A GLIMPSE OF DEATH.
Cleveland hastened down the track in the bright star light, and arrived
at the tank referred to by the two tramps, just in time. For scarce
had he retreated into a clump of weeds, when the freight train made
its appearance and stopped for water. Ben had now some experience in
boarding trains, and in a quiet, stealthy manner crept along the sides
of the cars, with a watchful eye and ear for train men. At last he
found one with an end window open. It proved to be a box car loaded
with lumber, with just the nicest little place in the world for a man
to stow himself away in. The lumber was piled up to within a few inches
of the roof, but between the ends of the planks and the end of the
car was a space about three feet wide, in which he hastened to lower
himself with a congratulatory chuckle.
By feeling the boards he discovered that the load consisted of inch
planks, of dressed lumber, for some three feet from the car floor,
after which followed two inch planking. The ends of the top load of
two inch stuff projected a foot or more, like a verandah roof, over
the inch boards, and made him quite as cosy and comfortable a little
house as the heart of a tramp could desire. What is more it was warm
and clean, and our traveller stretching himself on the floor of his
apartment, was soon sound asleep, with the song of the wheels and the
response of the ringing rails in his ears for a lullaby.
Long he slept, and well; until wicked dreams came to abuse his
curtained sleep. First they intruded upon him in the shape of great,
glorious, grey eyes and a nubia, and several moments of ecstasy were
passed in the company thereof. Indeed many men can make love better
asleep than they can awake, and who of the sterner sex, when young
and lusty in the full vigor of brand new manhood, has not had those
luscious dreams, a counterpart of which it would be impossible for
reality to produce! If there be him who has not had them--he has our
sympathy. Nature has withheld from him one of the choicest bon-bons in
her basket.
So Ben dreamed. He was with _her_. Her hand was in his, her heart
beating against his heart, her warm breath on his cheek, her glowing
breast heaving in gentle undulations against his bosom. She murmured
love, confidence and endearments. He talked heroically, and felt the
cup of his happiness full to running over. But there came a change.
Suddenly a tall dark man came between them, and attempted to separate
the lovers. She clung about his neck and prayed him to save her. But
the dark man overpowered him. He tore her from his arms and wound
his own with an iron grip about Ben's form. He struggled to release
himself. His struggles were futile. Closer and closer grew the embrace.
It seemed as though it was crushing in his bones. He could not breathe
with it. It had assumed the coils of a gigantic serpent, and fold upon
fold was wrapped around his body and tightening upon it. He writhed
and groaned in agony. His breath came short and thick. His head seemed
a molten mass of fire, bursting with the pressure. His eyes started
from their sockets. Yet closer, still closer, the folds drew about him,
and the dark face of the man became the hideous, gaping mouth of a
serpent, that licked him with its forked tongue, and whose hiss sounded
deafening in his ears, while its bright, devilish little eyes gloated
on him with terrible intent.
With a yell of fear and agony he awoke!
His clothes were wringing with sweat, and the perspiration was pouring
from his body. All was dark,--Egyptian darkness,--a fearful, appalling
black!
And though awake, the iron folds still held him in their terrible
embrace. Was he awake! Was it real! Was it not some horrible nightmare
that still accompanied him!
What was this iron hand that clutched him? What these terrible coils
about his person, squeezing life out of him? What this hot, close
burning breath he felt?
Arouse you Ben, arouse and pray! Pray! Pray as you never prayed in your
life before! The gates of Eternity are swinging ajar, and you are to
have a glimpse of DEATH.
One hand, partly released, he extended upward. Horror! It struck
against a solid wall of lumber that completely closed him in, and
converted his chamber into a living tomb. But _there_ was not death.
No, no. That was but the _trap_. Death came surging down upon him in
the shape of four thousand feet of lumber, moving slowly, noiselessly,
but oh, how fearful and sure, upon his devoted body, as the train
toiled up a heavy grade. Already the mass had pinned him to the end
of the car so that he could not move his body. It was crushing in his
very ribs. He found it hard to breathe. His head was on fire. He yelled
and shrieked for help. Prayed; entreated; supplicated. All in vain.
The revolving wheels crunched out a dismal monody beneath him. Requiem
for a dying soul. And afar off could be heard the groaning of the
locomotive as it toiled up the steep mountain side.
Horrible fancies took possession of him. He thought himself dead and
laughed deliriously. Then, in saner moments, he called upon his God
to end his torture, and send a speedy death to his release. A release
from the slow, lethargic, creeping monster, that was sucking up his
life atom by atom; hair's breadth by hair's breadth. In those few
awful moments the panorama of his life was unfolded, and the dead past
resurrected, revealing itself more palpable to him than the living
present. Worse than the tortures of the Inquisition, where weights were
heaped upon the breast of a prostrate man, were now upon him. Shorter
and shorter came his breath. He hated to die! He would not! He could
not! Ha, ha! The great, dull, shapeless fiend that was crushing out
his existence seemed to laugh at him derisively. Blood started from
his nostrils; water gushed from his eyes; and the fiend with one great
yell closed a last clutch upon his life, and he was released from his
agony.
When Ben recovered consciousness he was lying on the floor of the car,
and a kind, rough face was bending over him. There was plenty of room
about him. The last yell of the fiend that was smothering him, when he
lost consciousness, was the whistle of the locomotive announcing that
it had reached the summit of the grade. In the descent on the other
side, the lumber had moved away from him as steadily as it had before
moved down upon him. Had the up grade lasted but a short distance
further, his tramp would have been over forever. There was blood upon
his face as a reminder of the agony he had passed through, and he felt
weak, limp and lifeless, while the clear sun light was streaming in
upon him from the open end gate.
"That was a pretty close call, my friend," said the brakeman, who in
going over the cars had chanced to look in at the open window and
noticed our friend stretched lifeless upon the floor. Though it was
nearly an hour after he had received his squeeze, the man readily
understood the situation and the peril Ben had passed through. "That
was a pretty close call on you."
"It was that," faintly responded Ben.
"I remember you," continued the man; "you are the tramp that whipped
Joe Brown at Harrisburg yesterday. I don't approve of fighting, but I'm
glad you gave _him_ a beating. He's the biggest bully on the road, and
takes a delight in thumping men smaller than himself. Where are you
bound for? St. Louis, hey. And you aint got no money? No? Well there
are a great many travelling in your fix, nowadays, and our orders are
very strict about putting them off the trains. But I'll break rules
this time, and won't know that you're here."
Ben looked his gratitude, and pressed the man's hand.
"You can stay safely here now," he continued; "for the road's pretty
level for some miles yet. When we are to go up the mountains, I'll come
back here, and show you another car that's filled with barrels, and you
can get in at the end window and go safe to Alatoona."
"God bless you!" said Ben fervently. "I feel very weak."
"Yes, I see you do," and a look of sympathy came over the great, rough,
grimy face of the brakeman, and looked well there, although the face
was badly mottled with coal dust and tobacco-juice. "I see you do,
partner. And it's agin rules bad, and they _are_ strict, but when this
crew changes at Alatoona, I'll give you a good word with the man that
takes my place, and you may be able to make it to Pittsburg. There'll
be down brakes in a minute, for a crossing, and I must go. So long."
And his burly figure crawled through the window, and out on the roof of
the car.
Ben had closed his eyes a moment, when they again opened to see the
face of the brakeman, upside down at the end gate, he being extended
flat on the roof of the car.
"I say, partner, that was pretty close, wasn't it?"
Ben nodded.
"Was yer _prepared_, partner?"
Ben looked his surprise.
"Did you know who shoved that there lumber back off of ye?"
Our friend shook his head doubtfully.
"God did it, partner. You might say a word of thanks, if yer felt
so inclined. So long." And the dirt-begrimed, tobacco-painted face
disappeared.