We pulled out our watches simultaneously.
"What time are you?" I said.
"Six minutes before six."
"And I am seven minutes. It can't take us all that time to walk to the station."
"Are you sure the train goes at 6.11?"
"Dead sure," I answered; and showed him the Indicatore.
By this time a woman and two children were shrieking at us hysterically; but what they said I had no idea, their Italian being of a strange and awful nature.
"Look here," I said, "let's run; perhaps our watches are both slow."
"Or—perhaps the time-table is changed."
Then we ran, and the populace cheered and shouted with enthusiasm; our dignified run became a panic-stricken rout, for as we turned into the lane, smoke was rising from beyond the bank that hid the railroad; a bell rang; we were so near that we could hear the interrogative Pronte? the impatient Partenza! and the definitive Andiamo! But the train was five hundred yards away, steaming towards Naples, when we plunged into the station as the clock struck six, and yelled for the station-master.