Louis Joseph Vance

The Bronze Bell Louis Joseph Vance

Breaking suddenly upon the steady drumming of the trucks, the prolonged and husky roarof a locomotive whistle saluted an immediate grade-crossing. Roused by this sound from his solitary musings in the parlour-car of which he happenedtemporarily to be the sole occupant, Mr. David Amber put aside the magazine over whichhe had been dreaming, and looked out of the window, catching a glimpse of woodland roadshining white between sombre walls of stunted pine. Lazily he consulted his watch."It's not for nothing," he observed pensively, "that this railroad wears its reputation: we areconsistently late."His gaze, again diverted to the flying countryside, noted that it had changed character, pineyielding to scrub-oak and second-growth-the ragged vestments of an area some yearssince denuded by fire. This, too, presently swung away, giving place to cleared land-arableacres golden with the stubble of garnered harvests or sentinelled with unkempt shocks ofcorn. In the south a shimmer of laughing gold and blue edged the faded horizon. Eagerly the young man leaned forward, dark eyes the functions of waiting-room and ticketand telegraph offices. From its eaves depended a weather-worn board bearing the legend: "Nokomis."The train, pausing only long enough to disgorge from the baggage-car a trunk or two andfrom the day-coaches a thin trickle of passengers, flung on into the wilderness, cracked bellclanking somewhat disdainfully. By degrees the platform cleared, the erstwhile patrons of the road and the station loafers-for the most part hall-marked natives of the region-straggling off upon their several ways, some afoot, a majority in dilapidated surreys and buckboards. Amber watched them gowith unassumed indifference; their type interested him little. But in their company hepresently discovered one, a figure so thoroughly foreign and aloof in attitude, that it caughthis eye, and, having caught, held it clouded with perplexity.5Abruptly he abandoned his belongings and gave chase, overtaking the object of hisattention at the far end of the station."Doggott!" he cried. "I say, Doggott!"His hand, falling lightly upon the man's shoulder, brought him squarely about, hisexpression transiently startled, if not a shade truculent. Short and broad yet compact of body, he was something round-shouldered, with the stoopof those who serve. In a mask of immobility, full-colored and closely shaven, his lips werethin and tight, his eyes steady, grey and shallow: a countenance neither dishonest norrepellent, but one inscrutable. Standing solidly, once halted, there remained a suggestion ofalertness in the fellow's pose."Doggott, what the deuce brings you here? And Mr. Rutton?"Amber's cordiality educed no response. The grey eyes, meeting eyes dark, kindly, andpenetrating, flickered and fell; so much emotion they betrayed, no more, and that asdisingenuous as you could wis