The night car jolted and swayed. After a time he dozed, and Anna,
watching him, made an attempt at flight. He caught her on the rear
platform, however, with a clutch that sickened her. The conductor eyed
them with the scant curiosity of two o'clock in the morning, when all
the waking world is awry.
At last they were climbing the hill to the cottage, while behind and
below them the Spencer furnaces sent out their orange and violet flames,
and the roar of the blast sounded like the coming of a mighty wind.
The cottage was dark. Rudolph put down the suitcase, and called Herman
softly through his hands. Above they could hear him moving, and his
angry voice came through the open window.
"What you want?"
"Come down. It's Rudolph."
But when he turned Anna was lying in a dead faint on the garden path, a
crumpled little heap of blissful forgetfulness. When Herman came down,
it was to find Rudolph standing over her, the suitcase still in his
hand, and an ugly scowl on his face.
"Well, I got her," he said. "She's scared, that's all." He prodded
her with his foot, but she did not move, and Herman bent down with his
candle.
He straightened.
"Bring her in," he said, and led the way into the house. When Rudolph
staggered in, with Anna in his arms, he found Herman waiting and
fingering the leather strap.