The men re-entered with their faces stung by the cold, the engine
hoarsely signalled and the car started. Glover made little of the
incident, but Gertrude observed some preoccupation in his manner. He
consulted frequently his watch. Once when he was putting it back she
asked to see it. His watch was the only thing of real value he had and
he was pleased to show it. It contained a portrait of his mother, and
Gertrude, to her surprise and delight, found it. She made him answer
question after question, asked him to let her take the watch from the
chain and studied the girlish face of this man's mother until she
noticed its outlines growing dim and looked impatiently up at the deck
burner: the gas was freezing in the storage tanks.
Glover walked to the rear; the journal they told him was running hot
again. The engineer had asked not to be stopped till they reached Soda
Buttes, where he should have to take water. When he finally slowed for
the station the box was ablaze.
The men hastening out found their drip-tank full of ice: there was
nothing for it but fresh brasses, and Glover getting down in the snow
set the jack with his own hands so it should be set right. The
conductor passed him a bar, but Gertrude could not see; she could only
hear the ring of the frosty steel. Then with a scream the safety valve
of the engine popped and the wind tossed the deafening roar in and out
of the car, now half dark. Stunned by the uproar and disturbed by the
failing light she left her chair, and going over sat down at the window
beneath which Glover was working; some instinct made her seek him.
When the car door opened, the flagman entered with both hands filled
with snow.
"Are you ready to start?" asked Gertrude. He shook his head and
bending over a leather chair rubbed the snow vigorously between his
fingers.
"Oh, are you hurt?"
"I froze my fingers and Mr. Glover ordered me in," said the boy.
Gertrude noticed for the first time the wind and listened; standing
still the car caught the full sweep and it rang in her ears softly, a
far, lonely sound.
While she listened the lights of the car died wholly out, but the
jargon of noises from the truck kept away some of the loneliness. She
knew he would soon come and when the sounds ceased she waited for him
at the door and opened it hastily for him. He looked storm-beaten as
he held his lantern up with a laugh. Then he examined the flagman's
hand, followed Gertrude forward and placed the lantern on the table
between them, his face glowing above the hooded light. They were
running again, very fast, and the rapid whipping of the trucks was
resonant with snow.