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Chapter XIV · G.T.T., or The Wonderful Adventures of a Pullman

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  Chapter fourteen of GTT or The Wonderful Adventures of a Pullman by Edward Hale.
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  This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter fourteen. In all narratives
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  of adventure, there is at the crisis one satisfaction for the reader, viz.
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  That he can judge, by the mere number of pages between him and
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  the end of the book, whether there be anything more to tell whether a
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  given earthquake engulfed all the persons of whom the book has treated, or only
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  half of them, or possibly only one quarter, may be roughly determined by
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  the rule of three. And thus most skillful readers are aware that in the
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  real tug and throw of a book, when the alert is pinched hardest in
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  the flow, or when nineteen lions with mouths open, arranged in a circle
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  round Captain Cummings and his two discouraged naked Nungzat guides, most readers, I
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  say, are aware that to themselves about one quarter of this book is yet
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  unread. Therefore about one quarter of the people in it still live. To
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  persons who begin at the last chapter and read backwards, this calculation is unnecessary.
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  But their system is so destructive, so injurious to all effects, whether
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  of poetical justice as wrought out in nature and in fact, or of the
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  deftly devised plot, even of the most skillful novelist, that it is justly
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  condemned in all courts of literary justice, where authors are the arbiters. The
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  true formula has has been said for discovering the exact annihilating power of any earthquake,
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  epidemic, harikari, rise of a tidal wave, undrained village street,
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  collision of trains, or as in our little book, an attack. Lack
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  of banditti will be found in the following equation X equals ncs PC over P,
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  where x represents the number of survivors after the crisis, c the whole
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  number of characters, P the number of pages read, and n the number
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  of pages. In all It is only when Messrs Longman or me Roberts pad
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  the end of the book with thick advertising sheets that the average reader is misled
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  by this formula. And this custom is so annoying that in Simaris and in
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  the Young Companion's country, the custom of utopia is still maintained, where by
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  statute publishers were compelled to put the advertising sheets at the beginning of the volume.
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  In the case of the little adventure with which our last chapter closed,
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  the purposes of the melodrama would have been better accomplished had the brigands succeeded in
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  rifling the purses of the ladies and taking their watches. In very fact,
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  only ten days before, two men on the same road took nine watches from
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  nine stage travelers, two of whom were officers in the United States Army,
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  and about ten days after a similar event took place on the southern road to
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  San Antonio. If at that point Fred Haydock and mister Hiram Brinkerhoff had started
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  out from a thicket, had killed two banditti with revolvers and slain two by
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  the edge of the sword, escaping themselves miraculously with only a slight flesh wound
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  in Fred Haydock's left arm, which Hester herself were permitted to bandage, this
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  little story would have had just the element of romance, which alas it has
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  not, and these remaining pages would have had just enough blood of Arnica and
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  of the extract of Homomilus to give them interest in the eyes of the general
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  reader. But really this was not what happened. So soon as Duston saw
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  the white horse pass him, he knew the game was up. He sulkily
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  drew up his own beasts and even swore at them because they did not stop
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  as sharply as he wished them to. The other rider on a bay horse,
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  speckled with the frothing of his own running, passed on the other side.
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  The two girls sat back in the ambulance with no feeling of terror.
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  Now Effie was conscious of the simple feeling of amusement, and Hester's was crude
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  curiosity. What would happen next? What happened was that the bay horse was
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  checked most easily and his rider turned him. It was Hiram Brinkerhoff who said,
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  I hope we did not frighten you. And then as he saw that
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  the party had been frightened, he was abject and eager in his mortified apologies.
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  But really the young men were not so much to blame. They had
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  arrived in Austin only that morning. All their time there was spent in tracing
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  the ladies, and they had been on one or two false trails. They
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  had known nothing of mail robbers, and where both of them soothed to say
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  so ignorant of Texas and its customs, that they thought of such things as
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  little as they would have done in East Orange or in North New Milan.
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  As they dashed after the ambulance, they were only afraid that some drunken driver
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  had these two ladies in his care. Poor Tom Duston, no Lily,
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  no Emma. The measurement of the Town and Country series as pitiless is remorseless.
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  There was no space wasted in these pages on what Fred Haydock did or
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  did not say to the two ladies as he walked by the side of the
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  carriage, while his horse followed meekly, and the cortege went down to tremlets
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  for of course, with Hiram Brinkerhoff was Fred Haydock. Of course, the
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  one had seen his correspondents in New Orleans, in Baton Rouge, in Nekeatush,
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  and had then hurried to Austin to meet his appointment with Fred. Of
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  course, the other had wound up all the government business in Saint August and
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  had hurried by Galveston to Austin to meet his appointment with Hiram Hester Sutfinn had
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  unfortunately missed the telegram which begged her to wait till they came. So was
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  it that, while the girls going out from Austin were fording the Colorado,
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  the two gentlemen were entering Austin in seats six and seven of the Golconda.
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  Then, as has been said, they were on a false trail at first.
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  None the less, they did mount themselves well at Austin and went in
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  pursuit, with what fatal success the reader has seen. The ladies were forgiving,
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  more forgiving, perhaps than the gentleman deserved. With much laughter, the
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  watches were disinterred from the bags of corn. On a sober walk. All
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  the steeds came up to Tremblets. The people of Tremblets were amazed to see
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  Tom Dunston's team come in in such a lather. But their curiosity was not
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  appeased at first, and the young ladies were at once received in the simple
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  kindness of the hospitality of a wayside inn in Texas, to the cold water
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  and other refreshment which should restore them from the terrors of the last hurried mile.
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  In the gallery hung a pail of water, because in a country where
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  ice is unknown in May, the best chances for keeping water cool come by
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  maintaining for it a study of aporation on every side. The gentlemen dipped from
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  the pail and made their ablutions. There. Hiram even had a chance to
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  open his ready sketch book and by one or two tints to give some of
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  the effects of the sunset. When they were all summoned together to supper,
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  they found that they were not the only travelers. From one and another point,
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  different people assembled, and it proved that an extra stage had put up
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  for the night, and that some wayfarers in pursuit of lost horses were here.
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  The meal was served in a rough l behind the house, and the
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  several guests, some in their shirt sleeves, some in more full costume,
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  gathered silently at the long table. No one spoke, and in a moment
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  the reason was apparent, as Tremlet, the innkeeper at the head of the
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  board, bowed and in simple language asked a blessing. Talk about godless Texas,
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  said Hiram afterwards, as he and Fred went to look after their horse's
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  cheer. It is the only region where I have ever traveled where an innkeeper
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  asks a blessing before his guests fall to a beautiful moon had come up while
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  they were at supper. The air was clear, as in a winter night
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  in New England. The ladies sat a little while on the gallery, but
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  then owned they were tired and bad good night led away under Missus Tremblet's watchful
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  care to see what manner of contrivances Missus Tremblet's beds might be. As the
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  good Lady lightened her dip, she turned kindly to Hester and said, inquiringly,
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  you're from the East, my dear Hester said she was from Chicago,
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  continued Missus Tremblet. Oh farther than Chicago, said Hester, laughing from New
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  York, Oh farther than New York. I am from Boston. From Boston,
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  be you, said the good lady, indeed surprised. Then you speak
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  French, and so the mystery of Hester's and Effie's bad English and foreign accent
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  were accounted for. This was not the only time in Texas when they found
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  that their beloved hub of the universe was rated as in a foreign land.
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  Meanwhile, on the gallery gathered the different men folk, travelers, or of
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  the household, and as the number became too many for the chairs, one
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  and another threw himself on the ground in front, basking, so to speak,
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  in the full light of the good natured moon in my country, said
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  Hiram, I should hardly dare to sit out in the evening air as we
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  are sitting now, though it were the middle of August, and this is
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  only the first day of May. One of the young Texans replied that there
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  had not been five nights since New Year when he would not willingly have slept
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  on the ground there wrapped in a blanket. So little risk was there from
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  the dews. No dews and no rain, said Hiram, Then what is
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  it which keeps the prairies green? But this was what no one could well
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  tell. They said it was three months since there had been any rainfall of
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  consequence. Indeed, they said their springs were low and their crops suffering.
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  Yet as the travelers had seen, the prairies were as green as a mowing
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  lot in Massachusetts would be a month later in the year. All that anybody
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  could say was that the roots of the prairie grass were very long. This
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  mesquite grass, for instance, which is such a blessing to man and beast,
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  throws down its roots three feet below the surface, and then in the
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  midst of this geoponic lore, a long wagon drove by with extemporized seats for
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  eight or ten people, and they sang as they rode. Nobody knows the
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  trouble I've had. Nobody knows, but Jesus. Nobody knows the trouble I've
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  had. Glor rehighlelu I felt the burden of deadly sin. Oh yes Lord.
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  He opened his door and he let me in. Oh yes Lord.
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  They are going home from the camp meeting at the corners, said Tremblett in
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  explanation. One and another of the singers waved a hand as they went by,
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  but the carriage did not stop. As it receded upon the prairie.
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  Successive verses of the song could be heard less and less distinct as the distance
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  increased. Nobody knows the trouble I've had. Nobody knows, but Jesus.
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  Nobody knows the trouble I've had. Glory Rehigh Lilu. I fell on the
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  ground and I kissed his feet. Oh yes, Lord, and he lifted
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  me up with his smiles so sweet, Oh yes Lord. Nobody knows the
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  trouble I've had. Nobody knows, but Jesus nobody knows the trouble I've had,
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  Glory High Lou I took his hand and I held it fast. Oh
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  yes, Lord, and I will hold it to the last. Oh yes,
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  Lord, nobody knows the trouble I've had. Nobody knows, but Jesus
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  nobody knows the trouble I've had. Glory harle Loo. I took his crown
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  when his temples bled. Oh yes, Lord, for I heard the gracious
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  words he said, Oh yes, Lord, nobody knows the trouble I've had.
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  Nobody knows, but Jesus nobody knows the trouble I've had, Glory harlelu
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  Oh, take my burden and bear my yoke. O yes Lord, These
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  were the gracious words he spoke, Oh yes Lord. After this it was
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  impossible to follow the verses. The young gentleman took the long as a consecration
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  of tonight and broke up the little bivouac to try the comforts hardly so attractive
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  of Missus Tremblet's bedrooms. End of chapter fourteen.