CHAPTER XII
THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK
The almost-married couple sat long in mutual terror and a commonparalysis of ingenuity. Marjorie, for lack of anything better to do,was absent-mindedly twisting Snoozleums's ears, while he, that pocketabridgment of a dog, in a well meaning effort to divert her from herevident grief, made a great pretence of ferocity, growling andthreatening to bite her fingers off. The new ring attracted hisspecial jealousy. He was growing discouraged at the ill-success of hisimpersonation of a wolf, and dejected at being so crassly ignored,when he suddenly became, in his turn, a center of interest.
Marjorie was awakened from her trance of inanition by the porter'svoice. His plantation voice was ordinarily as thick and sweet as hisown New Orleans sorghum, but now it had a bitterness that curdled theblood:
"'Scuse me, but how did you-all git that theah dog in this heah cah?"
"Snoozleums is always with me," said Marjorie briskly, as if thatsettled it, and turned for confirmation to the dog himself, "aren'tyou, Snoozleums?"
"Well," the porter drawled, trying to be gracious with his greatpower, "the rules don't 'low no live stock in the sleepin' cars,'ceptin' humans."
Marjorie rewarded his condescension with a blunt: "Snoozleums is morehuman than you are."
"I p'sume he is," the porter admitted, "but he can't make up berths.Anyway, the rules says dogs goes with the baggage."
Marjorie swept rules aside with a defiant: "I don't care. I won't beseparated from my Snoozleums."
She looked to Mallory for support, but he was too sorely troubled withgreater anxieties to be capable of any action.
The porter tried persuasion: "You betta lemme take him, the conductais wuss'n what I am. He th'owed a couple of dogs out the window tripbefo' last."
"The brute!"
"Oh, yassum, he is a regulah brute. He just loves to hear 'm sploshwhen they light."
Noting the shiver that shook the girl, the porter offered a bit ofconsolation:
"Better lemme have the pore little thing up in the baggage cah. He'llbe in charge of a lovely baggage-smasher."
"Are you sure he's a nice man?"
"Oh, yassum, he's death on trunks, but he's a natural born angel todogs."
"Well, if I must, I must," she sobbed. "Poor little Snoozleums! Can hecome back and see me to-morrow?" Marjorie's tears were splashing onthe puzzled dog, who nestled close, with a foreboding of disaster.
"I reckon p'haps you'd better visit him."
"Poor dear little Snoozleums--good night, my little darling. Poorlittle child--it's the first night he's slept all by his 'ittlelonesome, and----"
The porter was growing desperate. He clapped his hands togetherimpatiently and urged: "I think I hear that conducta comin'."
The ruse succeeded. Marjorie fairly forced the dog on him."Quick--hide him--hurry!" she gasped, and sank on the seat completelycrushed. "I'll be so lonesome without Snoozleums."
Mallory felt called upon to remind her of his presence. "I--I'm here,Marjorie." She looked at him just once--at him, the source of all hertroubles--buried her head in her arms, and resumed her grief. Mallorystared at her helplessly, then rose and bent over to whisper:
"I'm going to look through the train."
"Oh, don't leave me," she pleaded, clinging to him with a dependencethat restored his respect.
"I must find a clergyman," he whispered. "I'll be back the minute Ifind one, and I'll bring him with me."
MARJORIE FAIRLY FORCED THE DOG ON HIM....]
The porter thought he wanted the dog back, and quickened his pacetill he reached the corridor, where Mallory overtook him and asked, inan effort at casual indifference, if he had seen anything of aclergyman on board.
"Ain't seen nothin' that even looks like one," said the porter. Thenhe hastened ahead to the baggage car with the squirming Snoozleums,while Mallory followed slowly, going from seat to seat and car to car,subjecting all the males to an inspection that rendered some of themindignant, others of them uneasy.
If dear old Doctor Temple could only have known what Mallory washunting, he would have snatched off the mask, and thrown aside thesecular scarlet tie at all costs. But poor Mallory, unable torecognize a clergyman so dyed-in-the-wool as Doctor Temple, sitting inthe very next seat--how could he be expected to pick out another inthe long and crowded train?
All clergymen look alike when they are in convention assembled, butsprinkled through a crowd they are not so easily distinguished.
In the sleeping car bound for Portland, Mallory picked one man as aclergyman. He had a lean, ascetic face, solemn eyes, and he wastalking to his seat-mate in an oratorical manner. Mallory bent downand tapped the man's shoulder.
The effect was surprising. The man jumped as if he were stabbed, andturned a pale, frightened face on Mallory, who murmured:
"Excuse me, do you happen to be a clergyman?"
A look of relief stole over the man's features, followed closely by ascowl of wounded vanity:
"No, damn you, I don't happen to be a parson. I have chosen tobe--well, if you had watched the billboards in Chicago during our run,you would not need to ask who I am!"
Mallory mumbled an apology and hurried on, just overhearing hisvictim's sigh:
"Such is fame!"
He saw two or three other clerical persons in that car, but feared totouch their shoulders. One man in the last seat held him specially,and he hid in the turn of the corridor, in the hope of eavesdroppingsome clue. This man was bent and scholastic of appearance, and woreheavy spectacles and a heavy beard, which Mallory took for a guarantythat he was not another actor. And he was reading what appeared to beprinter's proofs. Mallory felt certain that they were a volume ofsermons. He lingered timorously in the environs for some time beforethe man spoke at all to the dreary-looking woman at his side. Then thestranger spoke. And this is what he said and read:
"I fancy this will make the bigots sit up and take notice, mother: 'Ifthere ever was a person named Moses, it is certain, from the writingsascribed to him, that he disbelieved the Egyptian theory of a lifeafter death, and combated it as a heathenish superstition. The Judaicidea of a future existence was undoubtedly acquired from theAssyrians, during the captivity.'"
He doubtless read much more, but Mallory fled to the next car. Therehe found a man in a frock coat talking solemnly to another of equalsolemnity. The seat next them was unoccupied, and Mallory dropped intoit, perking his ears backward for news.
"Was you ever in Moline?" one voice asked.
"Was I?" the other muttered. "Wasn't I run out of there by one of myaudiences. I was givin' hypnotic demonstrations, and I had a run-inwith one of my 'horses,' and he done me dirt. Right in the midst ofone of his cataleptic trances, he got down from the chairs where I hadstretched him out and hollered: 'He's a bum faker, gents, and owes metwo weeks' pay.' Thank Gawd, there was a back door openin' on a darkalley leadin' to the switch yard. I caught a caboose just as a freighttrain was pullin' out."
Mallory could hardly get strength to rise and continue his search. Onhis way forward he met the conductor, crossing a vestibule betweencars. A happy thought occurred to Mallory. He said:
"Excuse me, but have you any preachers on board?"
"None so far."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"How can you tell?"
"Well, if a grown man offers me a half-fare ticket, I guess that's apretty good sign, ain't it?"
Mallory guessed that it was, and turned back, hopeless and helpless.
Excuse Me! Page 13
