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    Forty Minutes Late 1909
    Forty Minutes Late 1909
    Forty Minutes Late 1909
    Ebook43 pages29 minutes

    Forty Minutes Late 1909

    By Francis Hopkinson Smith

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 25, 2013
    Forty Minutes Late 1909

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      Book preview

      Forty Minutes Late 1909 - Francis Hopkinson Smith

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Forty Minutes Late, by F. Hopkinson Smith

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Forty Minutes Late

             1909

      Author: F. Hopkinson Smith

      Release Date: December 3, 2007 [EBook #23697]

      Last Updated: January 5, 2013

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTY MINUTES LATE ***

      Produced by David Widger

      FORTY MINUTES LATE

      By F. Hopkinson Smith

      1909

      It began to snow half an hour after the train started—a fine-grained, slanting, determined snow that forced its way between the bellows of the vestibules, and deposited itself in mounds of powdered salt all over the platforms and steps. Even the porter had caught some puffs on his depot coat with the red cape, and so had the conductor, from the way he thrashed his cap on the back of the seat in front of mine. Yes, gettin' worse, he said in answer to an inquiring lift of my eyebrows. Everything will be balled up if this keeps on.

      Shall we make the connection at Bondville? I was to lecture fifty miles from Bondville Junction, and had but half an hour lee-way.

      If the man with the punch heard, he made no answer. The least said the soonest mended in crises like this. If we arrived on time every passenger would grab his bag and bolt out without thanking him or the road, or the engineer who took the full blast of the storm on his chest and cheeks. If we missed the connection, any former hopeful word would only add another hot coal to everybody's anger.

      I fell back on the porter.

      Yes' sir, she'll be layin' jes' 'cross de platform. She knows we're comin'. Sometimes she waits ten minutes—sometimes she don't; more times I seen her pullin' out while we was pullin' in.

      Not very reassuring this. Only one statement was of value—the position of the connecting train when we rolled into Bondville.

      I formulated a plan: The porter would take one bag, I the other—we would both stand on the lower step of the Pullman, then make a dash. If she was pulling out as we pulled in, a goatlike spring on my part might succeed; the bags being hurled after me to speed the animal's motion.

      One hour later we

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