ke apparatus
begins to pant? Old Ball has been fussing for a minute and now he yells
"'Board." Aunt Emma Newcomb gets in a few more kisses all around her
family. She's going down to the next station. The engine gives a few
loud puffs, spins its wheels a few times, and the cars begin moving
past. Hurrah! Something doing to-day. That grocery salesman who gets
here once a week is coming across the square two jumps to a rod. Go it,
old man! Go it, train! Ball will always stop for a woman, but the
drummers have to take her on the fly. There! He's on--all but his hat.
Red Nolan will keep that for him till his next trip.

She's moving fast now. The brakeman hops the next to the last car with
grace and carelessness. From every platform devoted friends and
relatives are spilling--it is a point of honor in Homeburg to remain
with your loved ones in the car as long as you dare before leaping for
life. The last car sweeps by. The red and green lights begin to grow
smaller with businesslike promptness. There is a parting clatter as the
train hits the last switch frog two blocks away. Then it's over. The
noise, bustle, confusion, and joyful excitement follow the flying
cinders out of town, and silence resumes its reign. I've never heard
anything so still as Homeburg after the 4:11 has pulled out.

But we're too busy to notice it as we string across the square to the
post-office. We have the day's cargo to digest. We have to wait for the
evening mail to be distributed, read the evening newspapers, shake hands
with all the returned Homeburgers, size up the brand new Homeburgers and
investigate the strangers. And it keeps us busy until supper time.

I've lived in Homeburg thirty-five years and more, and the 4:11 train
has been tangled up in my biography all the way. I remember the first
time I ever rode on it. The cars were funny-looking coops then, and the
engine had a sixty-gallon smokestack. I was four, and I yelled with
fear when the train came in and kept it up for the first twenty miles
after they lugged me on board. The conductor chucked me under the chin
and gave me his punch to play with. He was a young man then. He'd
carried my father and mother on their wedding journey, and twenty years
after that first ride of mine he carried me and my wife on our wedding
journey. The other day we gave our oldest girl two dollars and sent her
on her first trip down to Jonesville, by herself. Old Ball was on the
train, and he grinned at me