Suddenly he stopped, his chin up, his hands to his sides. A hearty peal of laughter soared from his lips. He was regarding the funny side of the situation. The joke was on them! It was rich! The more he thought of their astonishment on awaking, the more he laughed. He leaned against a car.
His immense levity attracted attention. Four or five men approached him from the shadows of the freight houses, ugly, unsmiling fellows. They demanded of him the cause of his unseemly mirth. With tears in his merry black eyes he related the plight of the pretty slumberers, dwelling more or less sentimentally on the tender beauty of the maiden fair. They plied him with questions. He described the couple—even glowingly. Then the sinister fellows smiled; more than that, they clapped each other on the back and swore splendidly. He was amazed and his own good humour gave way to fierce resentment. What right had these ruffians to laugh at the misfortunes of that unhappy maid?
A switchman came up, and one of the men, a lank American whom we should recognise by the sound of his voice (having heard it before), asked whither the train was bound and when it would first stop in its flight.
"At the Poo quarries, seventeen kilometers down the line. They cut out a few empties there. She goes on to the division point after that."
"Any trains up from that direction this morning?" demanded "Newport."
"Not till this afternoon. Most of the crews are in the city for the—" But the switchman had no listeners beyond that statement.
And so it was that the news spread over town at five o'clock that Truxton King was where he could do no harm. It was well known that the train would make forty miles an hour down the steep grade into the lower valley.
Up into the city strolled Sir Vagabond, his fiddle in his hand, his heart again as light as a feather. Some day—ah, some day! he would see her again on the road. It was always the way. Then he would tell her how unhappy he had been—for a minute. She was so pretty, so very pretty! He sighed profoundly. We see no more of him.
When Truxton King first awoke to the fact that they were no longer lying motionless in the dreary yards, he leaped to his feet with a startled shout of alarm. Loraine sat up, blinking her eyes in half-conscious wonder. It was broad daylight, of course; the train was rattling through the long cut just below the city walls. With frantic energy he pulled open the door. For a minute he stared at the scudding walls of stone so close at hand, uncomprehendingly. Then the truth burst upon him with the force of a mighty blow. He staggered back, his jaw dropping, his eyes glaring.
"What the dev—Great God, Loraine! We're going! We're moving!" he cried hoarsely.