Part 18 (2/2)

he asked curtly.

”I walk,” said Achilles.

”Want a job?” asked the man.

”You got job for me?” asked Achilles. His voice had all the guileless caution of the foreigner astray in a free land. The man moved along on the seat. ”Jump up,” he said.

Achilles looked back and forth along the road. ”I think I go long,” he said slowly.

The man gave an impatient sound in his throat and clicked to the horses.

The heavy wagon creaked into motion, and caught its rhythm and rumbled on.

Achilles's ears followed it with deepest caution. The creaking ma.s.s of sound had pa.s.sed the flat-spread coat without stop, and gathered itself away into a slow rumble, and pa.s.sed on in the blurring dark.

Beyond it, the little, low lights still twinkled and the suburb waited with its trailing cars.

But when he lifted the coat she had fallen asleep, her face resting on her arm, and he bent to it tenderly, and listened.

x.x.xV

AND CLANGING CARS

He looked up into the darkness and waited. He would let her sleep a minute... there was little danger now. The city waited, over there, with its low lights; and the friendly night shut them in. Before the morning dawned he should bring her home--safe home.... A kind of simple pride held him, and his heart leaped a little to the stars and sang with them--as he squatted in the low gra.s.s, keeping guard.

Presently he leaned and touched her.

She started with a s.h.i.+ver and sprang up, rubbing her eyes and crying out, ”I--had--a--dream--” she said softly--”a beautiful dream!” Then her eyes caught the stars and blinked to them--through dusty sleep--and she turned to him with swift cry, ”You're here!” she said. ”It's _not_ a dream! It's _you_!”

And Achilles laughed out. ”We're going home,” he said, ”when you're rested a little.”

”But I'm rested _now_!” she cried. ”Come!” She sprang to her feet, and they journeyed again--through the night. About them, the plain breathed deep sleeping power--and the long road stretched from the west to the east and brought them home.

Each step, the city lights grew larger, and sparkled more, and spread apart farther, and a low rumble came creeping on the plain--jarring with swift jolts--the clang of cars and lifting life... and, in the distance, a line of light ran fire swiftly on the air, and darted, red and green, and trailed again in fire... and Achilles's finger pointed to it. ”That fire will take us home,” he said.

The child's eye followed the flas.h.i.+ng cars--and she smiled out. The first light of the city's rim touched her face.

”Just a little farther!” said Achilles.

”But I am not tired!” said the child, and she ran a little, beside him, on the stone pavement, her small shoes clumping happily.

Achilles lifted a swift hand to a waiting car. The car clanged its gone--impatient. A big conductor reached down his hand to the child.

The bell clanged again and they were off--”Clang-clang, clear the track!

Betty Harris is going home--This is the people's carriage--Going home!

Going home! Clear the track--clang-clang!” Through the blinking city streets they rode. Safe among the friendly houses, and the shops and the stores, and the people sleeping behind their blinds--all the people who had loved the child--and scanned the paper for her, every day--and asked, ”Is Betty Harris found?”... Going home! Going home!... They would waken in the morning and read the news and shout across the way--”She's been found--yes--a Greek! He brought her home! Thank G.o.d. She's found!”

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