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There was another pause, a break in the clicking of Goodloe's telegraph instruments, and then the agent's voice came back over the wire: "Can't reach the special. It passed Timanyoni ten minutes ago." Judson's heart was in his mouth, and he had to swallow twice before he could go on. "Where does it meet the passenger?" he demanded.
Goodloe's flock at the same time, and when I told him my decision he laughed and said be sure and have it made two inches shorter than you made Sue's frocks, because her bare knees ought not to be hid from the world. That was about all that transpired in the whole hour of spiritual conference you are spreading the scandal about, and you ought to be ashamed."
"'I ain't sayin' nothin', I says. "'How does eight thousand look to you? he says. "'Big, I says. 'But you'll have to see Miss Goodloe at Goodloe, Kentucky, if you want this colt. "Oh, General Goodloe's daughter, he says. 'Does she own him? When I go back next week I'll drop over and see her.
So wonderful did it seem to me that I thought it must be in my every word and deed and look and I was confounded that as yet I was considered to be an outsider and not entitled to plan for the ceremonial of the dedication of the material fold for the Reverend Mr. Goodloe's flock.
"Greg Goodloe's great great grandfather and mine fought off the Indians from a stockade which stood where his chapel does now, but a year of modern life about represents a generation of pioneer endeavor." "Not too fast, youngster, not too fast," said Mr. Jeffries, and I saw him exchange a grave glance with father. "What we Americans must have is stabilizers now that we have annihilated time.
"If I can get down yonder to Goodloe's wire in time to catch the super's special before it passes Timanyoni" he went on, only to drop his jaw and gasp when he held the face of his watch up to the moonlight. Then, brokenly, "My God! I couldn't begin to do it unless I had wings: he said eleven o'clock, and it's ten-ten right now!"
Then, at the climax of despairing helplessness he remembered that there was a telephone in the mine-owner's office a telephone that connected with Goodloe's station at Little Butte. Here was a last slender chance of getting a warning to Goodloe, and through him, by means of the railroad wire, to the superintendent's special.
"It's my child, Oh, it's mine!" came an answering, cry, and from behind some hiding place Martha Ensley flung herself across the front of the huddled group of the Settlement people and against the defense of Gregory Goodloe's strong arm which held her from the tottering doorway he was supporting. "Let me get him out!" "No, Martha," the parson said calmly and tenderly, as he held her back.
"'You bet I will, I says, 'n' I beats it over to the barns. . . I finds Uncle Jake, 'n' he's got weak eyes all right he can't hardly see. He's got rheumatism, too he's all crippled up with it. When I gets back with him, Miss Goodloe's still standin' on the porch. "'I want to find out who bought old Mary, Uncle Jake, she says. 'Do you know?
Since Goodloe had not cut off the connection, the mingled clamor of the station came to the listening ear; the incessant clicking of the telegraph instruments on Goodloe's table, the trundling roar of a baggage-truck on the station platform, the cacophonous screech of the passenger-engine's pop-valve.
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