UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE.
Ben had just knocked at a back door and a man was threatening to set
the dogs on him if he did not take himself off, and he was in the
midst of eloquent protest, that he was no tramp and was not doing this
thing from necessity, when Tommy awoke him, and he started up with
his protest but half uttered, to find the night air quite chilly, and
countless stars in the coverlet of Earth winking and blinking at him in
a most familiar manner.
"Get up," said Tommy. "It is ten o'clock! If you sleep that way much
longer you will talk yourself to death."
"Have I been talking in my sleep?" he asked sitting up with a yawn.
"I should say so, indeed," replied Tom. "I've been listening to you for
the past half an hour." He did not further state that during the half
hour he had bent, like a timid girl, over Ben and kissed him on cheek
and forehead--but not on the lips. But such was the fact.
"Come, it's ten o'clock and the freight is about due," said he.
"How do you know what time it is?"
"By my watch, of course. How else?"
"Have you a watch?" asked Ben, in surprise.
"To be sure. A splendid time piece. Been running these thousands of
years, and never yet needed repairing. There it is," and he pointed to
the Heavens.
"Where?"
"Why up there--the Big Dipper! You can tell time by the handle of it.
Now you _have_ learned something. Get up!"
Again on his feet he found himself quite stiff. It appeared to him as
though all of his joints were soldered together.
"Oh you will soon get used to that," consolingly reflected Tommy. "Bump
your back against a tree and that will shake you limber. Hi! Here she
comes! Now for it! Hurry up!" And in the distance was seen the great
Cyclopean eye of a locomotive, and the rumble of the approaching train
filled the air.
"Hold on Tom! I can't get on my boots," exclaimed Ben, striving to
force his swollen feet into them.
"We can't wait, Ben. Come on in your stockings. Carry your boots in
your hand. Hurry up! Here she is!"
Thus urged he limped over the rough ground with his boots in his hand.
"Not this side," said Tommy. "Take the other side of the track; they'll
see us here. Come, look sharp and get over before the headlight
discovers us."
Ben hobbled over the track and both crouched down behind a pile of old
rails on the opposite side from the tank. While cowering there the
train drew up with a rush, and a roar, and a screeching of brakes, and
stopped to fill its own tank.
Scarce had it come to a standstill when three figures glided like
shadows from among the cars, and swiftly ran and hid behind the pile
of rails where our friends were crouching. One of them observing them
asked, in a hoarse whisper:
"Goin' to jump her?"
"Yes," whispered Tom in reply. "What's the show?"
"None at all," returned the other. "She's a loaded train. Every box
locked. We've been making it on the drawheads from Newark. That's your
only show."
Tom uttered an exclamation of disappointment.
"Ben, can you ride bumpers?"
"I think so. What are they?"
"Bumpers. Drawheads. The coupling between the cars. Here's three beats
riding drawheads and they say it's our only show. If you think you can,
we will try it."
Our hero answered that he had no experience in the business, but was
willing to make the attempt.
"It's death, to fall," said Tommy; and then the boy cogitated a moment,
and whispered:
"It won't do. You couldn't do it. Not in your stocking feet anyway.
We'll have to let this train go."
At this time the whistle sounded "off brakes," and the engine wheels
began to revolve. As the train got under headway, the three figures
stealthily stole forth, and plunging between the cars, the long
screeching, grinding chain of wheels, appear to roll over them and
grind them out of existence.
Not so, however. As the train sped away, each of the three was dangling
on that narrow, precarious, bumping, jerking little platform, made by
the links and connecting drawheads of the cars. A most dangerous place
truly, and many a tramp has left them for Eternity. A jolt! The foot
slips! A yell! And all is over. The tramp is finished.
But Ben discovered before he reached New Orleans that the bumpers were
not the most dangerous place about a train on which men attempted to
steal rides. When no other opportunity offers, as in the case of a
passenger train sometimes, the trucks beneath the cars are improved,
where with a constant roar in their ears, a storm of dust and gravel in
their faces, and a cramped position--like a contortionist in his box
among the bottles--these knights of vagabondage cling on like squirrels.
Sometimes there is an extra heavy jolt, or a larger stone than usual
strikes them on the head. In such cases the coroner's jury discover
that the man was a tramp and came to his death by being run over by the
cars. What would we do without coroner's juries?
Tommy watched the retreating train for some time, and then said to Ben:
"Never mind; better luck next time. I don't think you could have made
it on the bumpers. Here's my knife. Cut your boots so that you can
get them on. The lightning express will be along soon, and we can make
fifty or sixty miles on it. If the express car has an open end, by
thunder, we'll _jump the pilot_!"
"What did those men get off for?" asked Ben.
"Why," explained Tom, "when the train stops, they take to cover so that
the train men will not see them."
"There were three making their way on that train."
"Hard telling," replied Tom. "There may have been a dozen; on the
trucks, and bumpers, and hanging on the ladders; besides some that may
have forced an end gate and locked themselves in a box. When I was at
Albany, there came in a train from the west and I heard the conductor
boast that he'd made _one_ trip without a deadhead. Well, Ben, when
they came to open one of the cars that had wheat in it they found a man
inside dead as a herring. He had forced the end gate and then nailed
himself in, and I expect the dust or something smothered him before he
could get it open for fresh air."
"That was a deadhead, sure enough. Did they find out who he was?" asked
Ben.
"Bless you, no. What does any one care about a dead _tramp_. I was in
hopes there'd be an empty on that train that we could have jumped, and
made it clean through to Philadelphia. Now we will have to give the
Express a whirl."
Ben had scarce got his boots on, after cutting them considerably, when
the express was heard thundering in the distance.
"Look alive now!" cried Tom. "Follow me close. She hardly stops at
all,--only just slacks up for that crossing ahead."
Down rushed the express on another track from the one occupied by the
freight, and as it slacked its speed near the travellers, they sprang
from their hiding place, and hugging tight to the side of the still
moving train, ran along it toward the forward end. One look at the
express car sufficed for Tom.
"No go!" he hurriedly whispered. "There's a door in the end. Make for
the pilot. Quick! Quick!"
Expedition was necessary, for the air breaks had released their grip
upon the wheels, and the train was again assuming speed.
Tom rushed in front of the locomotive and with a spring and a scramble,
safely seated himself on the platform immediately above and in the rear
of the pilot; or, as it is better known in schoolboy nomenclature, the
"cow-catcher."
Ben was not so fortunate. With a scantier knowledge of their
construction and the art of boarding them, his foot slipped from the
inclined grating and struck the fast retreating rail beneath. Another
instant and he would have been drawn down to death, had not Tommy's
hand grasped his collar and aided him up.
"Thank you, Tommy," he said warmly, "I owe you one."
"You may be able to pay me sometime. Aint this old peaches!" And
Tommy gazed on the great broad pathway of light in front, made by the
Cyclopean eye over head.
The novelty of his new position was exhilarating to Ben. There was a
spice of danger about it, that made it enchanting.
What if the locomotive should jump the track! Or should be ditched!
Or run into another train! Or strike some stray animal! It rocked and
swayed to and fro like a ship at sea. He could hardly satisfy himself
that this rattling, rickety, rocking, jumping, sliding, groaning iron
horse was the same metallic animal that pulled those easy riding,
luxurious coaches he had so often rode in. It appeared to him--novice
in locomotive riding as he was--that every moment the steel-shod steed
was about to leave the track and take to the fields. Singular too, it
was neither cold nor windy; for nestling close against the iron boiler
head both felt quite comfortable.
"Tommy," said Ben, "suppose we should catch up a horse?"
"Then we'd be a horse ahead," replied Tom. "I met a tramp who had taken
a ride on a cow-catcher on the New York Central. He was bound for
Buffalo. Well sir, they caught up a big pig, and landed it all unhurt,
but terribly scared, right into the tramp's lap. He hung on to it, and
when he got the bounce, he took the pig with him and sold it for enough
to pay his fare to Buffalo."
"And bought a ticket out of his hog speculation?" suggested Ben.
"Of course not. He went on a big spree, got broke again, and beat his
way through."
Ben was about protesting against such a misappliance of the means good
fortune had placed at the tramp's disposal, when the current of his
thoughts was radically changed, by a lump of coal striking him on the
foot.
"Hello! What's that?" he exclaimed.
"Wait a moment and I'll see," said Tommy, rising and peering over the
rim of the boiler. Scarce had his head appeared above it however, when
he quickly dodged back, and another lump flew whizzing down the broad
avenue of light.
"Just as I suspected," said he; "they know we are here and the fireman
is pegging coal at us to amuse himself."
"What will we do?"
"Why, we can't do any thing, only wrap our coats over our heads and let
him peg away. They can't bounce us until the train stops."
But the fireman soon tired of his sport, and only an occasional missile
reminded the voyagers that their presence was known in the cab.
Once Ben in changing his position, arose to his feet and looked the
Cyclopean eye square in the pupil. Tom hastily pulled him down; but
none too soon, for a shower of coal announced the indignation he had
excited behind them.
He really enjoyed the ride and could scarce credit his senses when his
companion informed him that they had come forty miles. It was agreed
to leave the pilot the moment the train slackened speed enough to
permit their so doing, and Tommy thought that it would be impolitic to
attempt to "jump" it again, as their presence was known. Therefore,
when the train drew up on entering the depot at Trenton, our voyagers
jumped from their perch and were greeted with a shower of coal and a
volley of imprecations by the irate fireman, both missiles passing them
harmlessly.
As they turned to look at the long line of passenger coaches, now
slowly drawing to a stop in the depot, Ben uttered a cry of surprise.
Seated at an open window he had seen the great, glorious, grey eyes,
and their owner. Beside her sat an elderly gentleman, while in a seat,
immediately in their rear, was his antagonist of the previous evening.
His own surprise prevented him from noticing that Tommy's face had
grown ashy white, and while the boy's teeth were clenched until his
lips grew blue, his eyes glowed with an unnatural fire. Cleveland was
about to move off toward the train, when Tommy caught him by the arm.
"Where are you going?" he asked, hotly.
"On that train, Tom; I must, I must!" answered he, little appreciating
what he was saying.
"Don't be a fool. What are you going to do on that train without money?"
Ben immediately recovered his senses, and looked dejected.
"What's the matter with you, partner?" asked Tommy as he took him by
the arm and the two turned away. "What ails you?"
"Tom," said Ben solemnly, "it may seem very foolish to you, but I
should like to know that young lady, very much."
"What for?"
"I--I don't really know; but I should, indeed I should!" he repeated
earnestly.
"Ben, I'll tell you something for your consolation," said the boy;
"they are going to St. Louis, too!"
"Who?" asked Ben, in surprise.
"That young woman with the grey eyes."
Ben looked his amazement:
"Tom," he at last said, "who are you?"
"I'm myself," replied Tom. "There's no mystery about me, partner. That
party is going to St. Louis, and I happened to overhear them say so in
Jersey City. Perhaps you may meet them there; and," he added in a lower
tone that Ben did not hear, "perhaps _I_ may."