A Fool For Love | Page 9

when he was to be relieved.
But if Winton could have been an eavesdropper behind the door of
Superintendent Colbert's office on the second floor of the Union Depot,
his doubts would have been resolved instantly.
The telegraph operator's guess went straight to the mark. Mr. Darrah
was "raising particular sand" because his wire order for a special engine
had not been obeyed to the saving of the ultimate second of time. But
between his objurgations on that score, he was rasping out questions
designed to exhaust the chief clerk's store of information concerning
the status of affairs at the seat of war.
"Will you inform me, seh, why I wasn't wired that this beggahly appeal
was going against us?" he demanded wrathfully. "What's that you say,
seh? Don't tell me you couldn't know what the decision of the cou't was
going to be before it was handed down: that's what you-all are heah
for--to find out these things! And what is all this about Majah Eva'ts
resigning, and the Utah's sending East for a professional right-of-way
fighteh to take his place? Who is this new man? Don't know? Dammit,
seh! it's your business to know! Now when do you faveh me with my
engine?"
Thus the Rajah; and the chief clerk, himself known from end to end of
the Colorado and Grand River as a queller of men, could only point out
of the window to where the Rosemary stood engined and equipped for
the race, and say meekly: "I'm awfully sorry you've been delayed, Mr.
Darrah; very sorry, indeed. But your car is ready now. Shall I go along
to be on hand if you need me?"
"No, seh!" stormed the irate master; and the chief clerk's face became
instantly expressive of the keenest relief. "You stay right heah and see
that the wires to Qua'tz Creek are kept open--wide open, seh. And when
you get an ordeh from me--for an engine, a regiment of the National
Gyua'd, or a train-load of white elephants--you fill it. Do you
understand, seh?"

Meantime, while this scene was getting itself enacted in the
superintendent's office, a mild fire of consternation was alight in the
gathering room of the Rosemary. As we have guessed, Winton's packet
of mail was not the only one which was delivered by special
arrangement that morning to the incoming Limited at the yard
registering station. There had been another, addressed to Mr.
Somerville Darrah; and when he had opened it there had been a
volcanic explosion and a hurried dash for the telegraph office, as
recorded.
Sifted out by the Reverend Billy, and explained by him to Mrs. Carteret
and Bessie, the firing spark of the explosion appeared to be some news
of an untoward character from a place vaguely designated as "the
front."
"It seems that there is some sort of a right-of-way scrimmage going on
up in the mountains between our road and the Utah Short Line," said
the young man. "It was carried into the courts, and now it turns out that
the decision has gone against us."
"How perfectly horrid!" said Miss Bessie. "Now I suppose we shall
have to stay here indefinitely while Uncle Somerville does things." And
placid Mrs. Carteret added plaintively: "It's too bad! I think they might
let him have one little vacation in peace."
"Who talks of peace?" queried Virginia, driven in from her post of
vantage on the observation platform by the smoke from the
switching-engine. "Didn't I see Uncle Somerville charging across to the
telegraph office with war written out large in every line of him?"
"I am afraid you did," affirmed the Reverend Billy; and thereupon the
explanation was rehearsed for Virginia's benefit.
The brown eyes flashed militant sympathy.
"Oh, I wish Uncle Somerville would go to 'the front,' wherever that is,
and take us along!" she cried. "It would be ever so much better than
California."

The Reverend William laughed; and Aunt Martha put in her word of
expostulation, as in duty bound.
"Why, my dear Virginia--the idea! You don't know in the least what
you are talking about. I have been reading in the papers about these
right-of-way troubles, and they are perfectly terrible. One report said
they were arming the laboring men, and another said the militia might
have to be called out."
"Well, what of it?" said Virginia, with all the hardihood of youth and
unknowledge. "It's something like a burning building: one doesn't want
to be hard-hearted and rejoice over other people's misfortunes; but then,
if it has to burn, one would like to be there to see."
Miss Bessie put a stray lock of the flaxen hair up under its proper
comb.
"I'm sure I prefer California and the orange-groves and peace," she
asserted. "Don't you, Cousin Billy?"
What Mr. Calvert