"It won't hurt her. An' a ounce o' pervention is worth a pound o'
cure."
Later the telegraph-operator took the trouble to shove up his window and
address Martha through it. His tone was loftily supercilious,
ironically facetious.
"Nothing doing! You've been stringing me, I guess!" he sagely opined.
Mrs. Slawson regarded him blandly.
"Certaintly. My husban' an' me, we come twenty-five miles streakin'
through the night on purpose to do it. Such a precious jewel of a fella
as you, anybody'd want to string'm, for safe-keepin', so's he wouldn't
fall down an' roll away an' be lost in a crack o' the floor."
The telegraph-operator grimaced.
"Say, now, no joke! You said you'd tell me the whole story, so I'd know
what I was in for. I ain't hankering to be called down by the Company
for outdoing my duty."
Mrs. Slawson smoothed her dress over her knees. "Come an' sit on my lap,
sonny-boy, an' I'll tell you all about it. Only bein' so young, an'
havin' such a tender conscience with you, it might keep you awake in
your crib nights. Did you ever see weels, as thick as my thumb, on the
white skin of a young girl's shoulders? Well, I could turn back the
waist o' that one in there, an' show you such. Raised by the
leather-belt o' her mother's second husban', which they're perfect
ladies an' gen'lmen, o' course, bless their hearts. They will be after
her like mad, when they know she's given'm the slip. Good lan'! If
young fellas was reely young fellas nowadays, you'd be glad of the
chancet to pour some o' the Widow Cruse's oil on a poor ill-used child's
troubled waters. An' not be thinkin' o' yourself all the time--if it'd
harm _you_ to help her, or if the Comp'ny would objec'."
The youth regarded her with level eyes.
"You can count on me," he said. "I'm with you in this, no matter what."
"Good bey!" said Martha.
The hours dragged wearily along. One by one disappointed travelers who
had strayed off to kill time at the hotel, returned to meet their
delayed train.
Martha had advance information concerning its coming, the lad at the
wire furnishing it gratuitously.
"It'll be along now in five minutes," he said, "and I've put the
baggage-man wise, so he's ready to help you get her off, as fine as
silk, even if----"
Just then Martha saw Sam approaching. Though his step and manner were,
to all outward appearances as usual, she instantly knew something was
amiss.
"What is it?" she asked calmly.
"He's come. Him and Harding are here. They haven't seen me nor the car
yet. I put that beyond, under a shed, where it wouldn't be conspicuous.
But we can't dodge them long, and----"
"This way, ma'am!" summoned the baggage-man, touching Martha's elbow.
"I got the young lady ready for you--and the train's coming."
"Take care of yourself, Sam," Martha cautioned him, following her
leader.
The train thundered up. Before it had fairly come to a halt, Buller
sighted Sam. He made a rush toward him, brandishing a menacing arm.
"Keep cool," advised Sam. "And keep off!"
"You've got the girl!" Buller roared. "We know you have, from them as
saw you coming over here, three in the car. Where is she?"
"Find her," said Sam.
Buller turned to Harding. "_You_ handle him, Joe. I'll tackle the
woman."
Martha stood at the baggage-room door, as Buller came pounding down the
platform.
"Hand over that girl!" He spoke with sinister calmness.
"Certaintly," said Martha. "That's just what I'm waitin' to do."
The engine whistled. Buller started toward Martha, getting in the way
of the baggage-man, who was pushing a loaded hand-truck before him. His
elbow sent Buller reeling. In that instant, through a maze, Buller saw
Martha lift what had looked like a piece of burlap-covered baggage from
the truck, and toss it, with sure aim, to the brakeman on the platform
of the slow-moving car. The brakeman caught it deftly, and set it on
its feet. The train slid past.
"Ellen!" Buller cried. Then, turning on Martha, "You--devil!"