"But Butsy keeps right on a-goin'."
THE BIG TRAIN
The moon had acted as a stimulant to my thoughts, and the contented munching sound as the "string" of horses consumed their hay was not sedative enough to calm my utter wide-awake-ness.
"Why have you put bars across the door of that stall?" I asked Blister Jones, trying to rouse him from his placid mood. He pulled a straw from the bale upon which we sat, before replying.
"The Big Train's in there," he said quietly.
"No; is that a fact?" I cried, as I jumped to my feet and walked to the door across which were the heavy wooden bars that had attracted my attention. Peering through these I could see nothing, nor was there any sound toward which I might have strained my eyes.
"I guess he's not at home," I said. "I can't see him."
"Stick around that door 'n' you'll see him all right!" Blister assured me. Scarcely had he finished when the straw rustled and a huge head shot forward into the planes of moonlight that slanted between the bars into the black mystery of the stall.
Never had I seen anything so malevolent as this head. Its eyes were green flame, holding the hate of hell in their depths. The mouth was open, and the great white teeth closed with a snap on one of the bars and shook it in its socket.