Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter IV
Voicescamefromtheotherendofthecar,strangeandunfamiliar,asthoughheardatagreatdistanceacrossthewater.Thestillnessofthenightoutsidewassoprofoundthattherain,drippingfromthecarroofupontheroad-bedunderneath,wasasdistinctasthetickingofaclock.
“Well,we’vesurestopped,”observedoneofthedrummers.
“Whatisit?”askedHilmaagain.“Areyousurethere’snothingwrong?”
“Sure,”saidAnnixter.Outside,underneaththeirwindow,theyheardthesoundofhurriedfootstepscrushingintotheclinkersbythesideoftheties.Theypassedon,andAnnixterheardsomeoneinthedistanceshout:
“Yes,ontheotherside.”
Thenthedoorattheendoftheircaropenedandabrakemanwitharedbeardrandowntheaisleandoutupontheplatforminfront.Theforwarddoorclosed.Everythingwasquietagain.Inthestillnessthefatgentleman’ssnoresmadethemselvesheardoncemore.
Theminutespassed;nothingstirred.Therewasnosoundbutthedrippingrain.Thelineofcarslayimmobilisedandinertunderthenight.Oneofthedrummers,havingsteppedoutsideontheplatformforalookaround,returned,saying:
“Theresureisn’tanystationanywheresaboutandnosiding.Betyoutheyhavehadanaccidentofsomekind.”
“Asktheporter.”
“Idid.Hedon’tknow.”
“Maybetheystoppedtotakeonwoodorwater,orsomething.”
“Well,theywouldn’tusetheemergencybrakesforthat,wouldthey?Why,thistrainstoppedalmostinherownlength.Prettynearslungmeouttheberth.Thoseweretheemergencybrakes.Iheardsomeonesayso.
