"James. For Chrissake. James." She took her mouth away from his ear. This time she pinched the naked bloodstained arm as hard as she could and at last Bond's eyes opened between their puffed1 lids and he looked up at her from the wooden floor and gave a shuddering2 sigh.
She tugged3 at him, terrified that he would slip away from her again. He seemed to understand and he rolled over and struggled on to hands and knees, his head hanging down towards the ground like a wounded animal.
"Can you walk?"
"Wait." The thick whisper coming through the cracked lips sounded strange to him. Perhaps she hadn't understood. "Wait," he said again, and his mind started exploring his body to see what was left of it. He could feel his feet and his hands. He could move his head from side to side. He could see the bars of moonlight on the floor. He had been able to hear her. It ought to be all right, but he just didn't want to move. His will-power had gone. He just wanted to sleep. Or even to die. Anything to lessen4 the pain that was in him and all over him, stabbing, hammering, grinding him-and to kill the memory of the four boots thudding into him, and the grunts5 coming from the two hooded6 figures.
Directly he thought of the two men and of Mr Spang, the will to live came into Bond in a flood and he said "Okay". And then again "Okay" so that she would be sure to understand.
"We're in the waiting room," whispered the girl. "We must get to the end of the station. Left, outside the door. Do you hear me, James?" She reached out and brushed the damp, sticky hair away from his forehead.
"Have to crawl," said Bond. "Follow you."
The girl got to her feet and pushed open the door. Bond gritted7 his teeth and crawled out on to the moonlit platform and when he saw the dark patch on the ground, rage and revenge gave him strength and he got clumsily to his feet, shaking his head to keep the red-black waves from drowning him and, with Tiffany Case's arm round him, he limped along the wooden boards to where they sloped down towards the ground beside the gleaming rails.
And there, in the single-line siding, was a railroad handcar.
Bond stopped and gazed at it. "Petrol?" he said vaguely8.
Tiffany Case gestured towards a row of cans against the station wall. "Just filled her up," she whispered back. "It's what they use for inspecting the line. And I can work it. And I shifted the points. Hurry. Get aboard," she giggled9 breathlessly. "Next stop Rhyolite."
"My God, you're a girl," whispered Bond. "But there'll be a hell of a noise when we start that thing. Wait. Got an idea. Got some matches?" Half his pain had fallen away from him. The breath came fast through his teeth as he turned away from her and focused on the silent, tinder-dry buildings.
She was wearing slacks and a shirt. She dug into the pocket of the slacks and handed him her lighter10. "What's the idea?" she said. "We oughta be moving."
But Bond lurched over to the row of petrol tins and started opening them and hurling12 the contents over the wooden walls and platform. When he had emptied half a dozen cans he went back to her. "Get her going." He bent13 agonizingly down and picked up a crumpled14 newspaper from beside the rails. There was the angry whine15 of the self-starter and then the little two-stroke engine caught and started hammering busily.
Bond flicked16 the lighter. The piece of paper flared17 and he flung it away from him amongst the petrol cans. The whoosh18 of flame almost caught him as he threw himself backwards19 on to the little platform of the car. But then the girl let in the clutch and the handcar started down the line.
There was a rattle20 and a sickening lurch11 at the points and then they were out on the main line and the speedometer was trembling at thirty and the girl's hair was flowing back like a golden banner towards him.
Bond turned and looked back at the great bloom of fame they had left behind them. He could almost hear the dry boards crackling and the shouts of the sleepers22 as they dashed from their rooms. If only it would get Wint and Kidd and catch the paint on the Pullman and fire the wood in the tender of The Cannon-ball and finish off the gangster's box of toys!
But he and the' girl had their own problems. What time was it? Bond gulped23 down the cool night air and tried to get his mind to work again. The moon was low. Four o'clock? Bond hunched24 his way painfully up the platform to the two bucket seats and somehow scrambled26 over and got down beside the girl.
He put an arm round her shoulders, and she turned and smiled into his eyes. She raised her voice above the noise of the engine and the hammer of the iron wheels on the rails. "That was quite an exit. Like something out of an old Buster Keaton film. How d'you feel?" She surveyed the battered27 face. "You look terrible."
"Nothing broken," said Bond. "Suppose that's what's meant by an eighty percenter." He grinned painfully. "It's better being kicked than being shot."
The girl's face cringed. "I just had to sit there and pretend that I didn't care. Spang stayed and listened and watched me. Then they checked up on the ropes and slung28 you into the waiting room and everyone went happily to bed. I waited an hour in my room and then I got busy. The worst part was trying to wake you up."
Bond tightened29 his arm round her shoulders. "I'll tell you what I think of you when it doesn't hurt so much. But what about you, Tiffany? You'll be in a jam if they catch up with us. And who are those two men in the hoods30, Wint and Kidd? What are they going to do about all this? I wouldn't mind seeing a little more of those two."
The girl glanced sideways at the grim curl of the bruised31 lips. "Never seen them without those hoods on," she said truthfully. "They're supposed to be from Detroit. Strictly32 bad news. They do the strongarm work and special undercover jobs. They'll all be after us now. But don't you worry about me." She looked up at him again and her eyes were shining and happy. "First thing is to get this crate33 to Rhyolite. Then we'll have to find a car somewhere and get over the state border into California. I've got plenty of money. Then we'll get you to a doctor and buy you a bath and a shirt and think again. I got your gun. One of the help brought it over when they'd finished picking up the pieces of those two guys you wrassled with in the Pink Garter. I collected it after Spang had gone to bed." She unbuttoned her shirt and dug into the waistband of her slacks.
Bond took the Beretta, feeling the warmth of her on the metal. He flicked out the magazine. Three rounds left. And one in the breach34. He replaced the magazine, put the gun on safe and tucked it into the top of his trousers. For the first time he realized that his coat was gone. One of his shirt sleeves hung in tatters. He tore it off and threw it away. He felt for the cigarette case in his right-hand hip35 pocket. It was gone. But in the left-hand pocket there was still his passport and note-case. He pulled them out. By the light of the moon he could see that they were cracked arid36 dented37. He felt for his money in the note-case. It was still there. He put the things back in his pocket.
For a while they drove on with only the purr of the little engine and the clickety-click of the wheels to break the looming38 silence of the night. For as far as they could see, the thin silver line of the rails spun39 on towards the horizon with only an occasional break, marked by a points lever, where a rusty40 branch line curved off into the dark mass of the Spectre Mountains on their right. To their left, there was nothing except the endless floor of the desert on which the hint of dawn was beginning to edge the writhing41 cactus42 clumps43 with blue, and, two miles away, the gun-metal shimmer44 of the moon on Highway 95.
The handcar sang happily on down the rails. There were no controls to bother with except a brake lever and a kind of joystick with a twist-grip accelerator which the girl held fully25 open with the speedometer steady at thirty. And the miles and the minutes clicked by, and every now and then Bond turned painfully in his seat and inspected the blossoming red glow in the sky behind them.
They had been going nearly an hour when a thin humming undertone in the air or on the rails made Bond stiffen45. Again he looked back over his shoulder. Was there a tiny glow-worm glimmer46 between them and the false red dawn of the burning ghost town?
Bond's scalp tingled47. "D'you see anything back there?"
She turned her head. Then, without replying, she slowed the engine down so that they were coasting quietly.
They both listened. Yes. It was in the rails. A soft quivering, not more than a distant sigh.
"It's The Cannonball," said Tiffany flatly. She gave a sharp twist to the accelerator and the handcar sped on again.
"What can she do?" asked Bond.
"Maybe sixty."
"How far to Rhyolite?"
"Around thirty."
Bond worked on the figures for a moment in silence. "It's going to be a near thing. Can't tell how far away he is. Can you get anything more out of this?"
"Not a scrap," she said grimly. "Even if my name was Casey Jones instead of Case."
"We'll be all right," said Bond. "You keep her rolling. Maybe he'll blow up or something."
"Oh, sure," she said. "Or maybe the spring'll run down and he's left the key of his engine at 'home in his pants pocket."
For fifteen minutes they sped along in silence and now Bond could clearly see the great pilot-light of the engine cutting through the night, not more than five miles away, and an angry fountain above it from the woodsparks flaming out of the great dome21 of the smoke-stack. The rails were trembling beneath them and what had been a distant sigh was a low threatening murmur48.
Perhaps he'll run out of wood, thought Bond. On an impulse he said casually49 to the girl, "I suppose we're all right for gas?"
"Oh, sure," said Tiffany. "Put in a whole can. There's no indicator50, but these things'll run for ever on a gallon of gas."
Almost before the words were out of her mouth, and as if to comment on them, the little engine gave a deprecating cough. 'Put. Put-put.' Then it ran merrily on.
"Christ," said Tiffany. "D'you hear that?"
Bond said nothing. He felt the palms of his hands go wet.
And again. 'Put. Put-put."
Tiffany Case gingerly nursed the accelerator.
"Oh, dear little engine," she said plaintively51. "Beautiful, clever little engine. Please be kind."
'Put-put. Put-put. Hiss52. Put. Hiss…' And suddenly they were free-wheeling along in silence. Twenty-five, said the speedometer. Twenty… fifteen… ten… five. A last savage53 twist at the accelerator and a kick from Tiffany Case at the engine-housing and they had stopped.
"--" said Bond, once. He got painfully out on to the side of the track and limped to the petrol tank at the rear, pulling his bloodstained handkerchief out of his trouser pocket. He unscrewed the filler cap and lowered the handkerchief down so that it must reach the bottom of the tank. He pulled it out and felt it and sniffed54 it. Dry as a bone.
"That's that," he said to the girl. "Now just let's think hard." He looked all round. No cover to the left, and two miles at least to the road. On the right the mountains, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. They might get there and hide up. But for how long? It looked the best chance. The ground beneath his feet was shaking. He looked down the line at the glaring, implacable eye. How far? Two miles? Would Spang see the handcar in time? Would he be able to stop? Might he be derailed? But then Bond remembered the great jutting55 cow-catcher that would sweep the light car out of the way like a bale of straw.
"Come on, Tiffany," he called. "We've got to take to the hills."
Where was she? He limped round the car. She was running back down the track in front. She came up panting. "There's a branch line just ahead," she gasped56. "If we can push the thing there and you can work the old points, he might miss us."
"My God," said Bond slowly. Then, with awe57 in his voice. "There's something better than that. Give me a hand," and he bent down and gritted his teeth against the pain and started pushing.
Once started, the car moved easily and they only had to follow behind it and keep it rolling. They came to the points and Bond went on pushing until they were twenty yards past.
"What the hell?" panted Tiffany.
"Come on," said Bond, half stumbling, half running back to where the rusty switch stuck up beside the rails. "We're going to put The Cannoriball on to the branch line."
"Oh, boy!" said Tiffany Case reverently58. And then they were both at the switch and Bond's bruised muscles were cracking as he heaved.
Slowly the rusty metal shifted in the bed where it had lain unmoved for fifty years, and millimetre by millimetre the rails showed a crack and then a widening gap as Bond strained and jerked at the lever.
And then it was done and Bond knelt on the ground with his head down, fighting the dizziness that threatened to drown him.
But then there was a glare of light on the ground and Tiffany tugged at him and he was on his feet again and stumbling back to the car and the whole air was full of thunder and the doleful clanging of the warning bell as the great flaming iron beast came roaring towards them.
"Get down and don't move," shouted Bond above the noise, and he thrust her to the ground behind the flimsy shelter of the handcar. Then he limped quickly to the side of the track and drew his gun and stood sideways on with his pistol arm up like a duellist59 and squinted60 back up the track into the great on-rushing eye below the volcano of swirling61 fire and smoke.
God, what a monster. Could it possibly take the curve? Wouldn't it just hurtle on into them and smash them to pulp62?
On it came.
'Phut.' Something whipped into the ground beside him and there was a pinpoint63 flash from the cabin.
'B-o-i-n-g-g-g.' There was another flash and the bullet hit the rail and whined64 off into the night.
'Crack. Crack. Crack.' Now he could hear the gun above the rear of the engine. Something sang sharply in his ear.
Bond held his fire. Only four bullets and he knew when they would go.
And then, twenty yards away, the flying engine thundered into the curve and took the siding with a lurch that sent logs hurtling towards Bond off the top of the tender.
There was a shrill65 scream o? metal as the flanges66 on the six-feet-tall driving wheels ground into the bend, a swift impression of smoke and flame and pounding machinery67, and then a glimpse into the cabin and of the black-and-silver figure of Spang, spreadeagled, clinging to the side of the cabin with one hand and with the other hand outflung to the long iron handle of the throttle68 lever.
Bond's gun shouted its four words. There was a lightning impression of a white face jerked up towards the sky and then the great black-and-gold engine was past and hurtling towards the shadowy wall of the Spectre Mountains, the beam of its pilot-light scything69 at the darkness ahead and its automatic warning-bell clanging sadly on, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.
Bond slowly tucked the Beretta into his trousers and stood looking after the coffin70 of Mr Spang, and the trail of smoke drifted over his head and for a moment put out the moon.
Tiffany Case came running to him and they stood side by side and watched the flaming banner from the tall smoke-stack and listened to the mountains throw back the echo of the charging locomotive. The girl clutched his arm as the engine gave a sudden swerve71 and vanished behind a spur of rock. And now there was only a faraway drumming in the mountains and a red glow that flickered72 off the crags as The Cannonball tore on down the cutting into the belly73 of the rock.
And suddenly there was a great tongue of fire and a terrible iron crash as if a battleship had run on a reef. And then a muffled74 clanging that seemed to come from under their feet. And, finally, a deep distant boom from the bowels75 of the earth and a barrage76 of miscellaneous echoes.
And then, with the noise gone, a steady, singing silence.
Bond heaved a deep sigh as if he was just waking up. So that was the end of one of the Spangs, of one of the brutal77, theatrical78, overblown dead-end adults who made up the Spangled Mob. He had been a stage-gangster, surrounded with stage properties, but that didn't alter the fact that he had intended to kill Bond.
"Let's get away from here," Tiffany Case said urgently. "I've had enough of this."
Bond felt the pain creeping back into his body as his tension relaxed. "Yes," he said shortly. He was glad to turn his back on the memory of the up-turned white face in the beautiful black, charging engine. He felt light-headed. He wondered if he would make it, "We'll have to get to the road. It'll be hard going. Come on."
It took them an hour and a. half to cover the two miles and, by the time he collapsed79 in the dirt beside the cement highway, Bond was delirious80. It was the girl who had got him there. But for her he would never have kept a straight course. He would have stumbled about amongst the cactus and rock and mica81 until his strength was exhausted82 and the broiling83 sun came to finish the job.
And now she was cradling his head against her and talking softly to him and wiping the sweat off his face with the corner of her shirt.
And every now and then she paused to look up and down the dead-straight concrete road whose horizons were already shimmering84 in the heat waves of early morning.
An hour later she jumped to her feet and tucked in her shirt and went and stood in the middle of the road. A low black car was coming out of the dancing haze85 which hid the distant valley of Las Vegas.
It rolled to a stop just in front of her and a hawk-like face under an untidy mop of straw-coloured hair stuck itself out of the window. Keen grey eyes briefly86 looked her over, They glanced at the prostrate87 figure of the man in the dust beside the road and came back to her.
Then, in a friendly Texan drawl, the driver said, "Felix Leiter, Mam. At your service. And what may I do for you on this beautiful morning?"
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1
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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3
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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7
gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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8
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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11
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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12
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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13
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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whoosh
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| v.飞快地移动，呼 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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23
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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24
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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28
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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34
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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37
dented
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| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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38
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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39
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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40
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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41
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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43
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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44
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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45
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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46
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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47
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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indicator
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| n.指标；指示物，指示者；指示器 | |
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plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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duellist
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| n.决斗者；[体]重剑运动员 | |
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squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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pinpoint
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| vt.准确地确定；用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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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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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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flanges
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| n.（机械等的）凸缘，（火车的）轮缘( flange的名词复数 ) | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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scything
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| v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的现在分词 ) | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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mica
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| n.云母 | |
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82
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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83
broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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84
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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