Making Over Martha 22

Making Over Martha 22

They sped into Burbank under all the power Sam dared put on.

 

"Thank God!" sobbed Ellen Hinckley.

 

But when they reached the station, no train was in sight, the place was

virtually deserted.

 

Sam drew up beside the platform and, for a moment sat quite still,

evidently cogitating.

 

"No such thing! The train ain’t gone!" said Martha, as if he had

maintained it had. "It’s only five minutes to one."

 

"It might have been ahead of time."

 

"Did you ever know one was?" inquired his wife.

 

He got out and made his way to the waiting-room. A moment and he was

back.

 

"There’s been delays back along the road. The train’s two hours late.

It won’t be here till three, or after."

 

"Well, what do you think o’ that!" said Martha.

 

The next instant she was dragging Ellen Hinckley into the waiting-room,

through it, and on into the telegraph-operator’s booth.

 

"Say, young fella," she addressed him bluntly, "this party here’s in

danger of her life. Me an’ my husban’ is gettin’ her out o’ harm’s way,

which he’s hot on our track. He’ll be along any minute. Think o’ your

mother, if you ever had one. An if not, think o’ some other female o’

the same sect, only younger. Lend a hand, anyhow, to help us out, will

you?"

 

The youth eyed Mrs. Slawson dubiously.

 

"How do I know——?" he began objecting.

 

"You don’t. But, by the time I get through with you, you will. Only

this ain’t the _time_, see? Come now, step lively, like they say in New

York. Put this party away, out o’ sight. No matter how crampin’ the

place. An’ be quick about it!"

 

The young man gazed about his booth helplessly, shook his head, then got

upon his feet. He drew a key from his pocket, as if acting under

hypnotic suggestion.

 

"I’m taking your word for it," he grumbled. "If it gets me into

trouble——"

 

"_I’ll_ get you out," answered Martha confidently.

 

Without further ado he led them through the waiting-room, unlocked the

baggage-room door and, in the semi-darkness, he and Martha walled their

captive in behind a barricade of freight and baggage.

 

"Try to be contented till train-time," Mrs. Slawson admonished Ellen.

"Don’t you be scared. We won’t forget you, nor we won’t let your

stepfather get you, ’less it’s over this young-man-here’s dead body

an’——"

 

"Oh, I say!" objected the telegraph-operator plaintively.

 

Martha shook her head at him. "I only wanted to cheer her up," she

whispered, as they passed out into the waiting-room, he locking the door

behind them.

 

Sam came forward to meet her.

 

"I guess we had our scare for nothing," he observed. "If that’d been

Buller behind us, he’d have got here before now."

 

"Not if he’d had tire-troubles. But prob’ly you’re right," said Martha.

 

Sam considered. "Then what’s the use of keeping the poor girl hid?"

 

"It won’t hurt her. An’ a ounce o’ pervention is worth a pound o’

cure."

 

Later the telegraph-operator took the trouble to shove up his window and

address Martha through it. His tone was loftily supercilious,

ironically facetious.

 

"Nothing doing! You’ve been stringing me, I guess!" he sagely opined.

 

Mrs. Slawson regarded him blandly.

 

"Certaintly. My husban’ an’ me, we come twenty-five miles streakin’

through the night on purpose to do it. Such a precious jewel of a fella

as you, anybody’d want to string’m, for safe-keepin’, so’s he wouldn’t

fall down an’ roll away an’ be lost in a crack o’ the floor."

 

The telegraph-operator grimaced.

 

"Say, now, no joke! You said you’d tell me the whole story, so I’d know

what I was in for. I ain’t hankering to be called down by the Company

for outdoing my duty."

 

Mrs. Slawson smoothed her dress over her knees. "Come an’ sit on my lap,

sonny-boy, an’ I’ll tell you all about it. Only bein’ so young, an’

havin’ such a tender conscience with you, it might keep you awake in

your crib nights. Did you ever see weels, as thick as my thumb, on the

white skin of a young girl’s shoulders? Well, I could turn back the

waist o’ that one in there, an’ show you such. Raised by the

leather-belt o’ her mother’s second husban’, which they’re perfect

ladies an’ gen’lmen, o’ course, bless their hearts. They will be after

her like mad, when they know she’s given’m the slip. Good lan’! If

young fellas was reely young fellas nowadays, you’d be glad of the

chancet to pour some o’ the Widow Cruse’s oil on a poor ill-used child’s

troubled waters. An’ not be thinkin’ o’ yourself all the time—if it’d

harm _you_ to help her, or if the Comp’ny would objec’."

 

The youth regarded her with level eyes.

 

"You can count on me," he said. "I’m with you in this, no matter what."

 

"Good bey!" said Martha.

 

The hours dragged wearily along. One by one disappointed travelers who

had strayed off to kill time at the hotel, returned to meet their

delayed train.

 

Martha had advance information concerning its coming, the lad at the

wire furnishing it gratuitously.

 

"It’ll be along now in five minutes," he said, "and I’ve put the

baggage-man wise, so he’s ready to help you get her off, as fine as

silk, even if——"

 

Just then Martha saw Sam approaching. Though his step and manner were,

to all outward appearances as usual, she instantly knew something was

amiss.

 

"What is it?" she asked calmly.

 

"He’s come. Him and Harding are here. They haven’t seen me nor the car

yet. I put that beyond, under a shed, where it wouldn’t be conspicuous.

But we can’t dodge them long, and——"

 

"This way, ma’am!" summoned the baggage-man, touching Martha’s elbow.

"I got the young lady ready for you—and the train’s coming."

 

"Take care of yourself, Sam," Martha cautioned him, following her

leader.

 

The train thundered up. Before it had fairly come to a halt, Buller

sighted Sam. He made a rush toward him, brandishing a menacing arm.

 

"Keep cool," advised Sam. "And keep off!"

 

"You’ve got the girl!" Buller roared. "We know you have, from them as

saw you coming over here, three in the car. Where is she?"

 

"Find her," said Sam.

 

Buller turned to Harding. "_You_ handle him, Joe. I’ll tackle the

woman."

 

Martha stood at the baggage-room door, as Buller came pounding down the

platform.

 

"Hand over that girl!" He spoke with sinister calmness.

 

"Certaintly," said Martha. "That’s just what I’m waitin’ to do."

 

The engine whistled. Buller started toward Martha, getting in the way

of the baggage-man, who was pushing a loaded hand-truck before him. His

elbow sent Buller reeling. In that instant, through a maze, Buller saw

Martha lift what had looked like a piece of burlap-covered baggage from

the truck, and toss it, with sure aim, to the brakeman on the platform

of the slow-moving car. The brakeman caught it deftly, and set it on

its feet. The train slid past.

 

"Ellen!" Buller cried. Then, turning on Martha, "You—devil!"

 

Mrs. Slawson bowed civilly. "Same to you, sir."

 

"I’ll—I’ll do you up yet. You’re not done with me, not by a long shot."

 

"I haven’t a doubt o’ it. I’m ready for you, any time. Likewise

_Mister_ Slawson. Only, I advise you, take it out on me. My husband

might hurt you too much, if he got goin’."

 

As they were driving home through the waning light, Sam told Martha he

faintly remembered hearing Ellen’s knock on the door—"only he was too

tired to get up."

 

"You were smart to hear it through your own snores," she returned

pleasantly. "But when we get home, you must turn in, an’ take a real sleep. I’ll wake you when Buller comes."