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Read Ebook: A Cruise in the Sky; or The Legend of the Great Pink Pearl by Sayler H L Harry Lincoln Riesenberg Sidney H Illustrator
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Ebook has 1210 lines and 41417 words, and 25 pages
"Nothing much doing!" 57
"Jump in," said Andy 183
"Come, Bird of Death!" 209
A Cruise in the Sky OR The Legend of the Great Pink Pearl
A FLORIDA METROPOLIS
All afternoon the train had been following the picturesque shore of the Indian River, in Florida. The snow and ice of the north had long since disappeared. Summer heat increased as the train sped southward. Most of the seats in the car were filled with tourists on their way to Palm Beach. Two persons, both from their looks and actions, were not destined to that aristocratic winter resort.
In one of the sections were a woman and a boy. The latter, about sixteen years old, was begrimed with dust and smoke, but there was a snap in his eyes. In the fast gathering dusk, he sat, his nose mashed against the window and his eyes shaded by his hands, as if anxious to catch every detail of the strange land through which the train was flying.
The woman glanced out of the window now and then in a nervous manner, and, at last, when it was almost wholly dark and the porter had begun to turn on the electric lights, she touched the boy on the shoulder.
"Look at your watch again, Andrew. We must be almost there."
As the boy drew out a watch , his lips puckered.
"Twenty minutes!" he exclaimed, almost in alarm. "We're due at Valkaria at 8:15. It's five minutes of eight now."
"O, dear, I hope they won't forget to stop," said the woman, with increasing nervousness. "Hadn't you better speak to the conductor again? I don't know what we'd do if we were carried past our station."
"I know," answered the boy, with a laugh. "If they forgot us, they'd have to bring us back for nothing. But the conductor won't forget. I've pestered him so often about it that I guess he'll be glad to get rid of us."
"I never thought about it being dark when we got there," the woman went on, as the lights in the car turned the outside world into blackness. "I suppose we'd better not try to open up your uncle's house to-night." She looked out into the deep shadows of the palmettos. "We'll go to a hotel or boarding house to-night."
"What's the use?" argued the boy. "That is, unless you are too tired. It'll be a useless expense. I'd like to find the house to-night, if we can. Someone can show us. Every one in the town'll know where Uncle Abner lived."
"We must go to Captain Anderson first," replied the woman at once. "He is the one who wrote to us of your uncle's death, and sent the body to us for burial. He has the key to the house, and he was your uncle's friend."
"Maybe their homes were near together," suggested the boy hopefully. "I guess it isn't a very big town, and it won't be very late. We can go to a restaurant and get our supper and then find Captain Anderson. He can take us right to the house to-night. It'll be kind o' like campin' out--"
"Camping out?" interrupted the woman. "I hope not, although," and she smiled faintly, "that would just suit you."
The boy only laughed and again tried to make out the landscape.
"Well," he said at last, "even if it's on the main street of Valkaria, it won't be far to the river, and that'll be something."
"What do you think it will be like?" asked the woman as she gathered her bag and wraps together.
"I don't care much," replied the boy, dragging his suitcase from beneath the seat, "just so it isn't too fancy--I don't want to be mowing lawns all the time, 'specially in January."
Just then there was the hoarse sound of the locomotive whistle, and, almost with it, the grinding of the quick set brakes. As the woman and the boy sprang to their feet, the train conductor hurried into the car and the porter sprang forward to help with the baggage of the anxious travelers. As the other passengers aroused themselves in surprise at the unexpected stop, the woman and the boy were hurried to the platform and, the long train scarcely coming to a stop, assisted precipitately from the car.
Instead of landing upon a depot platform, the two suddenly disembarked passengers found themselves on a sandy incline, slipping slowly downward into a dry ditch. They were conscious that their bag, suitcase and wraps had lodged somewhere near their feet. Scrambling to upright positions, they both turned only to see two fading green lights marking the fast disappearing Lake Worth express.
"Andrew!" exclaimed the woman, clasping the boy's arm.
"Looks like they've dumped us into nothin', mother."
"It's gone!" the woman almost shouted.
"Gone?" repeated the boy. "You bet she's gone, and gettin' goner about a mile a minute."
"What'll we do?"
The boy laid his hands on his mother's arms.
"Looks like a mistake. But don't get scared. Let's look about. If this is Valkaria, I reckon it must be the outskirts of the town."
"The trunks," cried the boy's mother. "And they've taken our trunks. What are we to do? Something awful is sure to happen to us."
"It hasn't happened yet, mother. And I can begin to see something. What's this?"
On the far side of the ditch, a dark mass outlined itself in the night. While his mother protested, the boy clambered up the bank. Then a peal of boyish laughter sounded in the still night.
"It's all right, mother. We're right in town. This is the union depot. It's an old box car. And here's the sign on it--'Valkaria.'"
There was a half hysterical sob, and the boy rushed back to his frightened parent.
"Don't be scared, mother. It's all right. This is the place. There's bound to be someone near. Brace up."
Just then the hoarse croak of a frog sounded, and the woman broke into tears. The boy, attempting to pacify her, began another survey of his surroundings.
"Look, mother. It'll be moonlight in a little while. See!"
As he pointed to the east, they could make out the glowing rim of the full moon just silvering the waxen tops of the encircling palmettos. Composing herself somewhat, the frightened woman allowed the boy to help her through the loose sand to the makeshift depot.
Along the front of it ran a rude, tramp-hacked bench. On this, the two seated themselves. The depot-car was doorless. As the boy observed this, he laughed again.
"Why, this isn't bad, mother. We can sleep in here--"
"In there?" protested his mother. "There are insects there, I know. I'm not going to move from this bench till daylight. Then we'll take the first train back to the north."
"It may be our mistake, mother. Maybe Valkaria isn't a town at all. I reckon it isn't, judgin' by the depot."
"Why should they call an old car 'Valkaria?'" exclaimed the woman. "Cars don't have names. They have numbers."
"I give it up," answered the boy, with some cheerfulness. "But I don't see that it's so bad. The weather is fine. I'll bet it's dandy around here in the daytime. That moon's makin' things kind o' great, now."
"What's that?" exclaimed the woman, suddenly catching her son by the arm and pointing in the direction in which the train disappeared. "There! Across the railroad!"
The boy had seen it too. A broad, ribbon-like band of chalky-white extended from the black shadow of the palmettos on the left, crossed the track, and lost itself in the blackness beyond. As the boy looked he caught sight of similar thin strips along the track.
"It's sand, mother. Looks like a ghost, but it's white Florida sand. And I'll bet it's a road. Let's try it. If it's a road, it goes somewhere."
Anything was better than the black, noisome box car. The boy made his way into the now half illuminated ditch and collected the scattered baggage. Laden with it, the marooned travelers set forward. As the boy surmised, the white strip was a road. When they reached it, they discovered, to their relief, safely lying in the gully beyond the crossing, their two trunks.
"Better get 'em out o' the ditch, in case o' rain," said the boy, and, despite his years, the well-muscled lad tackled the job. It was not an easy one, but, by rolling and sliding, the heavy parcels were soon landed on the edge of the soft roadway. The moon was now shining so brightly that the lad could make out the time. It was 8:35 P.M.
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