Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1893-03-17

him to such anger that he did not see a
fishing-smack, which by his negligence was
forced to huff and come up again. Then
these demons of the trestle went mad with
Joy, calling in their treble voices, Lobster
snoot, Lobster-snoot, tend to yer draw"
and he, stumbling over the ties, forced to
obey his tormentors, heard mingled with
the gruff abuse of the fishermen that clear,
insistent, airy sentence, "Lobster-snoot,
Lobster-snoot tend to yer draw!
After that, with the eXasperating repe-
tition of childhood, they shouted it, con-
tent that what was once apropos was still
efficient.
1t was quite dark when Bleoo and Den
mark returned that night. They had
made good catch, and their great baskets
were trimming with fish as they came up
over the bluff to their house. A knot of
people were standing there watching them.
| Bleoos mother said something which made
him look at Denmark. Then the old
woman took the Dane by the wrist and
led him in. There on the long shining
sofa lay the little Denmark very still.
The mute grasped the boys shoulder
and shook him. The body moved stilly.
| He began to understand. On the childs
left temple was a blue triangle Denmark
turned, and making a swift motion toward
his son, looked his question. The veins in
his neck had swollen until they were al
most the color of the wound in the little
fellows forehead His lips were dry, and
seemed to stick to his teeth. His face was
frightful, Notwithstanding there was in
his eyes look of animal pleading.
The others stood still, gazing awkward
ly, each one fearing to attract his notice.
Bleoo's mother pointed at the boys
head, and then toward one of the wood
cuts on the wall. II was locomotive.
Slowly he nodded his head as one would
say, eyes, l know, l know" Unexpect-
eddy he raised the well-knit little body,
whose chest had already commenced to
arch in the same curves as his own. He
strobe past them down to the sea. They
came out and talked in low voices.
Breathing heavily, he clambered along
under the dripping bastions of rock, over
powders matted with seaweed. Once
great Napoleon gull, startled from his slum
Der, famed his face in flight.
To all those places where they had
dreamed together, the two Denmarks went
again. Before each spot, before each
scene of some pleasure never to be renew
ed, he stopped, and looked long III the face
of his child.
tering those inarticulate unearthly cries
peculiar to mutes, he threw himself down
on the rough-smelling weed, and rolled like
a beast in agony.
Suddenly he remembered the mark on
the boys forehead, and taking little Den
mark in his arms again, he toiled up cut,
heading for the railroad. He came to the
bridge and stood there, looking at the web
of iron and the gistening water beneath
The tide was rushing up from the sea.
Towards morning train came and stop
ped, awaiting the signal. The bridge-tend-
er opened the door of his cabin on the
draw and walked toward the engine, hold
ing a lantern. At the entrance to the
bridge was little tool house. Here he
paused. To Denmark's keen sensibilties
the throbbing of the water in the boiler of
the locomotive was like the pusation of a
monstrous human heart.
The man waved his lantern three times,
and the train started. The whistle of the
engine, the roar of the bridge, the rattle of
the track, all were unheard by the man
who stood at one side with his child in his
arms. To him its movement was noiseess
as the drifting of smoke. He grew cold as
it passed. Why had this thing which
shook the earth changed his child?
All through the long days at sea he
thought of it for weeks. The solitude of
his existence deepened His JOY had been
cut off with the only being that he loved.
Often at night he would go again and
look at the bridge, like child, concealng
himself not wishing to be seen by this
thing. Step by step the engine became a
familiar personality, fearfully alive, a be-
ing that breathed and ran, that acted as he
did-by signs.
He thought of it increasingly. In the
, early morning when the dull sun loomed
/, through the mists, the poor fisherman,
standing in the cold water, remembered
the headlight of the locomotive. Some
times on the level sea he would lie fiat in
their little boat and cry pteously for his
boy, the little Denmark
To this isolated mind the locomotive was
: malicious, terribly evil, cowardly, like a
! dog running with its ears down, but pow
erful, powerful as a storm.
One night he was at the bridge again.
AS before, he lay near the Toulouse, in
the sparse grass which was rough against
g his face as a cats tongue. Over him the
clouds, scudding across the moon, made OF
it gigantic dark lantern, whitening the
earth at intervals.
The bridge-tender came and put his Ian
! tern down by the Toulouse. The train
was behind time. Looking back, he saw q
: small schooner pointing for the draw
Now "Lobster-scoot" was good natureC
, man after all, so he decided to let the fish
= erman through, for the wind was blowing
= sharply and the schooner would be difficult
: to manage; besides, the train was otter
> late. He walked back. moment aftel
, the train came up. The draw was abou
= half open. Denmark sprang to his feet
y caught the loop of. the lantern, ard waved
u three times. The Toulouse was between
!, him and the bridge-tender.
u u To his ineXpressible joy the train moved
u forward 1t went by him. AS he waited
he blew in the side tube of the lantern an(
- extinguished the light. The moon stream
: ed out again, and he saw the engine anC
its one car sprawl forward like falling
: child. 1t turned in the air, the car win
3 dows flashed, there was a cloud of steam
d then darkness. A moment later he coulC
l. !; see. The waters crowding up from tn,
u u ocean were agitated, shimmering as though
u with a school of fish. Here and thert
. . foated some dark objects-the jetsam o
u the train.
u Heaving the lantern into the river, Den