"And—when will the next train come through?" he asked, striving to speak calmly.
"The next train? That'll be a freight. It's due now from Morgan City. But you won't go on that?"
"Why?" questioned Jimmy, grasping at straws.
"Two reasons. One that she doesn't carry passengers, and the other that she doesn't stop here at all. Just whistles up there by the tank, and goes lobbin' along on her way."
"But—but couldn't you stop her in case of emergency?" asked Jimmy, feeling like a petitioner.
"Only thing I could stop her for would be on an order from the train despatcher," said the agent, with a grin of sympathy. "I'm not the owner of the line, you know. They don't thank me for stoppin' heavy freights on an upgrade such as they have to climb to get through here, just to ask 'em how the weather is where they come from, or what time it is, or to send a message to the engineer's beautiful daughter. Guess you'll have to wait for Number Sixteen, Mister, or, if you're in too big a hurry, hoof it. It's only eighteen miles to the next stop. Sorry!"
And then he yawned as if bored, and deliberately resumed his interrupted reading. Jimmy realized that he was knocking on the locked and unbending doors of an inexorable fate, and backed out. He went outside and hailed his rescuer, who had found a piece of gum that he was extricating from some wrappings that indicated a rather dirty pocket.
"Son, my brave youth, how far, I beseech thee, is it to the nearest town from here?" Jimmy asked.
"On a railroad?" queried the boy, biting off the tip end of the stick of gum and testing its flavor.
"Of course. What good is a town that's not on the railroad?"