The Iron Horse, Robert Michael Ballantyne [good ebook reader .TXT] 📗

but we need scarcely say that such was not the case. Several trucks of goods were dropped by both trains, to be carried on by other trains, and several trucks that had been left by other trains, were taken up, and thus in a few minutes a part of the enormous traffic of the line was assorted.

Sam had judged his time well. He had got a good piece of work advanced, and both trains well out of the way, just before the bell again intimated the approach of the limited mail. He replied, set the line free, booked the passage of the goods train, and sat down once more to dinner, just as the door of his box opened and the pretty face of Gertie peeped in.

We are not sure that such a visit would be permitted in these days of stringent "rules;" at that time they may not have been very particular as to visitors, or perhaps Gertie, being one of themselves, as it were, was privileged. Be this as it may, there she was with a laughing face.

"May I come in, Sam?"

"May a cherub from the skies come in--yes," replied Sam, rising and lifting Gertie in his strong arms until he could print a kiss on her forehead without stooping. "All well at home, Gertie?"

"Very well, thank you. We expect father home to tea."

"I know that," said Sam, sitting down at his small table and attempting dinner once again.

"How do you know that?" asked Gertie in surprise.

"'Cause I've got to pass him up wi' the express in half-an-hour," replied Sam, with his mouth full, "and, of course, he don't prefer takin' tea on the _Lightenin'_ with his mate Bill Garvie, w'en he's got a chance o' takin' it wi' his wife and a little angel, like you."

"I wish you'd not talk nonsense, Sam," remonstrated Gertie with a serious look.

"That ain't nonsense," said Sam, stoutly.

"Yes, it is," said Gertie; "you know angels are good."

"Well, and ain't you good?" demanded the signalman, filling his mouth with a potato.

"Mother says I am, and I feel as if I was," replied Gertie with much simplicity, "but you know angels are _very_ _very_ good, and, of _course_, I'm not near so good as them."

"You are," said Sam, with an obstinate snap at a piece of meat; "you're better than any of 'em. You only want wings to be complete."

Gertie laughed, and then remarked that Sam dined late, to which Sam replied that he did, that he preferred it, and that he didn't see why gentlefolk should have that sort of fun all to themselves.

"What's that?" exclaimed Gertie, as Sam dropped his knife and fork, rang his electric bell, and laid hold of a lever.

"The limited mail, my dear," said Sam, as the train rushed by.

"Oh, how it shakes the house! I wonder it don't fall," exclaimed the child.

"It's made to be well shaken, like a bottle o' bad physic," replied Sam, as he went through the various processes already described, before sitting down to finish his oft-interrupted meal.

"Do you always take your dinner in that uncomfortable way?" asked Gertie, sitting down on the chest and looking earnestly into the manly countenance of her friend.

"Mostly," said Sam, at last finishing off with a draught of pure water, and smacking his lips.

"Sometimes it's all I can do to get it eaten--other times I'm not so hard pressed, but it's never got over without interruption, more or less."

"Are breakfast and tea as bad?"

"Not quite," replied Sam with a laugh; "about breakfast time the traffic ain't quite so fast and furious, and I takes tea at home."

"How long are you here at a time?" asked the inquisitive Gertie.

"Twelve hours, my dear, and no time allowed for meals."

"Surely you must be very tired?"

"Sometimes, but they talk of shortening the hours soon. There's a want of signalmen just now, that's how it is. But what good fortune has sent _you_ here this evenin', Gertie?"

"I want to ask you about a ring, Sam."

"A ring! What! you ain't goin' to get married already, are you?"

Gertie replied by bursting into a hearty fit of laughter; when she had sufficiently recovered her gravity, she revealed her troubles to the sympathising signalman.

"Well, it _is_ a perplexin' business. What was the old woman doin' wi' such a ring tied up in such a queer way?"

"I don't know," said Gertie.

"Well, it ain't no business of mine, but we must try to git hold of it somehow. I'll be off dooty at six, and your dad'll be passin' in a few minutes. After I'm free, I'll go up to the shed and have a palaver with 'im. There he is."

As he spoke the bell was rung by his signal-friend on the left replied to in the usual way, and in a few minutes the chimney of the _Lightning_ was seen over the top of the embankment that hid a bend of the up-line from view.

"Put your head out here at this window, and be ready to wave your hand, Gertie," said Sam, placing the child.

The "Flying Dutchman" came on in its wonted wild fashion, and for a few seconds Gertie saw her father's bronzed and stern face as he looked straight ahead with his hand on the regulator. John Marrot cast one professional glance up, and gave a professional wave of his right hand to the signalman. At that instant his whole visage lighted up as if a beam of sunshine had suffused it, and his white teeth, uncovered by a smile, gleamed as he flew past and looked back. Gertie waved frantically with her kerchief, which flew from her hand and for some distance followed the train. In another moment the "Flying Dutchman" was a speck in the distance--its terrific crash suddenly reduced by distance to a low rumble.

"Evenin', Jack," said Sam, as his successor or comrade on the "night-shift" entered the box, "Come along now, Gertie. We'll go and see your father. He'll be up at the station in no time, and won't take long to run back to the shed."

So saying, Sam Natly assisted Gertie down the long iron ladder, by which his nest was reached, and walked with her to the engine-shed, which they soon reached. They had not waited long before John Marrot's iron horse came panting slowly into its accustomed stable.

As there were at least twelve iron horses there in all stages of being-put-to-bedism, and some, like naughty boys, were blowing off their steam with absolutely appalling noise, it was next to impossible for Gertie and Sam to make known their difficulty to John. They therefore waited until he had seen his satellites in proper attendance upon his charger, and then left the shed along with him.

When the case was made known to John, he at once said, "Why didn't they apply to the Clearin' House, I wonder?"

"Ah, why not?" said Sam.

"Nurse doesn't know about that place, I think," suggested Gertie.

"Very likely not; but if she'd only gone an' seen any one as know'd anything about the line, she'd have found it out. However, the parcel's pretty sure to be somewhere, so I'll set some inquiries a-foot w'en I goes up to town to-morrow. Good-night, Sam."

"Good-night, John," answered the signalman, as he turned off in the direction of his own dwelling, while the engine-driver and his little daughter pursued the footpath that led to their cottage.

Sam Natly's residence was a very small one, for house-rent was high in that neighbourhood. There were only two rooms in it, but these two bore evidence of being tended by a thrifty housewife; and, truly, when Sam's delicate, but partially recovered, wife met him at the door that night, and gave him a hearty kiss of welcome, no one with an atom of good taste could have avoided admitting that she was a remarkably pretty, as well as thrifty, little woman.

"You're late to-night, Sam," said little Mrs Natly.

"Yes, I've had to go to the shed to see John Marrot about a diamond ring."

"A diamond ring!" exclaimed his wife.

"Yes, a diamond ring."

Hereupon Sam related all he knew about the matter, and you may be sure the subject was quite sufficient to furnish ground for a very lively and speculative conversation, during the preparation and consumption of as nice a little hot supper, as any hard-worked signalman could desire.

"You're tired, Sam," said his little wife anxiously.

"Well, I am a bit. It's no wonder, for it's a pretty hard job to work them levers for twelve hours at a stretch without an interval, even for meals, but I'm gittin' used to it--like the eels to bein' skinned."

"It's a great shame of the Company," cried Mrs Natly with indignation.

"Come, come," cried Sam, "no treason! It ain't such a shame as it looks. You see the Company have just bin introducin' a noo system of signallin', an' they ha'n't got enough of men who understand the thing to work it, d'ye see; so of course we've got to work double tides, as the Jack-tars say. If they _continue_ to keep us at it like that I'll say it's a shame too, but we must give 'em time to git things into workin' order. Besides, they're hard-up just now. There's a deal o' money throw'd away by companies fightin' an' opposin' one another-- cuttin' their own throats, I calls it--and they're awful hard used by the public in the way o' compensation too. It's nothin' short o' plunder and robbery. If the public would claim moderately, and juries would judge fairly, an' directors would fight less, shareholders would git higher dividends, the public would be better served, and railway servants would be less worked and better paid."

"I don't care two straws, Sam," said little Mrs Natly with great firmness, "not two straws for their fightin's, an' joories, and davydens--all I know is that they've no right whatever to kill my 'usband, and it's a great shame!"

With this noble sentiment the earnest little woman concluded the evening's conversation, and allowed her wearied partner to retire to rest.


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.


A SOIREE WILDLY INTERRUPTED, AND FOLLOWED UP BY SURPRISING REVELATIONS.

One afternoon Captain Lee and Emma called on Mrs Tipps, and found her engaged in earnest conversation with Netta. The captain, who was always in a boiling-over condition, and never felt quite happy except when in the act of planning or carrying out some scheme for the increase of general happiness, soon discovered that Netta was discussing the details of a little treat which she meant to give to the boys and girls of a Sunday-school which she and her mother superintended. With all his penetration he did not, however, find out that the matter which called most for consideration was the financial part of the scheme--in other words, how to accomplish the end desired with extremely limited means. He solved the question for them, however, by asserting that he intended to give all the scholars of all the Sunday-schools in the neighbourhood a treat, and of course meant to include Netta's school among the rest-- unless, of course, she possessed so much exclusive pride as to