
known. I'm going to pull the bell-cord as a sign to start, in the hopes
that the engineer will get going before the conductor has time to
reverse the signal, which means we'll run to the next station. If we
don't succeed in pulling out, we'll just have to jump off and sprint for
it."
"Go ahead," said Banborough. "I'll have my boots on by the time I want
them."
The actor took a cautious look round the sleeper. Quiet reigned, except
for their own little party, who were by this time all gathered together,
the ladies having joined them.
"Now!" said Friend Othniel. And Spotts, reaching up, gave two sharp
jerks to the cord which swung from the centre of the car.
Instantly the air-brakes were relaxed, the engine gave forth a series of
mighty exhausts, the great driving-wheels spun round for a second on the
rails, then caught their grip, and the train began to move out of the
station.
A perfect pandemonium at once arose without. Shouts, gesticulations, and
the waving of a multitude of lights, but the train still kept on moving,
and the last car, in which the fugitives were, was sweeping past the
station building, when the conductor, capless, but lantern in hand,
emerged from the ticket-office and sprang for the rear platform of the
train. A second later the quick jerk of the bell-cord and an answering
whistle from the engine told them that he had succeeded in boarding the
train and signalling it to stop.
The Quaker, forgetful of his cloth, swore lustily.
"Come on!" cried Spotts, "we'll have to run for it. They'll back into
the station in a minute, and then we're done for." And suiting the
action to the word, he rushed down the car towards the front of the
train. The rest followed him with the best speed they could muster,
falling over boxes and bundles, getting entangled in stray shoes, and
running foul of swinging portieres. Fortunately the cars were
vestibuled, so the platforms offered no impediment. The train seemed
absolutely interminable, for as they dashed through sleeper after
sleeper, one more always appeared ahead, and Banborough could not help
feeling as he ran, hatless and in his shirt-sleeves, with his coat under
his arm and one shoe-string untied, that the whole thing must after all
be some wildly improbable dream from which he would awake in due
course.
Now they felt the train stand still and then begin slowly to move
backwards, which only hastened their flight. But there is an end to
everything, and presently the last sleeper had been passed through, and
they emerged, hot and breathless, into the baggage-car, immediately
behind the engine. Here for the first time they found an open door, the
vestibules having all been tightly closed.
Spotts, who led the way, wasted no time in explanation, but making one
dash at the burly baggage-master who confronted him, gave him a blow
that sent him flying backwards. At the same instant he managed to trip
up his assistant, causing the two men to come down on the floor
together, bringing with them in their fall two bicycles and half a dozen
crates of eggs.
Grasping any light luggage he could seize, Friend Othniel added this to
the heap, while Spotts, throwing open the great door in the side of the
car, cried:
"Jump for all you're worth!"
Smith stood cowering on the edge of the door-sill, little relishing the
prospect of a wild leap into the night. But the Quaker, who had no time
to waste on arguments, smashed down the top bicycle with one hand, thus
placing his two opponents on their backs on the floor, and swinging
round at the same moment, delivered a kick to the tragedian which sent
him flying into outer darkness after the manner of a spread eagle.
The train was only just moving, and Spotts sprang quickly to the ground,
and, running alongside the car, called to Miss Arminster to jump into
his arms, which she promptly did. Putting her to one side out of the
reach of the train, he ran forward to receive Mrs. Mackintosh; but that
good lady, being unaccustomed to such acrobatic feats, and arriving with
more force than precision, completely bowled him over, and they went
flying into space together. Banborough and Friend Othniel followed
almost immediately, and, both trying to get out of the door at the same
time, collided with considerable force, and performed a series of
somersaults, landing with safety, but emphasis, in a potato-patch.
As the engine swept by them, Cecil sat up and surveyed the scene. It
certainly was an unusual situation, and the half-light of the early
morning only served to make their attitudes the more grotesque. The
party was scattered at large over the field in question. Smith, on one
knee, was rubbing the bruised portions of his body. Miss Arminster, who
had landed safely on her feet, was standing with both hands clasped to
her head, an attitude suggesting concussion of the brain, but which in
reality betokened nothing more dreadful than an utter disarrangement of
her hair. Spotts had assumed an unconventional attitude at her feet,
while the Quaker, face down, with hands and legs outspread, seemed to be
trying to swim due north.
Directly opposite the Englishman, seated erect and prim on what had once
been a hill of potatoes, her bonnet perched rakishly on one ear, and her
grey toupee partially disarranged, hanging with its sustaining hairpins
over her eyes, was Mrs. Mackintosh, firmly grasping in one hand her
green silk parasol which she had never relinquished.
As Banborough met her gaze, she demanded sternly:
"What next, young man, I should like to know?"
"Really, Mrs. Mackintosh," he replied, "if for no other reason, you
ought to be deeply indebted to me as a purveyor of new sensations."
"This is not a time for levity, sir," remarked that lady sternly,
dropping her parasol and hastily restoring her toupee to its original
position, "and I consider it perfectly disgraceful that you should cause
a lady of my character to be arrested in a potato-patch at four o'clock
in the morning!"
"That's just what I've been endeavouring to prevent," he said. "I
believe this to be Canada."
"Then Canada's a very poor sort of a country," she replied snappishly.
The others now approached them, and all eyes were turned to the
railroad station a few hundred yards distant, which was alive with
bobbing lanterns. Presently a cluster of lights detached itself from the
rest and came towards them.
"Do you think they're going to arrest us?" asked Miss Arminster timidly.
"Don't you be afraid, miss," returned Friend Othniel. "You just let me
run this circus, and I'll get you out all right and no mistake."
The party now came up to them. It consisted of the station-master, the
conductor, several trainmen, and the two policemen.
"Here!" said the conductor. "What did you mean by pulling the cord and
starting the train?"
"Because we was anxious to see the beauties of Canady," replied the
tramp.
"Ah, I thought as much," said one of the policemen.
"I am afraid," added the other, "we shall be obliged to persuade you and
your party to stay in the United States for a while. You may consider
yourselves under arrest."
"Thank yer," said the tramp sweetly.
"So, to save trouble," continued the officer, "you might as well come
back quietly with us to the station."
"Yah!" retorted the tramp. "'Will yer walk into my parlour?' said the
spider to the fly. I knows that game, and I guess the climate o' Canady
suits my constitution."
"Nonsense!" replied the policeman. "You aren't over the border by about
two miles."
"Oh, ain't we?" said the tramp. "Just oblige me, then, by putting them
bracelets which I sees hangin' out o' your pocket on my wrists." And he
held out his hands.
The policeman looked sheepish, whispered something to his companion, and
presently they turned their backs on the party and walked away in the
direction of the station.
"We's so stuck on this piece o' land," called Friend Othniel after them,
"that we thinks o' farmin' it permanently. Come back and spend Christmas
with us, won't yer?"
The officers did not deign to notice these remarks, and a few moments
later the train swept by them on its way to Montreal, the baggage-master
and his assistant giving their views on the party in general as they
passed.
The day now really began to break in earnest, bringing with it a cold,
damp chill, which seemed to penetrate to their very marrow. Spotts took
off his coat and wrapped it around the shivering Violet--an act of
chivalry which made Banborough curse his own thoughtlessness. But
Spotts's endeavours to promote the comfort of the company did not end
here. He roused Friend Othniel into action, and succeeded in collecting
a little stubble and underbrush, and with the aid of a few matches they
made an apology for a fire, round which the forlorn party huddled. But,
damp with the early dews, the brush gave out more smoke than flame, only
serving to emphasize their discomfort.
The increasing light showed them something of their surroundings. At
distances varying from a mile to a mile and a half a few dilapidated
dwellings peeped out of a fringe of woods. Everything else was
pine-swamp, with the exception of the one small field of potatoes in
which they were encamped, and which stood out as an oasis in the
wilderness. Through the midst of the landscape straggled a muddy road,
hopelessly impassable for foot-travellers. Certainly the outlook was not
cheering.
It was therefore with a feeling of positive relief that they perceived
shambling towards them the uncouth figure of the station-master. He
paused on the edge of the patch, with one hand embedded in his shock of
hair, and the other grasping a large piece of chalk, and surveyed the
party critically.
"Say," he began after a few moments' silence, "them's my potatoes you're
a-settin' on."
The tramp growled something unintelligible, and the others vouchsafed no
reply whatsoever.
"I guess it must be purty damp out in that field," continued the
station-master, "specially for the ladies, and I thought as how I'd let
yer know as I was a-makin' some coffee over to the station, and yer
could come and get it if yer liked."
"Yes, and get arrested into the bargain," said Spotts.
"I thought of that," replied the man, "and so I've drawed a line onto
the platform with this piece of chalk, jest where the boundary be, and
so long as yer stays to the northard of it yer can't be ketched."
"How are we to know that that is just the boundary?" asked Banborough.
"'Pears to me you're mighty 'spicious. Anyhow, thar's the line and
thar's the coffee. Yer can take it or leave it, jest as yer likes."
"I'd make it worth your while to bring it to us down here," said Cecil.
"Humph!" returned the maker of beverages. "I don't go totin' coffee all
round the country, and I'd like to remind yer as potatoes ain't eggs and
don't need no hatchin', so the sooner you gets through settin' on 'em
the better I'll be pleased." And turning his back he slouched away to
the station.
"What do you think about it?" said Banborough to Spotts.
"I think it's a plan," replied the actor. "A New England farmer never
misses a chance of making a penny when he can do so, and that fellow
would have been glad enough to sell his coffee to us at a fancy price
anywhere we chose to drink it if he hadn't been offered more to entice
us up to the station."
"Well, I'm not going to pass the rest of my days on top of a
potato-hill," said Mrs. Mackintosh spitefully. "I'm so stiff now I can
hardly move."
"Yes, I don't think there's much to wait for," agreed Cecil. "But where
shall we go?"
"To the next station, I guess," said the tramp. "But in Canady that's as
likely to be thirteen miles as it is two, and this track ain't ballasted
for a walking-tour."
The fair Violet heaved a deep sigh.
"What is it?" asked Banborough anxiously. "Don't you feel well?"
"I do feel a little faint," she replied, "but I dare say I'll be better
in a minute. I shouldn't have sighed, only I was thinking what an old
wretch that station-master is, and how good that coffee would have
tasted."
"You shall have some," he said, determined not to be outdone again by
Spotts, "and I'll get it for you myself."
"No, no!" she protested. "I didn't mean that. I shouldn't have said it.
I wouldn't have you go for worlds. You'd surely be arrested."
"Nonsense!" he replied. "I think I can manage it and get back safely,
and you and Mrs. Mackintosh must have something sustaining, for you've a
long walk before you." And, in spite of all remonstrances, he prepared
to set out on his delicate and dangerous mission.
"What's your plan?" asked Friend Othniel, immensely interested now there
was a chance of an adventure.
"I'm going to crawl along in the dry ditch beside the railroad track
till I get up to the station, and then trust to luck. I used to be able
to do a hundred yards in pretty decent time in my Oxford days, and if I
can get into the refreshment-room without being seen, I don't think
they'll catch me."
"Well, good luck to yer," said the tramp, "and if yer should come across
a hunk of pumpkin pie, don't forget your friend Othniel."
Banborough slipped off his overcoat, and donning a pair of heavy dogskin
gloves, the property of the driver of the Black Maria, which the tramp
produced, he watched his opportunity when no one was in sight at the
station, and, cautioning the rest of the party not to betray by their
actions that anything unusual was going on, stole across the open field
and, dropping into the shallow ditch, began his perilous journey.
Within three feet of the edge of the platform all means of concealment
ceased; but feeling that a bold course was the only one which gave any
hope of success, Cecil rose quickly, and, slipping across the exposed
place in an instant, glided into the great woodshed which in that part
of the world, where coal is expensive, forms an important adjunct to
every station. He felt himself practically secure here, as no one was
likely to come for logs so early in the morning; and after waiting for a
few moments to make certain that his presence had not been discovered,
he threw himself down on his face, and, crawling noiselessly on
all-fours across the twenty feet of open platform which intervened
between the woodshed and the main building, achieved the precarious
shelter afforded by the side wall of the house. He then wormed himself
forward till he was close to the front corner; and here his patient
efforts were at last rewarded, for he heard a few scraps of a
conversation which, had he been in a less dangerous position, would have
afforded him infinite amusement.
"I tell you what it is," came the strident voice of the station-master.
"It ain't no mortal manner of use. Why, they spotted me to onct; said
how was they to know I drawed the line correct."
"Ha!" said one of the policemen. "Couldn't you go out and dicker with
them some more?"
"Nope," rejoined the other shortly. "And there's that whole tin o'
coffee in the back room goin' to waste, and I guess they'd have paid
more'n a dollar for it."
"Where's Mr. Marchmont?" asked the second speaker, a remark which caused
Banborough considerable surprise.
"He's been keepin' out o' the way o' them Spaniards," said the
station-master, "lest they should get a sight of him, 'cause he may have
to shadow 'em in Canady, and he don't want 'em to get on to who he is.
He's gone upstairs now to get a snooze, an' that's where I'm goin', too.
There ain't no train for three hours, and I've had enough o' this durned
foolishness."
"What's that?" cried the policeman, as a sharp sound smote their ears.
"Tain't nothin' but the back door slammin'," replied the other. "I must
ha' forgot to latch it. The wind's riz a bit."
"Yes," said the officer, "and it's going to rain presently."
"I guess I'd better go and shet that door."
"No, you stay here; I want to talk to you. We'll let them get thoroughly
drenched, and you can offer them the hospitality of the woodshed. Maybe
we could alter the boundary-line a few feet in the interests of
justice."
Banborough waited to hear no more, but, drawing softly back, sprang to
his feet and ran noiselessly along the side of the house and round to
the unlatched door behind. Now, if ever, was his chance. He dashed into
a room which seemed to be a combination of kitchen and bar, but on the
stove stood a steaming tin can of savoury coffee, while among the
bottles on the shelf, just showing out of its paper wrappings, was a
goodly loaf of white bread. Had he left well alone, and been satisfied
with the coffee, he would have been all right; but the bread tempted
him, and to obtain possession of it he must go behind the bar. This he
hastened to do, unlatching the little swinging gate at the end, when a
scuffling sound from the room above gave place to heavy foot-falls on
the boards, and a moment later Marchmont called down the stairs which
evidently led into the front room:
"Say! One of that gang's in the bar! I saw him come up to the door as I
was lying in bed!" A bit of information which was instantly followed by
a clatter of chairs on the front platform.
Wedged in behind the bar, Banborough felt himself trapped. But a happy
inspiration seizing him, he possessed himself of the can of coffee and,
with the loaf of bread in his other hand, crawled under the protecting
shelf, while just at that moment a particularly strong gust of wind blew
the unlatched door wide open, banging it back against the wall.
To his intense astonishment, Cecil found his hiding-place already
occupied by the recumbent and sleeping form of a man, and, jumping to
the conclusion that he must be either a policeman or a detective, he
promptly sat upon his head with a view to suppressing any inopportune
remarks. A second later three men rushed into the room, and Banborough
held his breath. But luck was with him, for one glance at the empty
stove and the open door satisfied the station-master, who cried:
"Those fellows has bolted with the coffee!" and dashed out at the back,
followed by the policemen.
In a second Cecil was up and out of the bar, but not before he had
received a smashing blow in the ribs from the stranger he had so rudely
awakened. He promptly struck out in return, and from the sputtering and
thrashing sounds which emanated from under the shelf he judged that his
blow had gone home.
Snatching up the coffee and the bread, he dashed through to the front of
the house, and, emerging on the platform, saw a sight which filled his
heart with joy. On the track stood one of those little flat cars,
employed by section-men, which is propelled by means of a wheel and
crank in the centre turned by hand, on the same principle as a
velocipede.
He sprang upon it, deposited his precious burden, and began turning the
crank with feverish energy. To his joy, the car at once started
forward, and under his well-directed pressure went rattling out of the
station, shooting by his three astonished pursuers as they rounded the
corner of the woodshed. Two minutes later he arrived in triumph at the
potato-patch, being warmly welcomed by his admiring companions, who
forthwith fell to and made a satisfying, if frugal, meal.
Just as they were finishing, the station-master came up, and, being
rendered thoroughly amiable by a liberal recompense for the stolen
viands, so far forgot himself, in his appreciation of Banborough's
pluck, as to admit that there was no objection to their taking the flat
car on to the next station, provided they could square it with the
superintendent on arrival, as there were no trains due either way.
"How far is the next station?" asked Cecil, as the party clambered on to
the car.
"About twelve miles," said Miss Arminster.
"Do you know it?" asked Banborough, still glowing under her praises of
his prowess.
"Oh, yes," she replied softly. "I was married there last June."
The Englishman, muttering something under his breath, seized the handles
and, giving them a vicious turn, sent the car spinning northwards.