Miss Dividends Part 10

But not knowing this, Erma has a very stern look on her face a few minutes after, when she sees Harry enter the car. He makes a movement as if to approach and address her, but the young lady turns her head away with a sudden shudder.

Noting this, the Westerner leaves the car and commences to walk about the platform, chewing nervously the end of a cigar he has forgotten to light. Then, curiously enough, the girl peeps after him, and stands aghast, for there is indignation in his look as he strides about, his athletic figure well displayed by a loose shooting coat, and he tosses his brown locks back from his forehead, as if he were facing an enemy, and his dark eyes are gleaming so potently that Erma gasps, "Why, he looks like a Vigilante _now_!"

Soon the train is crowded once more, and they begin to run over the Laramie Plains, where Ferdie excites them all by seeing a buffalo, and would get his gun to shoot at it, did not Mr. Kruger remark: "The critter is nigh onto three miles off, and you will throw away your lead, sonny."

As for Captain Lawrence, he has not entered their car, and is now in a forward smoker, puffing away desperately, and thinking with some regrets of the early days of the building of the Union Pacific Railway, those times which tried men's souls; but after turning over the matter in his mind he exclaims to himself: "By Heaven! I am glad I did my duty, even if it loses me--" Here he clenches his teeth, and a little spot of blood comes upon his lip, where he has bitten it.

CHAPTER VII.

WHAT MANNER OF MAN IS THIS?

In the rear car, Miss Travenion, anxious to throw from her mind a subject that is distressing, wanders to the organ,--for this Pullman was supplied with one, as were many Western sleepers in those days,--and seating herself at the instrument, runs her hands over the keys and begins to sing. Softly at first, but afterwards made enthusiastic by melody, this young lady, who has been very well taught and has a brilliant mezzo voice, forgets all else, and warbles the beauties of Balfe, Bellini, and Donizetti in a way that draws the attention of her fellow-pa.s.sengers.

Among them is the Western Lot, who, getting near to her, watches the lithe movements and graceful poses of the girl's charming figure, and seeing her soul beaming from her glorious eyes, mutters to himself, "What an addition to our tabernacle choir after I have made her one of the elect." For this young lady's loveliness has, of late, been putting some very wild ideas into the head of this friend of her father.

She leaves the organ, and noting that Miss Travenion is somewhat alone, for the interview of the afternoon seems to have produced a slight coolness between Mr. Livingston and Erma, and perchance also Mrs.

Livingston, this Western product thinks he will devote himself to the young lady's edification during the remainder of the evening, opening his remarks by, "You're comin' to a great country, Miss Ermie."

"Ah, what is that?" asks the girl nonchalantly but politely.

"Utah," replies the enthusiastic Lot, "whar the people of Zion have made the wilderness to blossom as a rose of Sharon."

"Oh yes, where my father is!" cries Miss Travenion, her eyes growing bright. "To-morrow we will be there."

"Yes, in the evening," a.s.sents Kruger, an indefinite something coming in his eyes that makes the young lady restless.

A moment after she suddenly asks: "Where is my father now?"

"How can I tell? I ain't seen your dad for nigh onto a month," returns Lot, apparently somewhat discomposed by this point-blank question.

"But you can surely make a guess," suggests Erma, "where a telegram will most probably reach him? I have concluded to wire him. Then he will meet me at the station. I wish I had done so before."

"Wall, Salt Lake is the most likely p'int, I reckon," mutters Kruger, who does not seem over pleased at the girl's idea. A second after he suddenly says: "You write the message and I'll make inquiries along the line. I reckon I'll find where he is and send it for you."

"Thank you," says Erma warmly. "I'll go and prepare it at once."

Then leaving Lot still pondering, she steps lightly away, and in a few minutes returns with the following:

"U. P. TRAIN, _Oct. 3, 1871_.

"Arrive at Ogden, to-morrow, at five P.M. Will come through to Salt Lake same night. Meet me at depot.

"Your loving daughter,

"ERMA TRAVENION."

"You'll add the right address to this when you find it, Mr. Kruger,"

says the girl, handing him the message.

"Yes, I'll make inquiries at Medicine Bow," returns Lot, taking the message, "and your dad'll get it to-morrow morning."

"Oh, you are going to stay up to send it? We don't get to Medicine Bow till late, I know by my time table. How kind you are! Papa shall thank you for this, also, dear Mr. Kruger," and Erma holds out a soft patrician hand, that is greedily seized in strong fingers made hard and red by exposure and toil.

Retreating from the grip, however, this New York young lady says earnestly, "Thank you once more, and _au revoir_ until to-morrow."

"Oh, thank me all you want, Sissy; grat.i.tude becomes young maidens,"

mutters Lot, trying to get the beautiful white fingers once more in his.

"Indeed I am grateful," cries the girl, and giving him a look that makes his eyes grow misty and watery, Miss Travenion closes the door of her stateroom, and goes to bed thinking no more of Mr. Kruger's peculiar expression and glances, for he is a friend of her father, and at the least has fifty odd years to his credit on the book of time.

She would be perhaps more concerned about her father's friend did she see Mr. Kruger, whose knowledge of French is very limited, after pondering to himself, "What did that gal mean by O-ver?" finally answer his query by "Guess ag'in, Lot," and betake himself to the smoking car, where, after perusing the girl's telegram several times, he slyly chuckles to himself, "What!--and spile my hopes for myself and my work for the Church?" and with this curious but ambiguous remark places the doc.u.ment coolly in his ample but well-worn pocketbook, between a list of Welsh emigrants _en route_ for Salt Lake City and a despatch from Brigham Young; and shortly after that turn in and sleep the sleep of the just, making no attempt either to find her father's address nor to wire her message, either at Medicine Bow or any other point on the line.

Notwithstanding this, the next morning at Green River, where the train stops for breakfast, Mr. Kruger is on hand to help her from the car and say with paternal voice, "Sissy, Dad's happy now. Dad's happy now!"

"Ah, you've sent the message," exclaims Erma with grateful eyes.

"Yes, it flewed away during the early morning," mutters Lot, which happens to be the exact truth, as, thinking the thing over, he had concluded it was best not to have the message on his person, and had torn it and tossed it out of the car window to the winds of Heaven, as the train had run down those alkaline, non-drinkable waters, cursed by early emigrants and pioneers under the name of Bitter Creek.

But Erma Travenion hardly heeds him; her eyes are towards the West and she is murmuring, "Papa--perhaps this afternoon,--certainly to-night!--if not Ogden--surely Salt Lake!" and her face is so happy, and she goes to thanking Mr. Kruger so heartily for his kindness in sending the telegram, that he might have pangs of conscience as to what he intends for this Eastern b.u.t.terfly, who comes with brightness on her wings into the West, had he not been used to dealing with all people sternly, even himself, when acting for the glories of Zion, and the smiting down of unbelievers.

Then being joined by the Livingstons and Mr. Chauncey, who have been looking at the surprising scenery of this river, the first water they have as yet met which flows into the blue Pacific, she goes in to breakfast; Mr. Kruger, who seems to feel more at his ease as he nears his native heath, walking alongside of Miss Beauty. Pointing to the great elk heads with their branching antlers on the hotel walls, he remarks, "Thar's any quant.i.ty of them critters up thar in the Wind River Mountains, in which this 'ere stream heads."

"You've been up there?" asks Ferdie, always excited when big game is mentioned.

"Wall rather," returns Lot. "I was up all about thar and the Rattlesnake Hills and the Sweet.w.a.ter Mountains and South Pa.s.s and Independence Springs in 1857, when Johnston and the U.S. troops were comin' through, and we rounded up and burnt--" But here he stops very suddenly.

"What did you burn?" queries Mr. Chauncey, anxiously.

"Oh, nothin' to speak of--brushwood and such truck," returns the uncommunicative Lot. "But here's the dining-table, Sonny!"

Then the party being seated, notwithstanding Mr. Kruger's efforts at conversation and the delights of gastronomy, Miss Travenion's eyes will wander about, seeking an athletic figure that she sees not; for somehow she misses the man of yesterday, and despises herself for it.

Towards the close of their meal there is a slight commotion outside, and the man taking the money at the door as the wayfarers pa.s.s out, deserts his post. Ferdie, who is so seated that he can look through the open windows, suddenly says, "It's some accident;" next cries, "It's Buck Powers!" and rushes from the room.

A moment after Erma finds herself outside among an excited crowd, gazing at Captain Lawrence striding along the platform, bearing in his arms the form of Buck, the news-agent.

"The boy was coupling the cars, and forgot till too late they had Miller platforms that come together," says the captain, mentioning a kind of accident very common on the first introduction of this life-saving invention, which until railroad men got accustomed to it, was a source of danger instead of safety, as it now is. Then he goes on quite tenderly, "But I got there in time, didn't I, Buck?"

And the news-boy opens his red eyes and gasps, "You bet you did, pard,"

and there is a little cheer from the crowd, over which Lawrence's voice is heard: "Get a doctor, quick!"

Then a looker-on says, "Take him to the hotel."

But Buck groans, "Keep me on the train, or they will steal all my stock of goods and I'll be busted," and some one suggests the baggage car.