“But, my dear man,” stammered the “high official,” wholly taken aback. “How can you make such statements? I had absolutely no intention—no such intentions at all. How can you make such a charge?”
“The facts, sir, speak for themselves. My brakeman discovers his superior closeted in the ice chest of a refrigerator car with a young woman and an unknown man. When he endeavours to exercise that authority with which he is vested by the rules of this company and requests the said young woman and unknown man to leave the train at once, you, my dear sir, impose the force of your superior station, and taking all responsibility upon yourself order him to ‘trot along.’ I claim that such conduct destroys efficiency and is fatal to discipline.”
Our young entertainer seemed at a loss for a reply; then he plunged into a long explanation of our presence and his intentions regarding us. The conductor listened with an air of undiminished coldness.
“Very well, sir,” he said shortly, at the close of the harangue. “Your conduct is, of course, highly irregular, but I shall make no report of it—at least not at present,” fixing the unfortunate “high official” with a piercing glance. “As to your er—guests, I shall leave the matter of their disposition entirely in your hands, since you have assumed the responsibility.”
The conductor swung himself out of the ice box while the young man turned his harassed gaze upon us.
“You better get off at Auburn,” he said weakly. “Climb out as soon as the train stops, so nobody will see you.”
As he clambered slowly out, the general impression was that of a man about three sizes smaller than the one who had entered.
We left the car the instant the train stopped at Auburn, but as we hastened away we were hailed with loud shouts by the train crew, who followed us on the run, headed by the brakeman. We stopped behind a row of boxcars as they joined us. With whoops and howls they slapped one another on the back, danced about, doubled up and fairly rolled on the ground in convulsions of laughter.
“Say, didn’t our old man hand that fellow some chunks of language? Say now; didn’t he?” gasped the brakeman when he could speak.
“He passed it out like a regular dictionary. Just the same kind of dope that Little Tom-tit has been feeding us on so long,” sputtered the fireman, who it seems had left the engine on the way down to join the gleeful circle about the manhole while the circus was going on within.