Although seventeen is young for such responsibilities as Sam's, it is disgracefully old to have the mumps—or so Sam thought, and he persisted in declaring that he hadn't, while his cheeks swelled4 and swelled, until his watery5 smarting eyes were almost concealed6; and he was extremely cross when little Ajax assured him that if he felt just as if he were not Sam at all, that was the mumps, because that was the way he felt when he had 'em. Mary Jane, who attended to the family grammar, was somewhat troubled because they all spoke7 of the disease as plural8; but Phineas stoutly10 maintained that this was proper when you had 'em on both sides at once, like Sam.
He hadn't the mumps, and if he had, he was going to his work at the station that night; that was what Sam insisted, although Mary Jane begged him not to with tears in her eyes, and threatened to tell their mother, from whom they carefully kept every worrying thing, because she was a helpless invalid11. It was only at the last moment, when he found that things began to whirl around him and his knees to shake, when he tried to get to the door, that Sam gave up, and said he supposed Phineas would have to go in his place.
"It is so fortunate," said Mary Jane, "that Phineas knows how."
"But he's such a sleepy-head. I ought to have asked the company to appoint a substitute. It's irregular, anyway, and if anything should happen—!" groaned12 Sam.
He was one who felt his responsibilities, and mumps are not conducive14 to cheerful views. As for Phineas, he felt that at last the boy and the opportunity had met. Phineas had been repressed—kept in the background all too long, in his own opinion, first by the supposed superior "smartness" of Sam, and second by the continual tutelage of his twin sister Mary Jane. Her whole attention seemed to be given to the subject of what a boy ought not to do; after a time this becomes wearing upon the boy. Perhaps Mary Jane had come to assume this unpleasant superiority because a heavy twin-sisterly duty constantly devolved upon her—keeping Phineas awake; in the history class, in the long prayer, when Uncle Samuel came, periodically, to give them good advice, Mary Jane found it always necessary to keep her eye on Phineas and the sharpest elbow in Orinoco in readiness.
At first Mary Jane had said that he ought not to learn telegraphy, because he could not keep awake; but when he persisted, she came to share his optimistic belief that it would keep him awake. But perhaps Sam's groan13 was not without its excuse; certainly no one disputed that Phineas was "a sleepy-head."
"I tell you it's hard for even an old stager to keep awake all night long"—Sam had been an operator for two months—"even when he's had some sleep in the daytime, as you haven't. It won't do for you to sit down at all, you know; or if you get all tired out walking round, sit on the tall three-legged stool out in the middle of the floor; if you get to nodding, that will tip over. I've fallen asleep once or twice, but it has waked me when my office has been called on the wire. It wouldn't wake you!"
"It won't have a chance, because I sha'n't be asleep," said Phineas, stoutly.
"Your eyesight is good, isn't it, Phin?"
"Well, I rather guess!" said Phineas, indignantly.
"You have to swing a red or a white lantern. I shall be glad when we have the semaphore signals on our road." (Sam's easy use of learned technical expressions always caused Mary Jane's mouth to open wide with admiration16.) "I say, Phin, what color are Mary Jane's mittens17?" Sam asked this question with sudden breathless eagerness. "A new operator, who was color-blind, wrecked18 the Northern Express on the L—— road!"
"Red," said Phineas, with scornful promptness, and was then forced to pass an examination in all the colors of Mary Jane's hooked rug.
"And if there's anything you don't understand, you can ask Lon Brophy in the ticket-office." Sam fell back on the lounge, with a long sigh, as he gave Phineas this parting assurance.
But Mary Jane ran out to the gate after him. "Don't[Pg 343] sit down even on the three-legged stool. It might go over and you wouldn't wake. Think of the boy that stood on the burning deck, or the one that let the fox gnaw19 him, whenever you feel sleepy." Along with this stern advice Mary Jane forced upon Phineas a dainty lunch that she had prepared, and a can of coffee, which he could heat upon the station stove.
After all, Mary Jane was a good sister, and perhaps she did not deserve that Phineas should mutter, as he walked along, that it was a mistake for a girl to think herself so smart.
As Phin walked toward the station in the bracing20 air of the November night, he was hotly resentful of the distrust that had been shown of his ability to take Sam's place for just one night.
The station at Orinoco Junction was a lively place when Phineas relieved Tom Woolley, the day operator, at six o'clock. At that time many trains stopped, and they were crowded, because there was a great political gathering21 at L——, twenty miles farther on. The little restaurant was filled with a jostling crowd. The sharp cries of the popcorn22 boys mingled23 with political announcements and a running fire of boasts and jokes.
Tom Woolley took down his overcoat from its nail with a sigh of relief.
"They've kept me at it all day," he said.
"It's going to quiet down by-and-by. Can you keep awake all night—a youngster like you?"
It seemed as if Mary Jane must have been telling; she always did talk and talk—a worse fault than being a little sleepy, if she had only known it, thought Phin. Tom Woolley was nineteen, and had an incipient25 mustache; he twirled its imaginary ends as he looked Phin over; and Phin's blood boiled.
"Oh, well, sonny, don't fire up," said Tom, easily; "but you'd better look sharp, you know," he added, with a grave nod. "There are a couple of extra trains expected, and the president of the road is likely to be on board of one of them; lives up at Ganges, you know—going home to vote."
Phin muttered that he guessed he could take care of extra trains, whether there were presidents on board or not, and when Tom Woolley had taken himself off, his courage rose, and he felt himself master of the situation.
By seven o'clock there came a lull26; when the nine-o'clock bell rang from the Baptist church steeple you would have thought all Orinoco had gone to sleep. There were no trains between half past eight and ten. Nine o'clock was Phin's bedtime; it's queer, but almost anywhere, unless it's the night before the Fourth of July, a boy feels his bedtime; besides, the room was close, and the clock ticked monotonously27. Phin heated his coffee and ate his luncheon28; he wasn't hungry, but it was necessary to do something to shake off drowsiness29. There was chicken, and Nep crunched30 the bones and barked for a cooky; after that he scratched the door and whined31 so that Phin was forced to let him out; he thought the dog only wanted to stretch his legs and breathe a little fresh air, but Nep walked deliberately32 homeward, and refused to be whistled back. Nep disliked irregular proceedings33, and knew the comfort of one's own bed at night.
"Of course I don't really need him to keep me awake," Phin said to himself; but nevertheless his heart sank; he began to have a suspicion that nights were long.
He pulled himself together and began to walk the floor; when he grew so tired that he ached he drew the three-legged stool out into the middle of the floor and perched himself upon it.
Suddenly—it seemed only a moment after he had brought out that stool—he found himself in the office with his hand on the key; there had been a call on his office; he had been asleep, and had been wakened by it, as Sam boasted that he had been! A fellow might allow himself to drowse a little when he could wake like that.
No, the Punjaub express had not passed; that was what they wanted to know at Cowaree and all along the line. Presently uncomplimentary epithets34 began to be hurled35 at him over the wire. Sam had complained that the fellow at Cowaree had "the big head," but—the Punjaub express had passed, so they said!
He must have slept very soundly; the three-legged stool was tipped over; he remembered vaguely36 that he had picked himself off the floor to answer that call.
Drops of perspiration37 stood upon Phin's forehead when he returned to the waiting-room after that Cowaree fellow and the others had exhausted38 their eloquence39.
He began a weary march around the room; it would not do to sit down again, even upon the three-legged stool. Did any one ever know, who had not tried it, what a terrible job it was to keep awake all night?
Another call! An order from the despatches to hold No. 39 express for orders, and run downward trains against it. That was a responsibility, for failure might involve serious accidents. There was no danger that he would fall asleep now!
And yet, after a long hour had dragged by, there was a heaviness upon his limbs, an oppression upon his brain. He forced himself to walk, but he remembered that he had read that sentries40 sometimes walked while fast asleep. Something must be done, and Phineas forced his wits to work; they were the wits that had floored the schoolmaster and helped to invent the skunk-trap.
He twined some cotton twine41 across the track at such a height that the train would break it. He fastened it to the platform railing, then drew it through the key-hole of the door; he tied a piece of zinc42 upon the end, and his coffee-can and the poker43, and all these articles he placed upon the top of the stove. There were two trains to pass before the No. 39 express; there would certainly be a clatter44 that would awaken45 him to report the first one.
He lay down upon the lounge; he was conscious of a blissful, irresistible46 fall into a gulf47 of sleep, and then— There was no clatter, but a wild scream of pain and fright from the track. Phin sprang to his feet, his heart beating wildly; he had slept, and the accident he had dreaded48 had come! He rushed to the track. A man was scrambling49 to his feet, begging for mercy, and piteously demanding a temperance pledge; it was old Hosea Giddings, of Crow Hill, who never missed a night at the Junction saloon. He had tripped upon the string and broken it. It was evident that no train had passed, and Phin felt a thrill of relief. He stood back and let the old man scramble50 up unaided; it was well that he should find snares51 for his feet in the neighborhood of the saloon.
It grew still again, deadly still, after Hosea Giddings and his vows52 were out of hearing, and Phin felt that sleep was again settling down upon him. He found a ball of very stout9 linen53 twine—that was not a bad scheme if the string were strong enough; but this time he tied the end to his own wrist. A pull upon that would be more certain to awaken him than any noise. Two trains before the No. 39 express; after they had passed, a string would not serve, for that must be stopped with the red lantern.
He lay down again upon the lounge; the last thing that he remembered was feeling for the string about his wrist, to be sure that it was tight.
He was hurled violently across the floor; he felt an almost unendurable pain; there was a crash, as if heaven and earth came together, and then—was it a long time or only a moment afterwards that he saw Mary Jane's face bending over him? She had put water upon his face, and something redder than water was trickling54 from his wrist.
That twine had been strong enough to drag him, and it had cut his wrist almost to the bone; his head had hit the stove, and all those things that he had forgotten to take off it had come down and hit him.
"I had such a bad dream I just got up and came! I couldn't help it," he heard Mary Jane say.
It all seemed to him like a bad dream; but he heard himself say eagerly, although it sounded to him like a far-away voice, "No. 39 express, stop it! stop it!"
There was in the distance the thunder of a train. Mary Jane seized the red lantern from its nail and rushed out.
[Pg 344]
Though he was still half stupefied, Phin staggered to his feet and made his way to the door; in the moonlight he could see the flutter of Mary Jane's plaid shawl as she stood on the track.
The train slowed up, and came to a stop only a few feet from the plaid shawl.
The conductor demanded an explanation in an excited voice; the engineer and the brakeman were complaining in strong language that the train was behind time, and shouldn't have been stopped unless for a matter of life and death.
Phin had made his way to the track, although he was faint and dizzy; but his voice failed him when he tried to speak, for he realized in a flash that it was the Ganges branch train that Mary Jane had stopped!
The conductor and the engineer and the brakeman and several train-boys and passengers expressed in chorus a strong though condensed opinion of the Orinoco station, and of telegraph operators who fell asleep and left girls to manage affairs. Perhaps it was as well for Phin's feelings that he could not stop to hear it all; there was a call on his office, and he hurried as well as he could to the instrument.
"Stop Ganges branch; tunnel bridge broken!" That was the message.
Phin seized the red lantern, which Mary Jane still held, as she sat, mortified56 and miserable57, upon the door-step, and rushed up the track. The Ganges train had only just started on again, but there was evidently a distrust of Phin's red lantern; by the hootings with which it was greeted, Phin judged that they thought it a bad joke or another mistake. They seemed to mean to run him down. Well, then, they might!
Phin set his teeth, held the lantern aloft, and stood as if he were rooted to the track. He made ready to spring for the cow-catcher; it actually grazed him as he stood before the train stopped.
"Tunnel bridge broken!" he screamed, hoarsely58, as he had been screaming incessantly59 above the rushing of the train and the din15 of angry voices; but it was mechanically now, and they had to carry him back to Mary Jane. His wrist had been bleeding all the time; the right wrist, too, that swung the lantern; and his head was badly hurt; and—well, it is no disgrace for a boy to faint sometimes.
"THERE WAS AN OLD GENTLEMAN WITH A FUR COLLAR TURNED UP TO HIS EARS WHO MADE FRIENDS WITH MARY JANE."
The passengers poured into the station; there was a great chorus of thanksgiving, and they made what Phin called a great fuss over him and Mary Jane. There was an old gentleman with a fur collar turned up to his ears, who made friends with Mary Jane. He seemed to feel deeply what a narrow escape the train had had, and he sharply rebuked60 the conductor when he said that the night was so light that they might have seen that the bridge was broken; he "did keep an eye on that bridge as soon as the frost came, because it was old." (It proved to have been a gang of discharged workmen who had wrecked the bridge.) The old man declared it a providential mistake that had stopped the wrong train and let the message arrive in time.
When they were relieved, in the early morning, after all the Ganges passengers had gone on by such conveyances61 as they could find, Phin and Mary Jane walked homeward together.
"You needn't say a word to Sam," warned Phin. "It would only worry him. I mean about stopping the wrong train, and all that. I've just heard that the old gentleman who talked to you was the president of the road. I hope you didn't tell him anything!"
The president of the road! Phin turned and looked with severe suspicion at Mary Jane, and Mary Jane turned so pale that the freckles62 stood out like little mud spatters on her face.
"I only told him how anxious Sam was," she faltered, "and what you did to keep awake—all about the zinc and poker and things, and how your wrist was cut."
"You've told the president of the road that I'm a sleepy-head! Now I hope you're satisfied!"
That was, I fear, an unhappy day for Mary Jane; but the next night, when Phin went down to help Sam, who would go, although he was not much better, Tom Woolley reported that he had received a message from that Cowaree fellow, the same one who was so uncomplimentary, that orders had been received from headquarters that a place was to be found, the very first desirable vacancy63, for "a plucky64, wide-awake fellow" who had substituted the night before in the Orinoco office. And a free pass had been ordered for Miss Mary Jane Dusenberry, with the compliments of her friend the president of the road.
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1
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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mumps
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| n.腮腺炎 | |
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grumblingly
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| 喃喃报怨着，发牢骚着 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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5
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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7
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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8
plural
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| n.复数；复数形式；adj.复数的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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12
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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13
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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14
conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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popcorn
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| n.爆米花 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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30
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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31
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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epithets
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| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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35
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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41
twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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42
zinc
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| n.锌；vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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43
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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44
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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45
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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46
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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47
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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48
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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49
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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50
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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51
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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53
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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54
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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55
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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56
mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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57
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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58
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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59
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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60
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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62
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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63
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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