"I have not come from Minnesota direct," he explained; "I went to St. Louis to see the bridge Eads built so as I could compare the two. I takes a great interest in public works, and more 'specially engineering. Sometimes I think I'd a made a good bridge builder myself, but I served my time in a bakery, and never had no inclination for bread, 'cept to eat it." He might further have stated that being a gentleman of impecunious leisure, and time not being money with him, he had all the advantages necessary for indulging his penchant for investigating public works.
"You're near Economy now," he continued, "and you can stop over night with the 'brothers.' I'll tell you how you can do it. Old 'brother' Rapp will meet you and he'll say 'no.' Then you just ask him to give you a few matches, and when he asks what for, say it's to build a fire and cook you something to eat and sleep by, and you'll see how quick he'll ask you to come in and stop. So long." And the tourist again resumed his way toward the East River bridge. Ben and his comrade had no intention of remaining over night in Economy, however. They took supper there though, being hospitably received and treated to plenty of fresh coarse bread, cheese and smoked sausage, the latter so hard that it would have made a dent in an oak plank. Politely thanking their entertainers they resumed the track in the balmy dusk of evening, listening to Nature's vesper hymn.
Along the roadway, and from swamp and pasture and woodland, came the chorus of a million throats. The deep base of some old patriarchal serenader heightened the treble of the noisy newts. Afar off the tinkle of a cow bell floated softly over the hills; the rustling of dried leaves; the snapping of a fallen bough: the owl's whoop from out his hermit dell; the beetle's never changing drone; the call of katydid, and the mournful notes of the whip-poor-will, all mingled in the evening service; and the heart of Ben stopped to listen, and all the sophistry, cynicism and doubtings that this world possesses, could not at that moment have prevented him from thinking that this life is not the be-all and the end-all, here; but that far, far beyond the star lit girdle of earth there is another, a better, and a purer one.
CHAPTER XIV.
AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT.
The two travellers boarded a western bound freight train at Brighton. There being no accessible box car, they were compelled to content themselves with a seat on the rear steps of the caboose, where they were discovered and incontinently "bounced" after being carried some twenty miles. Ben thought this ejectment finished their ride on that train, but the Evangelist—whose name was Horton—corrected him. Creeping along in the shadow of the train until it started, they again seated themselves on the steps. This time they made but ten miles, before they were discovered, when some strong adjectives were used, and some hard names called, and they were warned if caught on the train again they would be dealt with in a most summary manner.
"Wait for another train!" exclaimed the Evangelist. "Certainly not—why we have only been bounced twice!"
He instructed Ben to crouch under the cars at the centre of the train, and when it started walk with it, so long as he could keep up. When he found the rate of speed getting too much for him, he was to mount a ladder, but not put in appearance on the roof until positive that the crew was not around.
The crew of a freight train consists of the fireman and engineer, who remain in the locomotive's cab; a conductor who, while the train is in motion, generally remains in his caboose, and two brakeman—front and rear—supposed to remain on top, but who, after the train has started, usually betake themselves to the engine-cab and caboose respectively. On the night runs all carry lanterns, and through them their approach is easily discernible by the sly tramp. It will now be understood why Ben was to delay mounting to the top.
Having clung to the ladder for some time he slowly raised his head above the roof and surveyed the situation. Not a light appeared in sight, but on the next car he saw the dark outlines of a man, and heard the Evangelist crooning to himself a revival hymn. He mounted to the roof, and both men sat down immediately over their respective ladders, ready to go down them on the slightest provocation. Much after the fashion of prairie-dogs, sitting at the mouth of their holes, prepared at the faintest disturbance to show a clean pair of heels and faint whisk of a tail. Several times during the ensuing hour the light of the front brakeman appeared as that individual attended to easing the train down grades. And each time our two travellers suddenly disappear; reappearing again when the coast was clear. Having gone about sixteen miles, the train side tracked to allow an eastern-bound express to pass. Ben and his companion crouched under the cars until they again started, when the ladders were resumed and ultimately the roof.