Marion Marlowe in Columbus, or, Accused of a Crime — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MY QUEEN. 3 Hinton, candidly. “I’m just longing to hear the young ladies say breakfast. I know Miss Marlowe is cooking eggs and Miss Allyn is making coffee.” “Gee! That does sound good, now that you mention it!” said Bert, rubbing his stom- ach, “but the worst of it is we'll eat every- thing up for breakfast and there won’t be a blessed thing left for luncheon.” “And no way to get anything,” said Gray, disgustedly. “The telegraph wires are all down. Oh, we are outcasts for certain!” “Lucky we didn’t go plunk into that -hole,” said Bert, looking down into the hole in the ground at his feet. “The rails are torn up for a dozen feet, at least. Gee! What a shaking up we would have had if we had taken a header, Hinton!’’ “I wish we knew how long we’ve got to _ Stay here,” said the property man, dubiously, “There’s nothing I hate so much as a delay in traveling.” ' “Looks almost as bad as our stage did '* that last night at Cleveland, after we’d had the explosion, don’t it?’ Bert asked, sol- emnly. “Well, thank fortune, we are safe from rioters here! There is no danger of meeting enemies in this wilderness—that is one comfort!” “We're liable to meet other things that are less easily handled,” remarked Hinton, with a glance at the sky. this country a few dozen times before, and I can assure you it is not without its peculi- arities, Jackson. If I’m any judge, this storm is going to end up in a gust of rain and wind, and perhaps a cold wind at that.” “Oh, we’ve all got our mackintoshes ; and, anyway, a bath will do us good. I'd give a dollar to know if there are any fish in this brook.” Phil Gray took a sharp look at the brook that was close by on the right of the railroad track. “Tve been Over “I fancy if you followed that up a ways you'd find a fishing pool of some sort,” he said, sagely. “You may have to break through the ice, but I’m with you, Jackson, if you want to try it.” “That's a go,” returned Bert, as he started toward the car. “But what will we do for bait and tackle?” spoke up Gray, suddenly. “Oh, I have some tackle,” answered Bert, over his shpulder; “that’s what made me think of fishing. and some line in my dressing-room in Cleve- land.” “Oh, Bert! planning to do? I found a couple of hooks What in the world are you There is a look on your face that speaks of desperation!” cried a merry voice from one of the windows of the car. Bert looked up at the speaker solemnly and shook his head. “Dost see that stream yonder, fair lady?’ he asked, tragically. ‘Well, prithee, listen, and methinks you will cease all foolish bab- ble. It is in yonder stream that I would seek the luscious trout or whate’er it is inhabits those cold depths. Ha! Wilt come with me, fair maid, and lure these sly creatures from i their lair ?”’ A hideous grin distorted his handsome face as he assumed a yearning attitude before the car window, dangling the fish-line before his face. “Not on your tintype, Bert Jackson! You don't catch me wandering from this happy— and dry—home to dangers that I wot not of. But don’t let me detain you,” was the gay answer. “Tis thus she thwarts my amiable pur- pose,” mumbled the pseudo tragedian, as he shook his head and replaced his cap. “You don’t suppose Miss Ellis is so des- perate as all that, do you, Bert?” called out a laughing voice from another window. The young man looked up quickly and saw 4 (CO) EOMIIGIOOKS