"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 3 October 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER V.

No sound came to them, however, except the seady pattering of the rain, and the occasional rumble of the thunder, as the storm passed on into the distance. For some minutes longer they lay, drawing great draughts of air into their overtaxed lungs. At last Smith dragged himself to a sitting position.

“Thank Heaven for that rheumatiz of yours, Shep,” he panted. “When you feel better we’ll get on, for I fancy they’ll beat this country well after the storm passes, even if it is dark.” Shep drew himself painfully to his feet, and still hugging his basket, they continued on their way. The going was slow and difficult, as they practically had to feel their way. When they had been walking for about a quarter of an hour, they heard a low rumbling away to the left. “Struth!” muttered Shep, “it’s cornin’ up again.” Smith stopped to listen, and then hurried forward eagerly. “Come on, Shep. That’s a goods train. We must be near the railway. As he spoke, he pulled up suddenly against a wire fence, and on going through this they found themselves on the railway line. The train was still some distance away and was coming very slowly. “We must be on an uphill grade,” said Smith. “Lie down at the side here until the engine passes, and we’ll be able to jump on easily.” They lay down and awaited the oncoming train, getting back their breath at the same time, and fortifying themselves for the necessary effort of boarding the moving train. The engine passed them, labouring under its heavy load of trucks, and they jumped to their feet. Running alongside, Smith waited until a box car was passing, and then, giving his suitcase to Shep, he jumped for the door bar. He caught it, and, hanging on with one hand, he undid the catch and pulled open the door. Swinging himself inside, he knelt down to help the panting Shep. He took the case and the basket first; then, leaning down, caught Shep by the hands and hoisted him up into the truck. “Now,” said Smith, after they had recovered. “Kindly explain! This is the second time in my career that I’ve had to fly from justice, and all within twenty-four hours.” He pointed to the basket. “What’s this?” Shep drew the basket towards him, explaining his adventure to Smith as he undid the fastenings. Smith’s smile broadened as Shep proceeded with his tale, and when he finally struck a match and saw the contents, he slapped Shep on the bacK. “I forgive you everything,” he said. “We’ve now violated the law twice, but I don’t mind becoming an accessory after the fact and assisting you to dispose of this ‘Manna from Heaven.” “Gee!” mumbled Shep, with his mouth full of sandwich, “there’s even a flask of hot tea!”

For the next fifteen minutes they had no time for further conversation, and the train puffed on, carrying two wet, but otherwise happy tramps. When the police had gone off in pursuit of Shep, Jeans took his hat from his head, and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. It had been another very close call for the Ranger.

“Phew!” he muttered. “We can thank our lucky stars we had that basket. For heaven’s sake, Mira, let’s get away from Suicide Bend before it claims another victim. These narrow squeaks are getting me nervy.” Mira, herself a bundle of nerves, was only too eager to obey. The sight of policemen always made her shiver, and the present narrow escape was demoralising. They waited just long enough to let the police get out of sight over the hill, and then, jumping in their car, they turned about and sped quickly for Weyburn. “Step on it,” urged Mira.

“I am . stepping on it,” snapped Jeans, his accelerator foot touching th< floor-boards. He turned and glared at Mira. “If the police had looked at your face, we wouldn’t be here now. You were like a ghost.” Mira made no reply. She had been too badly scared even to argue with her husband. She was no heroine, nor did she make any pretensions to being one. Her share in the partnership, although valuable, took no risks, and, until the hold-up of their car the previous night, she had never been called upon to put her bravery to the test. She acted as decoy for wealthy young men whose time hung heavily on their hands, Jeans, by various designs, taking care that their money was more easily disposed of than their time.

“We’re as far -off as ever, thencase is gone” he asked, as they raced along. “You’re sure we looked in the right place?” “We’re as far o ffas even, then — worse, in fact.”

He looked straight ahead, deep in thought, while the car ate up mile after mile, coming nearer to Weyburn with every beat of the engine. Mira occasionally looked behind to see if the police car was in pursuit.. “This business is getting me puzzled,” said Jeans at last. “I don’t know what to make of it. I have a suspicion that the little runt who stole our basket is one of the tramps who came to our assistance last night. He’s a tramp all right. What I can’t understand is why they chipped in—unless, maybe, they thought it was a hold-up and decided to beat the other crowd for the pickings.” He grinned at his wife. “If he was one of our friends of last night he has placed us doubly in his debt now, because if he hadn’t stolen that basket we might have had to answer a lot of very awkward questions to the police. Now, who has the ' suitcase —the tramps or the police? Why are the tramps hanging around Suicide Bend, and what did the police come for?” Just then the storm broke,- and the visibility became so bad that it ‘took all of Jean’s attention to keep the car on the road. Even with the aid of the headlights the range of vision was not more than a few yards, and Jeans had to cut down his speed by more than half. The rain had its compensations, however, as it would wash out any tracks made by their car, and should the police wish to question them they wouldn’t know which way they had gone. The slow speed, therefore, mattered little, and in any case, the police would be kept back as much as Jeans. Even with this consilation, their minds were not at ease until they had garaged their car and were making their way back into the city. Meanwhile, Smith and Shep, with no | thought of the morrow, had done full justice to the contents of the basket.

When they had finished, Shep turned the basket upside down to make sure that nothing had been missed, and then, with a look of regret, as though he wished that baskets also were made of edible material, he threw it out of the door.

For two hungry men, it could hardly have been called a feed, Jeans having brought it merely as a camouflage to search for the suitcase, and certainly having no intention of providing for a couple of members of the hobo fraternity. However, it considerably r< lieved the situation, and brightened the outlook as far as Smith and Shep were concerned.

The rain had gone off by this time and the thunderclouds were rolling away to the eastward, where an occasional flash of lightning could still be seen. Taking off their clothes, they wrung the water out of them, and tied them to the door bar to dry in the wind made by the moving train.

The progress was painfully slow and uncomfortable, the railway authorities making no provision for the floating population of the country, but to compensate for this, it was free, and extremely timely. From time to time there were stops for the purpose of shunting off trucks, or taking on others, and these operations were accompanied with a bumping and jarring which threatened to dislodge the cakes and sandwiches from their last resting place. At each stop, the tramps would close the door, in case any of the train crew should notice it open, and investigate. Train crews are well aware that practically every goods train carries its quota of free travellers, and a certain amount of latitude is allowed so long as they remain unseen, but in cases where authority is flouted, they take steps to expel the offenders. This pa ticular method of travel is known as “jumping the rattler,” and many thousands of miles of free rail transport is provided yearly by the Railway Department. “By the way!” said Smith, as he was wrestling into his now dry clothes and getting jolted about from side to side as he endeavoured to balance himself on one leg, “I hope this train is making for Weyburn.” “It’s making for somewhere, anyway,” replied Shep, who was not very interested in Weyburn, “an’ the longer it keeps makin’ the farther the cops’ll have to chase us.”

Shep was still sceptical of the outcome of the ball adventure. He mentioned that Timbuctoo would be a more welcome destination, although possibly he would have changed his mind if he had been familiar with Timbuctoo.

“Ever been in Weyburn, Shep?” asked Smith. “Once,” admitted Shep, “but I could run in them days, though.” The train stopped once more, and shunting operations were commenced. There was the usual nightmare of bumps and rattles whilst some trucks were b'eing dumped. They heard the guard calling something to the enginedriver, and then the puffing of the engine told them that the train was on the move once more.

“Our chauffeur’s gettin’ mighty careful an’ considerate,” remarked Shep. “I never even felt ’im start that time.’

The noise of the engine grew fainter. Smith looked at Shep, then with an exclamation, jumped to his feet. Pulling the door open, he put his head out, and had the mortification of seeing the fast disappearing tail light pf the guard’s van as it steamed off without them. “We’ve been sidetracked!” he called to Shep in dismay. Shep came to the door and looked out.

“Struth!” he muttered disgustedly. “Out of fifty odd trucks we had to pick this one.” 1 They could see the myriad lights of a city in the distance, and Shep, who was familiar with the country, knew by the size of it that it could be nowhere else but Weyburn. Their particular truck had been shunted into a siding about ten miles from the city, and there was now nothing else for it but to walk, as Smith, who was looking forward to attend the ball, wanted to be as near'as possible when darkness fell the following night. It would have meant, otherwise, that they would have to leave for Weyburn in daylight, or else arrive at the dance very late. “Bad luck,” said Smith, as he prepared to descend to the track. “It’s an omen,” declared Shep, sagely. “We should keep clear of Weyburn after that, or we’re likely to strike trouble.”

“Superstitious, Shep?” asked Smith, smiling.

“Maybe I am, but things happens,” was the reply. In spite of Shep’s omen, they set off walking along the line in tne direction of Weyburn. It was a long walk, but walking is the tramp’s trade and a mere ten miles is neither one way or another. Within sight of civilisation, the houses were more numerous, getting gradually closer together as they approached the suburbs. Shep informed Smith that a river ran through the southern side of the city, just skirting the city itself, the banks having shelter to hide an army. They walked on for about four miles, and just after entering the first of the suburbs, they came to the river. Crossing the railway bridge, they took to the river bank and followed this for about another three miles, gradually coming nearer to the city all the while. Finally, they settled on a spot which was a good way from any house, and where they could remain in obscurity during the day. They had no desire to attract any more attention than was absolutely necessary. The place they had chosen was a thick patch of ti-tree scrub on the edge of a lagoon. They had some difficulty in finding a dry spot, as the rain had soaked the ground everywhere, but making themselves as comfortable as they could under the circumstances, they lay down to sleep away the few remaining hours of darkness. The following morning they were awakened early by the flies, which settled on their faces in swarms, and effectually banished all hope of further sleep. Being tired after their night of adventures, they did not feel very much like early rising. They twisted themselves into all sorts of positions, and tried to cover their faces with their arms, but when they dozed off, the arms would slip away, and the flies returned to the attack with renewed vigour. At last, Shep, goaded beyond further endurance, sat up, and using his arms like flails, made a determined attack on his persecutors. “Gee,” he muttered in disgust. “What

a country! It contains all the discomforts known to man; flies, fleas an’ mosquitoes, an’ a thousand crawlin’ insects that eat a man.” At the word “eat,” he desisted, and cast a rueful glance at Smith, who was lying watching his companion in amusement. “Wish we’d left a little of that lot we ’ad last night. We got nothin’ in the larder, ’ave we?” “Nothing but tea,” was the smiling answer. “Nothin’ but tea,” repeated Shep, sadly. “If I outlive me rich uncle I’ll swear off tea for ever.” Smith rose and stretched himself. (To be Continued.)