“—and remember,” Eddie was wailing, “how terribly dangerous it is to put off the hour of salvation! ‘Watch therefore for you know not what hour your Lord doth come,’ it says. Suppose this train were wrecked! Tonight!”
The train ungraciously took that second to lurch on a curve.
“You see? Where would you spend Eternity, Hell-cat? Do you think that any sportin’ round is fun enough to burn in hell for?”
“Oh, cut it out. I know all that stuff. There’s a lot of arguments— You wait’ll I get Jim to tell you what Bob Ingersoll said about hell!”
“Yes! Sure! And you remember that on his death-bed Ingersoll called his son to him and repented and begged his son to hurry and be saved and burn all his wicked writings!”
“Well— Thunder— I don’t feel like talking religion tonight. Cut it out.”
But Eddie did feel like talking religion, very much so. He waved his Bible enthusiastically and found ever so many uncomfortable texts. Elmer listened as little as possible, but he was too feeble to make threats.
It was a golden relief when the train bumped to a stop at Gritzmacher Springs. The station was a greasy wooden box, the platform was thick with slush, under the kerosene lights. But Jim was awaiting him, a refuge from confusing theological questions, and with a furious “G’night!” to Eddie he staggered off.
“Why didn’t you make him shut his trap?” demanded Jim.
“I did! Whadja take a sneak for? I told him to shut up and he shut up and I snoozed all the way back and— Ow! My head! Don’t walk so fast!”