IN an instant my senses were flogged into a stupendous state of
excitement, and my eyes must have bulged when I looked again at the
blackened pad and then at the pencil point that had been blown off as
though it had itself exploded. Then I thought of that crazy, love-sick
Gus who had been driving nails into the case, and I sickened. Surely
there is a Divine Providence that protects fools at least. Hiram had
scratched matches against that case!
My knees shook and my hand trembled, and I do not think I could have
uttered a sound. I looked for Strong. He was just coming out of the
quarry office. I took one long step to rush back to the station, but saw
the locomotive approaching, laboring hard with its immense load and
throwing clouds of black smoke from its stack that slowly expanded into
an immense dirigible in the still, sluggish atmosphere.
Should the conductor fling his report in at the window fastened to a
spike or a piece of granite and hit that case of dynamite--what would
happen? This had been done many times, and nothing occurred, but the law
of average must prevail in due time. A sickening sensation took
possession of me, and I became as rigid as stone. I felt as though ten
pounds of lead was in the pit of my stomach; my mind was filled with
monstrous forebodings, for one hundred persons were within easy range of
that case of explosive--including Anna Bell. I could not prevent Hiram's
arrest and trial for criminal negligence if the facts became known. But
Gus was the culprit, if any one.
As I looked back, Hiram was approaching. Somehow I did not want to tell
him. It seemed unnecessary, and I could save him that much apprehension.
I must have looked strange to him when he came up to where I stood as
one ossified. He took hold of my arm, and said fraternally: "Come on,
Ben; you look as white as if you had seen a ghost." But I could not
move. I only stared at the passing train.
Hiram plucked my sleeve. "Ben, you look as though you were standing
before a firing squad--just as I must have looked when the Gold-Beater
told me to 'git up and git.'"
I could only raise my hand warningly and stare at the passing train. It
seemed to me the longest train I ever knew one locomotive to haul, and
though it was moving at least twenty miles per hour it appeared to
creep.
I raised my hand to my forehead and found it dripping with perspiration;
Hiram grabbed my shoulders with both hands and shook me.
"Ben, have you gone stark mad?"
I had forgotten he was there and scarcely heard or felt him. I saw the
way-car emerge from the trees and approach the station. I could not help
raising my arm and point that way and did not lower it until we were
both thrown violently to the ground.
It is useless to try to describe the crashing of the intonation on my
ears. I thought my hearing was destroyed. Before the concussion threw us
prone there was a fleeting impression of a dense red flame that came
from the station. The instant the way-car passed it was lifted from the
track. I afterward learned it was detached from the cars ahead and
rolled over twice.
The man who said there are words to describe everything groveled in
ignorance. I saw Hiram running toward the station; he fairly flew, his
legs moving rapidly as though motor-driven. I saw he did not even relax
his speed when he ran around the deep hole where the station had stood a
few moments before, but continued to D. R. Morgan's store and beyond
that to the residence--or maybe he was going to the river to do as he
had advised the love-sick Gus. I only know what he told me about it
afterward. How the conductor and rear brakeman, after being rattled
about in the way-car as dice in a box, escaped with only bruises and
cuts was a wonder to me, and when I finally learned that the fatalities
were confined to a team of mules forced through the front of Morgan's
store, my relief was immense.
Gus escaped from the Morgan house in his night shirt, and ran down under
the river bank, cowering and cringing, along with most of the black
population. It was difficult to convince him he could go back to bed in
safety. The darkies eventually realized that it was not Gabriel's last
call, and were coaxed away from the protecting bank to help remove the
mules from the front of Morgan's wrecked store.
When Hiram returned from the Morgan residence he was fairly composed. He
came to me at once.
"This is pretty bad business; was any one killed?" he asked, bracing
himself.
"No, but it is a marvel."
"They will blame me?"
"Yes, likely, at first. Make no statement to any one. Was your safe
locked? How about cash and station records?"
"Yes, it is always locked; kept everything there since Gus acted luny;
but hasn't it been destroyed?"
"We'll go and see."
The hole where once stood the depot would easily contain a freight house
and more. Rails of the main track were ripped up and twisted as though
made of wheat straw. We found the safe apparently intact, sticking out
of the débris.
Railroad tickets were scattered about like fallen leaves. When he found
his ticket stamp he was greatly relieved and almost laughed. How had he
suddenly acquired such fortitude and acumen? Was it the Gold-Beater's
blood unleashed by work and decent living? When we found parts of the
new typewriter he laughed grimly, tossing his head backward.
I thought it best for Hiram that he should not know how it happened
until after he was grilled, as I knew he would soon be.
The Yazoo railroad did one thing quickly and well. In less than an hour
they had a wrecker on the job, and by utilizing the outside track had
established a detour which let Superintendent Kitchell's "special"
through from the north.
The wrecker reached into the débris with its long steel arm, picked up
the safe, and swung it into the superintendent's car. He told Hiram and
Gus they were relieved, and to come with him to New Orleans.
Hiram obeyed the order without a murmur, but nevertheless took plenty of
time to pack all of his belongings. He seemed to know he was through in
Quarrytown. I suspected he was rather deliberate in bidding the Morgan
family good-by, taking some time to do it, and was apparently much
excited and flushed when he boarded the superintendent's car and waved a
cordial good-by to a girlish figure who stood in front of the Morgan
store waving back at him.