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Updated: June 12, 2025
But, somehow, the water-finding puzzled me less than it did that Rooum should be extraordinarily sensitive to something far commoner and easier to understand ordinary echoes. He couldn't stand echoes.
On the fourth platform, at the end of the way, I found Hopkins. He was white, and seemed to be counting on his fingers. "What's the matter here?" I cried. "It's Rooum," he answered. "I hadn't stepped out of the cab, not a minute, when I heard the lever go. He's running somebody down, he says; he'll run the whole shoot down in a minute look!..." The crane was coming back again.
He stumbled to his feet. I shook myself free of the man who held me and stepped up to Rooum. "What the devil's all this about?" I demanded, roughly enough. "It's all right ... it's all right,..." he stammered. "Heavens, man, you shouldn't play tricks like that!" "No ... no ... but for the love of God don't do it again!..."
As regards the name, I dare say it was something huggermugger in the mere sound something that I classed, for no particular reason, with the dark and ignorant sort of words, such as "Obi" and "Hoodoo." I only know that after I learned that his name was Rooum, I couldn't for the life of me have thought of him as being called anything else.
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