Adventure, February 1917 — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

128 in his strange absorption he seemed scarcely aware of the officials about him who in a few minutes had finished their investigations within the office. The inwardly fuming superintendent had been regarding McNeal sharply. “Let me have the freight-house key!” snapped Kane as he perceived the others waiting expectantly. “Yes sir,’”’ said McNeal simply, handing it over. The party filed out and into the freight, house just behind the depot. In a minute _ or two Kane returned, alone, bringing the key. The general excellence of things as he found them appeared but to increase his irascibility; probably if he had found some- thing to explode about—a disorderly freight house, a littered platform or an untidy station—he would have felt better. “Don’t you know you are to be on duty at seven A.M.?” he demanded querulously. ‘“‘Not seven-five—or seven-one—but seven, sharp?” McNeal had been standing somberly at the window, looking with unseeing eyes at the special train of engine and four coaches. It was a sort of habit with him to stand there where the morning sun came in through the east window. He faced about as the official spoke. “Yessir,” stillimpassively. “I know that.” He had the air of one who debates hesitantly, and with vacant eyes fixed on the superintendent, he fumbled with a torn pocket which was hanging down, revealing a ragged rent in his coat; both knees of his trousers were smeared with mire and dirt and the soft collar of his shirt was soiled by a long, black streak as if a grimy finger had been drawn across it; and there was a raw, red bruise on his left cheek, just be- neath the eye. “T know that,’ McNeal reiterated slowly, nodding his head once or twice. “But you see, [ was unable——” He stopped abruptly, his brows con- tracted in perplexity. “Well, what’s the reason?” demanded Kane, irritably. With an effort, apparently, McNeal tried it again: . “Why—I was—detained.” Again he paused abruptly, uncertainly. “Go on, you,” spluttered the superin- tendent in exasperation. ‘‘And no cock- and-bull story, mind!’ Adventure 4 McNeal’s solemn face did not alter; only his eyes opened wide for a moment. “Why, you see, I went fishing——’”’. Once more he stopped-unhappily, as if he had not said just what he had wished. But the superintendent was pounding the desk wildly with his fist.” “Fishing!’ flamed Kane. ‘Fishing!’ His rage bubbled over. “You go fishing and keep us waiting—hold us up for five minutes!” The heinousness of it seemed to dum- found : “You ought to be fired!” he gasped, shaking his fist. “And I would—I would—” he choked,.“T’'ll suspend you-——”’ Speechless in his rage he glared at the agent. But he faced a rebellious McNeal whom the tirade appeared to have aroused. Hands clenched, angry-eyed, he faced the superintendent squarely. “But you don’t understand,” he flashed hotly. , “Understand—nothing! You'll be re- lieved tomorrow—for thirty days!’ Kane wrathfully waved him to silence as he declared his sentence. “I suppose the fishing was good!” he concluded sarcastically. For a few seconds McNeal appeared to struggle with his pride, between a desire to explain and to hold his tongue. Pride won. “Ves, it was good,” he answered quietly enough, ignoring the sarcasm. There would be no further effort at explanation from him; but his eyes still burned defiantly. He suddenly thought of something: “You can——” “Not another word! I’ve heard enough!” Through the window Kane saw the general manager and party boarding the coaches and he turned away from McNeal, hastening to join them. At the door he paused to fling back a parting injunction: “Jackson will relieve you tomorrow! Don’t forget!” The conductor came in to the window. “Clear me,” he said: ‘‘Second eighteen.” They were on very good terms, this con- ductor and McNeal; so that when McNeal silently gave him his clearance he observed confidentially to the agent: “The old man seems a little riled.” And when he went out he added, apropos of nothing: ‘‘Poor old Tom Brady!” But he did not note the sudden, deepening pallor of McNeal’s face. (€(0) ook (EO)