Drawing his revolver, he started toward the cars as fast as his legs would carry him. As he drew nearer, the screams increased in shrillness5 and agony, and it required no little will-power on the part of the watchman to keep his legs moving in the right direction. The thought flashed through his brain that a man was being slowly torn to pieces by some ferocious6 wild beast, but just as he turned the end of the row of cars, he saw a sudden burst of flame from one of them, and a blazing figure pitched out headlong to the ground—a figure which, with a sudden sense of sickness, the watchman recognized as a human being.
Blowing a shrill blast on his whistle, and pulling off his overcoat as he ran, he hastened forward. In a moment he was beside the moaning, struggling, blackened figure, and threw his overcoat over it, his heart faint within him, smothering7 the flames and beating at them with his gloves. Another watchman, summoned by the whistle, ran up at that moment.
“What’s the trouble?”
“Man burned t’ death,” panted the other.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know; but he’s done for, whoever he is. You ought to heard him screamin’!”
They worked together feverishly8 for a moment longer, and beat out the last of the flames, but it was evident that the unfortunate man at their feet was far past human aid. He was still moaning and jerking convulsively, but was mercifully unconscious and would no doubt remain so to the end.
“We’ve got t’ git away from here, an’ that mighty10 quick,” said one of the men, with a glance at the seething11 inferno12 beside them. “That car’s loaded with oil, an’ it’s goin’ to blow up in about a minute.”
“How’re we goin’ to carry him?”
“Roll him on my overcoat—we can carry him that way.”
But the first watchman, with an exclamation14 of impatience15, spread his overcoat beside the blackened body and rolled it over with his foot.
“Now, take a hold of that end,” he said, “an’ git a move on.”
They gathered up the burden gingerly, and started away at a trot—not a moment too soon, for they had gone scarcely a hundred feet, when the car exploded with a mighty roar. Blazing oil was hurled16 over everything in the neighbourhood, and instantly a dozen cars were afire—the flames roaring and crackling furiously before the wind.
Stanley, awakened17 by the arrival of a crew from an incoming train and the departure of another to take its place, lay for a while looking down the room and watching the new arrivals prepare for bed. He was a restless man and light sleeper18 at the best, and he devoutly19 hoped that the strike was nearing an end. The strain was beginning to tell on his nerves, never any too steady, and he longed for his comfortable and quiet bed. The air in the freight-house had become fetid from the exhalations of fifty men, not over dainty in their personal habits, and with a sudden sense of disgust, Stanley threw back the covers and sat up in bed.
As he did so, it seemed to him that he heard a faint knocking at the wall underneath20 him. He listened a moment, but it was not repeated, and he decided21 it was merely the vibration22 from a passing engine. But he was burdened with a queer feeling of suffocation23, and slipping into his clothes, he went out to the platform for a breath of fresh air.
He was worried. He knew, somehow, that, during his absence in pursuit and prosecution24 of the robbers, he had lost his grip of the situation.
It had got, in some subtle way, beyond his control, and he felt the necessity of being “on the job” at every hour of the day and night. It was as though he were shadowed by some impending25 calamity26, which he could not avoid.
He heard steps approaching along the platform and in a moment the freight-house watchman emerged from the darkness.
“Everything quiet?” Stanley asked.
“Everything but the wind,” answered the watchman, laughing at his own joke, and passed on his way.
“Blamed fool!” Stanley muttered to himself, for the jest and the laugh jarred on him. “I’m gettin’ as nervous as a cat,” he added, and walked slowly down the platform, trying to shake off the feeling of depression.
Another thing disturbed him. The tough-looking strangers whom he had observed loitering about the depot-saloons for several days past, had suddenly disappeared. He had made discreet27 inquiries28, but no one seemed to know who they were or what had become of them. Where had they gone, he asked himself; where were they at this moment? He had heard some vague rumours29 of the row at the brotherhood30 meeting, and he could imagine Bassett’s rage and chagrin31. He had always connected the strangers with Bassett, in some indefinite way, and a little shiver shook him at the thought that perhaps Bassett had taken them with him to execute some fiendish project. Perhaps—
The piercing note of a watchman’s whistle shrilled32 through the night, and Stanley, waking from this reverie with a start, saw a sudden burst of flame from the cars just before him, and realized that the crisis he had vaguely33 expected was at hand. And the realization34 made his nerves taut35 and his head clear. Not even his worst enemies had ever accused Stanley of cowardice36 in the face of danger.
“Call the fire department and the police and get out all our men!” he shouted to the freight-house watchman, who had just come into view again, and started with a jump toward the fire, which was growing brighter every instant.
But suddenly he checked himself and swerved37 in his course, for from beneath the platform almost at his feet, he saw a dim form emerge and slink away through the darkness.
“HE HEARD THE BULLETS SING PAST HIS HEAD.”
Stanley was off the platform and after him in an instant.
“Halt!” he shouted, drawing his revolver. “Halt, or I fire!”
And, as if in answer, phitt! phitt! came two flashes of flame out of the darkness ahead, and he heard the bullets sing past his head.
“Take it, then!” he said, between his teeth, and fired at the legs of the figure ahead.
The figure ran on, and Stanley raised his hand to fire again; but in a moment he saw that this would not be necessary, for the fugitive38 was no match for him in speed and he gained upon him rapidly. Apparently39, the stranger perceived the folly40 of flight, at last, for he stopped, one hand against his side, and waited for his pursuer to overtake him. He had not long to wait, for in an instant Stanley’s heavy hand fell upon his shoulder.
“drop that revolver!” said the detective, and knocked it with a quick blow from his prisoner’s hand.
“Oh, it’s jammed,” said the other, with a little bitter laugh. “If it hadn’t been fer that, I’d ’a’ got you!”
“What’s your game?” Stanley demanded, and swung his prisoner around so that he could see his face. “Why,” he cried, chuckling41 with satisfaction, “if it ain’t our old friend Hummel! This certainly is a pleasant meeting. Welcome to our city!”
Hummel’s face was livid and his blackened and swollen42 lips were drawn43 away from his teeth in an ugly snarl44.
“Don’t be too gay!” he said, thickly. “Don’t be too gay! Mebbe you’ll be laughin’ on the other side of your face afore long!”
“Well, one couldn’t tell which side you’re laughin’ on,” retorted Stanley, “fer the dirt. Been livin’ with your friends the hogs45?”
“Never you mind!” said Hummel, still more thickly, and reeled a little and put his hands to his head. “Never you mind!”
“Why, I believe the man’s drunk!” said Stanley. “Come on back with me, my friend, an’ I’ll send you up-town in style, behind two horses, with a gong ringin’ in front. Come on,” and he started to lead his prisoner back toward the freight-house.
But Hummel developed a sudden limpness and sat down suddenly upon the pavement.
Stanley waved his hand toward the growing conflagration47, which, at that instant, burst, with a mighty report, into a fountain of flame.
“For that,” he said, sternly. “Come along, or I’ll find a way to make you!”
“I didn’t do that,” protested Hummel, staring toward the fire, as though conscious of it for the first time. “That must ’a’ been—”
“Who?” asked Stanley, as Hummel suddenly checked himself.
Stanley, his patience exhausted49, jerked the little man to his feet and struck him over the head with his revolver.
“Come on,” he said savagely50, “I ain’t got no time to waste on you! Step lively, or I’ll put you to sleep.”
Away in the distance, he could hear the growing rattle51 of the engine gongs and knew, with a breath of relief, that the fire department was at hand. He knew something else, too—that within a very few minutes, a great mob would be upon the scene, which it would take the hardest kind of work to control. The windows in the neighbourhood had been thrown up at sound of the explosion—he could hear the hum of voices, the cries of alarm. He had no time to fool with a reluctant prisoner, and he jerked him again to his feet.
“Will you come?” he demanded.
“No,” answered Hummel, his face yellow with terror, struggling desperately52 to free himself.
Then Stanley lost his temper and raised his arm to strike.
But even as he did so, a mighty roar seemed to rend53 the firmament54 above him, the earth rocked, and a blinding flame leapt upwards55 towards the heavens. There was an instant’s appalling56 silence, and then came the sound of crashing walls, the rending57 of timbers—and again all was still.
Only for a breath—then the night was filled with yells and groans58 and curses. And the whole neighbourhood, wakened by the roar, leaped from bed and rushed out into the streets, white-lipped and trembling.
Allan West, having slept the greater part of the day and evening, found himself restless and wakeful as the night progressed, and at last lay staring up into the darkness above him, meditating59 with smiling lips, on the events of the day. That this great happiness should have come to him seemed almost past believing—he had done so little to deserve it, had escaped so narrowly a nearly fatal blunder.
He cast his mind back over the years he had spent with the Welshes, remembering how he had seen Mamie grow from a child of eight, through all the stages of girlhood, to the radiant young womanhood she had attained60; he had seen her sweetness of disposition61 tested scores of times; he knew how true and honest and loving she was, and he could not but wonder at his own blindness, at his tardy62 awakening63 to his love for her. Most wonderful of all it seemed that she should care for him, that she—
The window rattled64 suddenly and sharply, the house seemed to quiver, as though struck by some giant hand, and almost instantly there came a deep, jarring roar. A moment later, Allan heard the distant ringing of the fire alarm, heard excited footsteps along the street, and groped blindly along the floor for the board to which his instrument was attached.
He found it at last, seized it, pulled it up, and began calling the dispatchers’ office. Fully9 a minute passed before the answer came, and he knew that the dispatcher had not been at his key.
“This is West,” he clicked. “Any trouble up there?”
“Trouble!” flashed back the answer, in a staccato which told how excited the sender was. “I should say so! All the cars in the yards are afire and the freight-house is blown up!”
Allan gently replaced the instrument on the floor and slid out of bed. He groped his way to the closet, got out his clothes and slipped into them as quietly as he could. Shirt and coat gave him some trouble, but he managed to get them on, gritting65 his teeth at the pain the movement cost him. Then, without collar or tie, which he knew were beyond him, even if he had cared to linger for such trifles, he took his shoes in his hand, opened his door softly, and started down the stairs, hoping that he might get away unseen.
But before he was half way down, he heard light steps behind him and a low voice.
“Allan!” it called.
He turned as Mamie came flying down to him, visible only as a dim shape in the darkness.
“You’re not going out!” she protested, her hands upon his shoulders.
“I must,” he said, bending and kissing her. “The strikers have fired the yards and blown up the freight-house. I’ve got to go.”
“But you’re not able!”
“Oh, yes, I am,” he contradicted lightly, but he was grateful for the darkness which hid his face from her anxious eyes.
“And there’ll probably be more trouble.”
“All the more reason I should be there. You wouldn’t have me be a coward, Mamie!”
It was the one appeal to touch her, and he knew it.
“No,” she said, “I wouldn’t have you be a coward. Go if you must; but, oh, Allan dear, be careful of yourself for my sake!”
“I will,” he promised and kissed her again, as she went with him down the stairs. “I’ve got to put on my shoes,” he added. “I thought maybe I could get away and be back and in bed again without anyone knowing.”
“Let me put them on,” she said quickly. “You can never manage it. You know, in the old days, the ladies used to buckle66 on the armour67 of their knights,” and she took the shoes from him, pressed him into a chair and knelt before him.
He could feel the head lift proudly.
“Nor any lady a braver knight,” she said.
“‘I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more!’”
Allan hummed. “But what an imagination you’ve got, Mamie!”
“Yes—you know I’m Irish.”
“And what a warm, loyal heart!”
“That’s Irish, too, isn’t it? And there the armour’s on!” she added, rising. “And now your overcoat, for it’s bitter cold, and this muffler around your neck,” and she tucked the ends in under his coat. “There,” she concluded, buttoning the last button, and raised herself on tip-toe and kissed him. “Good-bye, Allan, and come back to me.”
“Good-bye, Mamie; never fear,” and he was off and away.
And Mamie, drawing closer about her the shawl she had thrown on when she slipped out of bed, hurried up the stairs and knocked at the door of the room where her parents slept. It was in the back wing of the house, farthest from the street, which accounted for the fact that they had not been awakened by the hurrying feet and excited talk of the ever-increasing crowd running toward the fire. But Mamie’s knock awakened Mary on the instant.
“What is it?” she called.
“It’s Mamie—the strikers have set the yards on fire and blown up the freight-house—and Allan’s gone!”
“Gone!” echoed Mary, and sprang out of bed. “Jack70!” she cried. “Wake up!” and she repeated to him what Mamie had just told her.
Jack, with never a word, was out of bed and into his clothes, while his wife, with trembling fingers, lighted a lamp and opened the door for Mamie.
“How do you know he’s gone?” demanded Mary. “Did you see him?”
“Yes,” said the girl, her white face and trembling lips telling of her struggle for self-control.
“And you let him go?”
“He had to go—it was his place to go.”
“She’s right, mother,” broke in Jack. “He had to go. I’m proud of the boy. An’ I’ll see no harm comes to him.”
“Thank you, dad,” said Mamie, simply, and kissed him. “You’ll telephone as soon as the danger’s over?”
“Yes,” Jack promised; “an’ don’t be worried.”
They heard the front door slam after him, and the house was still.
“I’m going to get dressed,” said Mamie; “then—then if anything happens, we’ll be ready.”
She stole away to her room, but she did not proceed immediately to dress. Instead, she slipped down beside her bed and threw her arms forward across it and buried her face in them—and when, five minutes later, she arose, it was with a countenance71 pale, indeed, but serene72 and almost smiling.
She found her mother awaiting her in the dining-room, and they sat down together and—waited. There is no harder task, and as the weary minutes dragged along, they dared not look at each other, lest their self-control slip from them. So half an hour passed, until Mrs. Welsh could stand it no longer.
“I’m going to git some news,” she said, and went to the telephone, but central could tell her little more than she already knew, for everything was confusion as yet at the scene of the outrage73. The dispatchers’ office was busy and refused to answer any call. So Mary hung up the receiver again and came back to Mamie. “I’ll try again after a while,” she said, and again they nerved themselves to wait.
But not for long.
For suddenly, the telephone rang sharply.
“I’ll go,” said Mary, and Mamie sat where she was, clutching blindly at her chair, biting her lips until the blood came.
“He’s not hurt!” she said, over and over to herself. “He’s not hurt! He’s not hurt! It can’t be! It sha’n’t be! He’s not hurt!”
“Is that you, Mary?” asked Jack’s voice.
“Yes; what’s the matter?—your voice don’t sound natural.”
“Where to?”
“To Chestnut’s drugstore. I can’t tell you, Mary, but fer God’s sake, come quick!”
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收听单词发音
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1
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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shrillness
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| 尖锐刺耳 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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8
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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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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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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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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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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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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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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41
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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45
hogs
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| n.（尤指喂肥供食用的）猪( hog的名词复数 )；（供食用的）阉公猪；彻底地做某事；自私的或贪婪的人 | |
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46
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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48
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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50
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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51
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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52
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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53
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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54
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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56
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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57
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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58
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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59
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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60
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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61
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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62
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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63
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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64
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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65
gritting
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的现在分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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66
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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67
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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68
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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69
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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71
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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72
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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73
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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74
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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