Mrs. Minks Soldier and Other Stories | Page 8

concluded his tale, which
was in fact an undress rehearsal of what he intended to tell on the
morrow, he looked forward with modest satisfaction to the triumph that
was sure to be his. For the hundredth time he made certain that the
small brown purse, so unused to its present obesity, was safe and sound

in his inside pocket.
During the pause that followed his recital, his audience grew restive.
"Go on, do it again," urged the ragged boy who sold the sandwiches,
"show us how Forty Fathom Dan looked when he thought he was
sinking.
"I don't dare trifle with me features," said Phelan solemnly. "How much
are those sandwiches. One for five, is it? Two for fifteen, I suppose.
Well, here's one for me, and one for Corp, and keep the change, kid.
Ain't that the train coming?"
"It's the up train," said the station-master, rising reluctantly; "it meets
yours here. I've got to be hustling."
Phelan, left without an audience, strolled up and down the platform,
closely followed by Corporal Harrihan.
As the train slowed up at the little Junction, there was manifestly some
commotion on board. Standing in the doorway of the rear car a small,
white-faced woman argued excitedly with the conductor.
"I didn't have no ticket, I tell you!" she was saying as the train came to
a stop. "I 'lowed I'd pay my way, but I lost my pocket-book. I lost it
somewheres on the train here, I don't know where it is!"
"I've seen your kind before," said the conductor wearily; "what did you
get on for when you didn't have anything to pay your fare with?"
"I tell you I lost my pocket-book after I got on!" she said doggedly; "I
ain't going to get off, you daren't put me off!"
Phelan, who had sauntered up, grew sympathetic. He, too, had
experienced the annoyance of being pressed for his fare when it was
inconvenient to produce it.
"Go ahead," demanded the conductor firmly, "I don't want to push you
off, but if you don't step down and out right away, I'll have it to do."
The woman's expression changed from defiance to terror. She clung to
the brake with both hands and looked at him fearfully.
"No, no, don't touch me!" she cried. "Don't make me get off! I've got to
get to Cincinnati. My man's there. He's been hurt in the foundry.
He's--maybe he's dying now."
"I can't help that, maybe it's so and maybe it ain't. You never had any
money when you got on this train and you know it. Go on, step off!"
"But I did!" she cried wildly; "I did. Oh, God! don't put me off."
The train began to move, and the conductor seized the woman's arms

from behind and forced her forward. A moment more and she would be
pushed off the lowest step. She turned beseeching eyes on the little
group of spectators, and as she did so Phelan Harrihan sprang forward
and with his hand on the railing, ran along with the slow-moving train.
With a deft movement he bent forward and apparently snatched
something from the folds of her skirt.
"Get on to your luck now," he said with an encouraging smile that
played havoc with the position of his features; "if here ain't your
pocket-book all the time!"
The hysterical woman looked from the unfamiliar little brown purse in
her hand, to the snub-nosed, grimy face of the young man running
along the track, then she caught her breath.
"Why,--" she cried unsteadily, "yes--yes, it's my purse."
Phelan loosened his hold on the railing and had only time to scramble
breathlessly up the bank before the down train, the train for Nashville
which was to have been his, whizzed past.
He watched it regretfully as it slowed up at the station, then almost
immediately pulled out again for the south, carrying his hopes with it.
"Corporal," said Phelan, to the dog, who had looked upon the whole
episode as a physical-culture exercise indulged in for his special benefit,
"a noble act of charity is never to be regretted, but wasn't I the original
gun, not to wait for the change?"
His lack of business method seemed to weigh upon him, and he
continued to apologize to Corporal:
"It was so sudden, you know, Corp. Couldn't see a lady ditched, when I
had a bit of stuffed leather in my pocket. And two hundred miles to
Nashville! Well I'll--be--jammed!"
He searched in his trousers pockets and found a dime in one and a hole
in the other. It was an old trick of his to hide a piece of money in time
of prosperity, and then discover it in the blackness of adversity.
He held the dime out ruefully: "That's punk and