Part 26 (1/2)

I lay sprawled there, hurting all over but happy to be alive. While I fought to wheeze some air into my chest, the clatter of the train faded down the tracks. n.o.body must've seen me go overboard except Elmont, because it didn't stop. Pretty soon, the whistle tooted a farewell to me.

When I was able to breathe again, I got to my feet. I felt a trifle wobbly, so I didn't go anywhere but just stood where I was.

At the bottom of the railroad embankment. The high slope loomed over me, all rocks and weeds and bushes. From where I stood, I probably couldn't have seen the train even if it had still been there. All that remained of it was a distant rumble and some ragged tatters of smoke black in the moonlight.

Turning around slow and careful, I saw nothing except woods. Not a road or a house or a human being, nor the glimmer of a campfire.

I wasn't frightened, though.

I hurt too much to feel fear or much of anything else besides my hurts. My bones ached. My hands and knees burned, and so did parts of my back and rump. I'd been scuffed and scratched up considerable during my fast trip down the slope.

The nights.h.i.+rt was clinging to my back. With dew, I hoped. I shucked off the s.h.i.+rt and held it out under the moonlight. It was shredded some. It looked mighty filthy, but I could only see a few dark spots that I took for blood. The better part of the dampness was dew, which came as a relief.

I put the s.h.i.+rt on, then made my way up the embankment. It wasn't a pleasant journey in bare feet, but a sight less distressing than the quick trip down it. When I got to the top, I sat on a rail to brush the grit and pebbles off my feet. The rail still felt a bit warm from the train going by.

The tracks stretched off into the distance, gleaming like silver.

I wondered what Sarah was thinking right then. She was likely all warm and snug in her bed, worrying about how come I was taking so long at the toilet. Maybe figured my supper hadn't agreed with me.

It was me who hadn't agreed with Elmont.

I could've kicked myself for knocking that cigar out of his mouth. Now he was riding along the rails with Sarah, all pleased with himself for removing a certain impudent servant boy.

With me out of the way, no telling what he might get up to.

He'd probably no sooner chucked me over the side than he'd gone looking for her.

No. Wouldn't do that. Too wily.

He'd want Sarah to fall asleep and not catch on till morning that I'd gone missing. Then he'd be at her full time.

It got me angry and miserable thinking about such things. Pretty soon, I realized I wasn't helping the situation by sitting on a rail. So I got up and started after the train.

The cinders hurt my feet. The wooden ties weren't a whole lot better. So I took to walking along the smooth iron of a rail. The only trick was keeping steady. Every so often, I'd fall off and do more damage to my feet.

But I kept at it. There was bound to be a depot up ahead, and likely a town. Just a matter of getting there. Of course, it might be twenty miles off. Or fifty. So long as I followed the tracks, though, I'd reach it sooner or later.

I tried to tell myself that Sarah'd be there waiting for me. The only chance for that was if she got worried and searched the train and figured out I was nowhere aboard. She might do just that. She sure wouldn't be able to get the train to come back for me, but she was bound to make it stop at the first station and let her off. Then she'd be shut of Elmont, and we'd be joining up again soon as I found the depot.

More than likely, though, Sarah'd drifted off to sleep. It'd be morning before she realized I was gone. By then, the train would be a few hundred miles south.

It was mighty depressing to contemplate.

But I judged things would turn out. All I needed to do was stick with the tracks, keep on heading for Tombstone, and we'd find each other by and by.

Unless Sarah decided to take up with Elmont, give up on me, and head off for parts unknown with the scoundrel.

That was out of my hands, though.

I tried not to worry my head about such things. The trick for me was just to keep on walking and find civilization.

The rail had been warm at first. But it cooled off pretty quick. Before long, it felt like ice under my feet. The wind picked up, too, and turned nippier by the minute. It slipped clean through my nights.h.i.+rt, and tossed it about, and rushed up underneath it.

Finally, I took to shaking so bad and my feet were so numb that I fell off the rail every third or fourth step. I gave up on the rail, and hobbled along on the gravel and cinders and wooden ties. They weren't near as cold as the iron. My feet thawed out enough to let me feel every sharp thing they stepped on.

What I did was rip off my long sleeves and bind them around my feet. That helped some. I kept on going. No matter how far I trudged along, though, the tracks just kept on stretching out empty ahead of me and I never saw a thing except forests on both sides.

I allowed I'd likely freeze up stiff before I ever came to the next depot.

At last, I went down the embankment. It was mighty rough on my feet and hindquarters, but I got to the bottom. There, the wind wasn't so bad. Couldn't feel it much at all once I'd made my way into the trees and burrowed into the moist leaves. The ground was hard and lumpy. I still felt cold and miserable. But I fell asleep, somehow.

Morning improved matters considerable. I woke up to find warm sunlight s.h.i.+ning down on me through the treetops. It felt so fine I just lay there, soaking up the heat and listening to the birds sing. Other than the birds and some bugs humming about, I heard a breeze rustling the leaves and a sound I couldn't quite place. It was a rushy noise like a strong wind. It didn't gust and fade like wind, though. It whushed along steady.

All of a sudden I knew it must be a river.

And me with my mouth as dry as sand.

I stood up quick, forgetting about my aches and pains. Right off, they reminded me of themselves. I let out a yowl. The way my feet felt, I might've been one of those fellows the General told me about-one of those captives who got staked down by Indians and had his feet toasted. The rest of me wasn't much better off. I stood there hunched over like a cripple. That didn't get me any closer to the water, though.

Finally, I straightened myself up. I turned toward the sound of the stream, and started to move. The first few steps were pure torture.

The pain was rather like a plunge in frigid water, shocking and horrid for a bit, but not so bad after you'd gotten used to it. Pretty soon, the pain eased off some.

I hobbled along, dodging tree trunks, ducking under low limbs, taking the long way around thickets and boulders and deadfalls in my way, sometimes pus.h.i.+ng on through bushes that scratched my legs and snagged my nights.h.i.+rt. Before long, I was breathless and pouring sweat. My nights.h.i.+rt felt like it was pasted to my skin. The sleeves came off my feet a few times, and I had to stop and fix them before I could go on. Other times, I stopped for no reason other than to wipe my face and catch my wind.

At last, though, I came to the river.

What a grand sight! A lane of water thirty or more feet across, curling and tumbling its way over a bed of pale rocks. It was mostly shadowed by the trees, but here and there it s.h.i.+mmered with patches of sunlight.

I stood on the bank, gazing down at it, so struck with admiration that all my torments seemed to vanish.

This was my my river. I'd trekked through the wilderness and discovered it. Me, Trevor Wellington Bentley, a lad from London. Like Natty b.u.mpo or Daniel Boone, I'd made my way over the trackless, uncharted land of the American frontier to find a secret wonder. river. I'd trekked through the wilderness and discovered it. Me, Trevor Wellington Bentley, a lad from London. Like Natty b.u.mpo or Daniel Boone, I'd made my way over the trackless, uncharted land of the American frontier to find a secret wonder.

Battered as I was, I felt just bully.

It seemed as if nothing in the world existed except me and the woods and my river.

The rocks along the sh.o.r.e hurt my feet, but not my mood. Pretty soon, I stepped into the clear, rus.h.i.+ng water. It was almighty cold! So cold I swear my feet hissed and steam curled off them. But they felt a whole lot better.

Crouching down, I scooped water into my mouth. One handful after another. It was the sweetest liquid that ever pa.s.sed my lips. It was magical nectar. I felt like I was drinking mountain tops and sunlight and shadowy glens and a chill wind from the forest.

When I couldn't hold any more, I waded along through the currents. With every step, my stomach sloshed. I kept close to sh.o.r.e, and didn't stop till I came to one of the sunny places.

Hanging on to a boulder, I untied the sleeves and shook them out. I washed them, spread them out on the rock to dry, then did the same with my nights.h.i.+rt.

The water froze me up frightful when I plunged in. It put me in mind of when I'd dived into the ocean to save Trudy. I hadn't thought about her much in recent times, and wished she hadn't snuck up on me now. A whole pa.s.sel of bad memories started running through my head.