Part 35 (2/2)

'He didn't get hurt in any tunnel,' Robbins a.s.serted. The color flared into his face with the intensity of his conviction. The horrid memory of the man set him to blinking. 'He couldn't get hurt if he was lying down, could he? And if he was standing up, it'd knock him off, wouldn't it? It wasn't any tunnel--'

He broke off, aware suddenly of the smiling ridicule in the faces round him. Grotend, brother-in-law to the coroner who had held the inquest, laughed good-temperedly.

'Go it, William J. Burns, Junior! I s'pose some fancy murderer crawled up on top between stations. Or he got jolted down out of an air-s.h.i.+p.

It'd take something like that--'

Grotend was popular with the group. Their ready laughter rewarded the attack. And the younger boy's crimson misery was an invitation to further teasing.

'You hadn't ought to be stingy with bright ideas like that, Nelse. He sent you an anonymous letter, didn't he? Or maybe you saw a man in a black mask beating him up--'

'No, I didn't!' said Robbins loudly. He cast about desperately in his mind for a means of escape. 'I didn't see anybody beating him up, but I saw Jim Whiting coming down off the end of the car.'

A hush followed his statement--a tribute to the weight of it. Grotend, his lips parted for a fresh jibe, drew in his breath sharply as though in the shock of a cold douche. Then,--

'You saw Jim Whiting?' he reiterated.

Jim Whiting was brakeman on the local freight, a figure familiar enough to all of them.

'Getting deaf, aren't you?' Robbins retorted.

He turned his back upon his tormentors and walked away across the platform.

He was not much impressed with the importance of his lie. Chiefly, he was elated that there had come to him a lie suitable to turn the tables.

Half-way home his elation lasted, to be crowded out only by the recurring memory of the injured tramp. The boy had never before seen violent death. The picture of the man as he sped past, b.l.o.o.d.y and misshapen, on the swaying car-top; the later picture of him borne up the street on the improvised stretcher, came back upon him hideously. That for such destruction, for such wanton suffering, there should be no punishable agent, seemed intolerable. And the idea once presented, who so likely as Whiting--

He heard the beat of footsteps behind him, and Grotend, breathing quickly, swung into pace at his side.

'I been trying to catch up with you,' he explained unnecessarily. 'Say, when Jim come out on the platform, I spoke to him. I says, ”One of the fellows says he saw you up on top that day the tramp got hurt.” And you'd ought to seen him. I guess he knew--'

'What'd he say?' Robbins interrupted.

'All he says was, ”You tell that fellow he's a liar”; but if you'd seen the look on him--,'

'Don't you tell him I said it,' the younger boy cautioned. 'I don't want him down on me.' A belated stir of conscience set him to hedging.

'Anyhow, I didn't say I saw him up on the car. All I saw was when he was just there on those iron steps on the side. I don't know if he was going up or down.'

They stood at the Nelson gate for a little, talking. It was full dark when Robbins went up the shrub-lined path to the porch. In the lighted dining-room his mother and the younger children were already at supper.

'Late, Robbins,' Mrs. Nelson admonished as he slid into his place. Then, catching sight of his face, 'Tired out? If it's that accident that's worrying you--'

'It's not,' the boy denied. He felt his cheeks grow hot with a sudden flush of annoyance. 'I don't see what I'd worry about that for. Only, Charlie Grotend told Mr. Whiting I saw him on the car that day, and it made Whiting mad. I was wis.h.i.+ng he hadn't.'

'You didn't say anything more than that--that he could have helped it, or anything like that? Well, then!' She put the discussion aside with a gesture. 'Merle Williams telephoned to see if you'd come over there to-night. You might as well. There's no use brooding--'

'I'm _not!_' Robbins flung back angrily.

<script>