CHAPTER III
SLEEPING OUT
The world looked dark to the widow Connor when her husband and her eldest son were sleeping among the crosses in the little Catholic graveyard.
Mrs. McGuire sent Denis to see Heidelberg, and when the roadmaster came up from East St. Louis these three officials held an important and animated meeting.
This conference was interrupted by Tommy McGuire, who burst in upon them like a sunrise in the desert.
“I got a scheme,” said he to the agent, who, having grown up under a cloud similar to that which hung over the freckled youth in front of him, beamed upon the boy encouragingly and bade him reveal his plans. “Yo’ see,” said Tommy, ignoring the roadmaster (he never noticed his father, probably because his father never noticed him), “Jack can’t keep th’ pump, ’cause he can’t harness d’ mule, an’ he can’t mind d’ bridge ’cause it’s too lonesome. Now I aint got nofin t’ do, an’ I can run d’ pump in daytime, an’ Jack can sleep n ’en I can sleep in d’ shanty nights, an’ Jack can wake me when d’ Midnight Express goes by, n ’ne I can go t’ sleep agin.”
Tommy had talked very rapidly, and now as he paused for breath he glanced at the roadmaster.
“And who’s goin’ t’ ’arness th’ mule fur ye, me lad?” asked the gruff official.
Tommy gave him a dark look and turned to the agent, as much as to say, “This is our end of the road.”
“I seen Mr. Collins,” he said to the station-master, “an’ he’s goin’ t’ build me a platform long side d’ stall so I can harness d’ mule and jump on his back an’ go to me work ’thout asken any odds uv U. P. er anybody, an’ till he gets d’ platform done d’ mule can sleep in his harness a few nights—taint no worse fur ’im than fur me t’ sleep in me clothes, an’ that’s what I’m goin’ to do.”