CHAPTER XIX
FOILED!
It was late in the forenoon before the train came to the end of itsiron furrow across that fertile space between two of the world'sgreatest rivers, which the Indians called "Iowa," nobody knows exactlywhy. In contrast with the palisades of the Mississippi, the Missouritwists like a great brown dragon wallowing in congenial mud. The wateritself, as Bob Brudette said, is so muddy that the wind blowing acrossit raises a cloud of dust.
A sonorous bridge led the way into Nebraska, and the train came to ahalt at Omaha. Mallory and Marjorie got out to stretch their legs andtheir dog. If they had only known that the train was to stop there thequarter of an hour, and if they had only known some preacher there andhad had him to the station, the ceremony could have been consummatedthen and there.
The horizon was fairly saw-toothed with church spires. There werepreachers, preachers everywhere, and not a dominie to do their deed.
After they had strolled up and down the platform, and up and down,and up and down till they were fain of their cramped quarters again,Marjorie suddenly dug her nails into Mallory's arm.
"Honey! look!--look!"
Honey looked, and there before their very eyes stood as clerical alooking person as ever announced a strawberry festival.
Mallory stared and stared, till Marjorie said:
"Don't you see? stupid! it's a preacher! a preacher!"
"It looks like one," was as far as Mallory would commit himself, andhe was turning away. He had about come to the belief that anythingthat looked like a parson was something else. But Marjorie whirled himround again, with a shrill whisper to listen. And he overheard intones addicted to the pulpit:
"Yes, deacon, I trust that the harvest will be plentiful at my newchurch. It grieves me to leave the dear brothers and sisters in theLord in Omaha, but I felt called to wider pastures."
And a lady who was evidently Mrs. Deacon spoke up:
"We'll miss you terrible. We all say you are the best pastor ourchurch ever had."
Mallory prepared to spring on his prey and drag him to his lair, butMarjorie held him back.
"He's taking our train, Lord bless his dear old soul."
And Mallory could have hugged him. But he kept close watch. To therapture of the wedding-hungry twain, the preacher shook hands withsuch of his flock as had followed him to the station, picked up hisvalise and walked up to the porter, extending his ticket.
But the porter said--and Mallory could have throttled him for sayingit:
"'Scuse me, posson, but that's yo' train ova yonda. You betta moveright smaht, for it's gettin' ready to pull out."
With a little shriek of dismay, the parson clutched his valise and setoff at a run. Mallory dashed after him and Marjorie after Mallory.They shouted as they ran, but the conductor of the east-bound trainsang out "All aboard!" and swung on.
The parson made a sprint and caught the ultimate rail of the movingtrain. Mallory made a frantic leap at a flying coat-tail and missed.As he and Marjorie stood gazing reproachfully at the train which wasgiving a beautiful illustration of the laws of retreating perspective,they heard wild howls of "Hi! hi!" and "Hay! hay!" and turned to seetheir own train in motion, and the porter dancing a Zulu stepalongside.