THE WAY OF ESCAPE.
IN the darkness Olive kept tight hold of Carlos' hand. They ran swiftly
and softly, like frightened hares, each moment dreading to hear
footsteps behind them. But the darkness hid their tracks and a wind was
blowing, which shifted the sand and whirled it into hills and hollows,
so that not even an Indian could find the print of any passing foot.
Besides, old Laska slept soundly and she had not stirred when Olive
stole out from her tent.
Carlos marched toward the east, where the sky looked less dark, until
the cold dawn broke. Before the sun was well up the boy saw something
glinting and glimmering ahead of them like a long steel serpent. He gave
a cry of victory. Breaking away from Olive, Carlos ran ahead. For a
moment he stood balancing himself on the track rails, waving his thin
brown arms and crowing like a young chanticler.
"We will rest here by the iron trail," he announced happily. "I will
build a fire and we will eat. By and by the great wagon will pass by,
roaring and snorting like an angry buffalo. It will take you with it."
For a moment the boy's face clouded. Then, as Olive reached his side, he
laughed at the thought of her joy.
"But, Carlos," Olive whispered. She was weary and almost frozen from her
long tramp across the plains. "You have brought me to the railroad
track, but where is the station? Did you not know that the white man's
trains will not stop unless there is a little house set up by a wooden
platform, where a man at a window sells you small squares of paper?"
Carlos shook his head in confusion. He had no idea what Olive was
talking about, for he had never seen a railroad depot in the twelve
years of his wandering life. But he saw Olive's disappointment and knew
that something in his beautiful plan for his friend was wrong.
"Never you mind, girl," Carlos insisted, shaking his straight, black
hair, like a little foreign king, "I will see that the wagon stops for
you here, where we wait."
Olive dropped down on the ground, too tired to argue or to explain any
further. Carlos ran along the track, finding a few odd sticks and pieces
of wood. He made a little fire, into which he stuck one long stick, like
a staff, which he had carried from the camp; but he saw that only the
end of it burned.
Hungrily Olive ate. She believed that she must follow the railroad track
until she came to a depot. She had no way of guessing how many more
miles she must walk, nor how many trains passed over this iron pathway
through the desert; but she did know that she must save whatever
strength she had, as her only hope was to reach a city somewhere. She
had not Carlos' faith, that the train would take her straight into the
arms of her beloved friends, yet she knew that once in a town, she could
probably find a way of communicating with them.
Carlos and Olive did not dare to talk. Olive was listening for the sound
of a horse's hoofs, knowing that the journey, which had been so long on
foot, could be made on horseback in a little while, if old Laska ever
guessed the route they had taken. But Carlos listened for a louder
noise and one to him far less familiar.
The boy and girl heard it at the same instant and both sprang to their
feet. Olive's face grew white and rigid with disappointment; but the
boy's eyes flashed with excitement. The train was coming along the track
past the spot where Olive and Carlos rested. Olive feared that her only
chance of escape for that day was gone. She had hoped to reach a depot
before a train went by them.
Nearer the roar of the engine sounded. It was in sight far off across
the desert, but a very few minutes brought it close.
Olive stepped quickly back to be out of danger and seized Carlos by his
woolen shirt to drag him with her. The boy jerked away, and before Olive
could dream what he intended to do, he grabbed his burning stick from
the fire. "I'll stop the train for you," he shouted valiantly. "Only be
quick. You must get on when I command it."
Like a flash, the brave, brown figure ran along the track, waving his
tiny torch and facing with all his feeble strength the great monster of
iron and steel that was driving toward him. The blood of many centuries
of Indian chiefs must have been back of little Carlos. He dared the
unknown force of this engine to-day, as his ancestors had the bullets
and powder of their white enemies, with the same blind belief in his own
power against the forces of civilization.
Olive saw Carlos go, with a feeling of sickening horror. The boy was so
small, so stupidly audacious. Olive's, "Come back, come back!" was lost
in the noise of the train, but Carlos would not have heeded her. What
Indian chief has ever obeyed a woman? There seemed to be but one fate
for him,--he would be crushed to death in an instant.
The engineer saw the boy running toward his train, and the fire which
Olive and Carlos had built near the track. He had but one thought: there
must be danger somewhere ahead of them and these children had come to
warn him.
Fortunately for Carlos, the train which he had chosen for Olive's escape
was not one of passenger coaches, but a freight train. The engine was
going at far less speed, and quickly slowed down and stopped.
"Come, come, Olive," the boy shouted triumphantly, this time waving his
burning stick like a conquering hero.
Olive ran toward the car, dazed, breathless, hardly knowing what had
taken place, nor what she was doing. The Indian boy's spirit had somehow
seized hold on the situation.
"What has happened, imp?" the engineer roared out of his car window. "Is
something wrong ahead on the track?"
Carlos danced up and down, as though he did not understand what the
engineer asked. He had only a dim idea of the man's meaning as he knew
so few English words. Olive was slipping by him and Carlos saw that she
meant to do what he had planned. The engineer was climbing out of his
cab, his back being turned, so that he did not see Olive swing herself
up into the next car. In an instant the girl had hidden herself in the
midst of great piles of boxes, unobserved by the other trainmen, who
were also interested in Carlos.
The engineer was determined to find out what the Indian lad had to tell
him. If the boy had fooled him and there was nothing for them to fear
ahead, he should get the punishment he deserved.
Carlos guessed the engineer's meaning from the expression of his face.
The boy made a dart that was almost as swift as the first plunge of an
arrow from a bow. He was a small brown spot some distance off, when the
engineer made up his mind to run after him. The man did run for a few
rods, but the idea of catching the boy was ridiculous. He was like a
breath of wind, blowing this way and that across the prairie. He could
lead the engineer off into the desert, so that he would not know how to
return, and the man realized this. He climbed slowly back into his
engine, determined to watch out himself for trouble along the track;
believing, however, that Carlos had played an ugly trick on him. It
would have gone hard with Olive if she had been discovered at this time.
The train went tardily on. Olive could hear the men moving on the top of
the coach over her head. Once or twice a dirty-faced trainman stuck his
head in the open door of the freight car, but he saw nothing of the
frightened girl huddled between the boxes. Olive of course had no
knowledge of where she was going. Her plan was to crawl out of the car
as soon as it stopped at a town and then try to find some one to help
her.
But the car did not stop and Olive finally fell asleep.