.

The heavy man turned on his heel, without replying, and walked up the
siding. The spare man shuffled back to the uneasy group. "Jim's ez full
ez a tick, ez ushel," he commented commiseratingly.

Just then a distant whistle sounded, and there was a shuffling of feet
on the platform. A number of lanky boys of all ages appeared as suddenly
and slimily as eels wakened by the crack of thunder; some came from the
waiting room, where they had been warming themselves by the red stove,
or half-asleep on the slat benches; others uncoiled themselves from
baggage trucks or slid out of express wagons. Two clambered down from
the driver's seat of a hearse that stood backed up against the siding.
They straightened their stooping shoulders and lifted their heads, and
a flash of momentary animation kindled their dull eyes at that cold,
vibrant scream, the world-wide call for men. It stirred them like the
note of a trumpet; just as it had often stirred the man who was coming
home tonight, in his boyhood.

The night express shot, red as a rocket, from out the eastward marsh
lands and wound along the river shore under the long lines of shivering
poplars that sentineled the meadows, the escaping steam hanging in gray
masses against the pale sky and blotting out the Milky Way. In a moment
the red glare from the headlight streamed up the snow-covered track
before the siding and glittered on the wet, black rails. The burly man
with the disheveled red beard walked swiftly up the platform toward
the approaching train, uncovering his head as he went. The group of
men behind him hesitated, glanced questioningly at one another, and
awkwardly followed his example. The train stopped, and the crowd
shuffled up to the express car just as the door was thrown open,
the spare man in the G. A. B. suit thrusting his head forward with
curiosity. The express messenger appeared in the doorway, accompanied by
a young man in a long ulster and traveling cap.

"Are Mr. Merrick's friends here?" inquired the young man.

The group on the platform swayed and shuffled uneasily. Philip Phelps,
the banker, responded with dignity: "We have come to take charge of the
body. Mr. Merrick's father is very feeble and can't be about."

"Send the agent out here," growled the express messenger, "and tell the
operator to lend a hand."

The coffin was got out of its rough box and down on the snowy platform.
The townspeople drew back enough to make room for it and then form