“I’d recalled the fact, while I was talking with Tileson, that the down mail-train from Canada was due to strike the town at two-forty-eight, and was scheduled to continue its run to the eastward at two-fifty-three. I happened to know, too, that it seldom picked up any passengers at that hour of the night: that, in fact, it stopped mainly for the purpose of watering the engine and juggling mail-bags. So I felt fairly confident that nobody would suspect me of having any designs on that particular method of performing a cross-country run. And events proved that I was right.
“Well, after I’d cleared the club, I strolled down the street and took up my position alongside the track, just as the locomotive gave a warning snort and came slowly pulling out from the station. I looked at my watch. It showed two-fifty-three, to a second. I turned and glanced towards the club, and saw a white figure come shooting out into the moonlight, followed by a running accompaniment of darker shapes. And then, as the engine went puffing past, I faced towards the train.
“It gathered headway slowly, and the first cars seemed to crawl by me. But by the time the baggage-car, mail-car, and a pair of ordinary coaches had gone lumbering past, the whole outfit was making pretty fair speed; and when I grabbed the handrail of the Pullman which came along as rear guard to the whole procession, I had to hop like a monkey with Saint Vitus’ dance. I got aboard all right, though, and brought my paper-basket with me, without spilling more than a reasonable amount of its contents. And then I looked back, and saw things happening.
“Now, while I was standing by the track, waiting for the Pullman to get within boarding distance, I’d heard, above the roar of the train, a perfect pandemonium of other sounds. But I hadn’t had the nerve to look behind me, because I knew that I’d have to make pretty close connections with my handrail, when it came along. I was painfully aware that I should have a narrow squeak in getting away; for the distance from the club was so short that Tileson stood a very brilliant show of covering it before the train could gather headway enough to save me from being run down. And, if it hadn’t been for a providential miracle, I’m inclined to think that I should have had to pay for that dinner, after all. But the miracle got there just in the nick of time.
“It seems that it’s the custom of the one policeman on night duty in that town to go to the station to meet all trains, whereby he keeps himself awake and exercises a sort of general supervision over the in-comings and out-goings of the populace. Well, as the train left the station, the policeman sauntered out upon the main street, just in time to see coming tearing towards him a wild man in indecent garments, followed by a mob of panting pursuers. Naturally enough he saw before him the chance of a lifetime; and so he pulled himself into shape, tackled Tileson, and down they went in a wild snarl of arms and legs and bad language. And that’s what I saw as I stood there on the rear platform; for it was a bright, moonlight night, and everything was as plain as print. The show didn’t last long for me, though, because the train was humming along on a straight stretch of track, and in a little while the smoke and dust streamed out in its wake, like a curtain falling on the last act of a tragedy. Did I laugh? Did I? I did—until I came perilously near rolling off the car! I kept my wits about me, though, and religiously dealt out torn paper, every twenty yards, until it was all gone. I didn’t forget that I’d made a solemn agreement to leave behind me a plain and continuous trail.
“At the rate at which we were spinning along it didn’t take a great while to exhaust my supply of ‘scent.’ When the last of it was gone, I kicked the basket overboard, and went inside the car. And there I found my luggage waiting me, and a berth all engaged; for my man from the hotel had followed his orders to the letter.
“Now, I’d like to ask you if that wasn’t quite an event in amateur athletics? I hold that the cross-country championship belongs to The Third; and I also claim that I scored on Tileson and his suit of many colors.” On which points the sentiment of the meeting seemed to be with Woodleigh.
A day or two afterwards one of us happened to run across Whateley. “That man Woodleigh, of yours, is a corker!” said he. “After I left the ball, the other night, I went up to that club where The Fourth’s fellows hang out. Got there just after Woodleigh had gone sailing off in a chariot of fire, like old what’s-his-name. Well, it was worth a four-cornered gold brick to hear ’em rubbing it into Tileson! Did you know he came within an inch of being pulled in for assaulting a constable? Oh, he’ll never hear the last of it! I’d like to go you five that he sends in his papers before next camp. Old Woodleigh didn’t cut a very wide swath at the dance, though. Did he tell you about it? He was paired off with a little, stumpy, freckle-faced girl, and had to tramp nine laps ’round the hall with her in the ‘Grand March,’ so called. Perhaps he wasn’t the picture of misery! He and Tileson escaped, right after the march; sneaked for the club before the music struck up for the first waltz. Really, you fellows ought to send somebody else besides Woodleigh to represent you on occasions of that sort. He doesn’t do his duty.”