CHAPTER II

BEGINNING AN ADVENTURE

It was after five o'clock when, at the conclusion of the game and a cold

shower, a rub and a somewhat casual resumption of her clothes, she

emerged from the gymnasium. High time that she took the quickest way of

getting home, unless she wanted to be late for dinner.

But the exhilaration of the day persisted. She felt like doing something

out of the regular routine. Even a preliminary walk of a mile or so

before she should cross over and take the elevated, would serve to

satisfy her mild hunger for adventure. And, really, she liked to be a

little late for dinner. It was always pleasanter to come breezing in

after things had come to a focus, than to idle about for half an hour in

that no-man's-land of the day, when the imminence of dinner made it

impossible to do anything but wait for it.

So, with her note-books under her arm and her sweater-jacket unfastened,

at a good four-mile swing, she started north. In the purlieus of the

university she was frequently hailed by friends of her own sex or the

other. But though she waved cheerful responses to their greetings, she

made her stride purposeful enough to discourage offers of company. They

all seemed young to her to-day. All her student activities seemed young.

As if, somehow, she had outgrown them. The feeling was none the less

real after she had laughed at herself for entertaining it.

She noticed presently that it was a good deal darker than it had any

right to be at this hour, and the sudden fall of the breeze and a

persistent shimmer of lightning supplied her with the explanation. When

she reached Forty-seventh Street, the break of the storm was obviously a

matter of minutes, so she decided to ride across to the elevated--it was

another mile, perhaps--rather than walk across as she had meant to do.

She didn't in the least mind getting wet, providing she could keep on

moving until she could change her clothes. But a ten-mile ride in the

elevated, with water squashing around in her boots and dripping out of

her hair, wasn't an alluring prospect.

She found quite a group of people waiting on the corner for a car, and

the car itself, when it came along, was crowded. So she handed her

nickel to the conductor over somebody's shoulder, and moved back to the

corner of the vestibule. It was frightfully stuffy inside and most of

the newly received passengers seemed to agree with her that the platform

was a pleasanter place to stay; which did very well until the next stop,

where half a dozen more prospective passengers were waiting. They were

in a hurry, too, since it had begun in very downright fashion to rain.

The conductor had been chanting, "Up in the car, please," in a

perfunctory cry all along. But at this crisis, his voice got a new

urgency. "Come on, now," he proclaimed, "you'll have to get inside!"

From the step the new arrivals pushed, the conductor pushed, and finally

he was able to give the signal for starting the car. The obvious

necessity of making room for those who'd be waiting at the next corner,

kept him at the task of herding them inside and the sheep-like docility

of an American crowd helped him.

Regretfully, with the rest, Rose made her way to the door.

"Fare, please," he said sharply as she came along.

She told him she had paid her fare, but for some reason, perhaps because

he was tired at the end of a long run, perhaps because he saw some one

else he suspected of being a spotter, he elected not to believe her.

"When did you pay it?" he demanded.

"A block back," she said, "when all those other people got on."

"You didn't pay it to me," he said truculently. "Come along! Pay your

fare or get off the car."

"I paid it once," she said quietly, "and I'm not going to pay it again."

With that she started forward toward the door.

He reached out across his little rail and caught her by the arm. It was

a natural act enough--not polite, to be sure, by no means chivalrous.

Still, he probably put into his grip no more strength than he thought

necessary to prevent her walking by into the car.

But it had a surprising result--a result that normally would not have

happened. Yet, on this particular day, it could not have happened

differently. It had been a red-letter day from the beginning, from no

assignable cause an exciting joyous day, and the thrill of the hard fast

game, the shower, the rub, the walk, had brought her up to what

engineers speak of as a "peak."

Well, the conductor didn't know that. If he had, he would either have

let the girl go by, or have put a good deal more force into his attempt

to stop her. And the first thing he knew, he found both his wrists

pinned in the grip of her two hands; found himself staring stupidly into

a pair of great blazing blue eyes--it's a wrathful color, blue, when you

light it up--and listening uncomprehendingly to a voice that said,

"Don't dare touch me like that!"

The episode might have ended right there, for the conductor's

consternation was complete. If she could have walked straight into the

car, he would not have pursued her. But her note-books were scattered

everywhere and had to be gathered up, and there were two or three of the

passengers who thought the situation was funny, and laughed, which did

not improve the conductor's temper.

Rose was aware, as she gathered up her note-books, of another hand that

was helping her--a gloved masculine hand. She took the books it held out

to her as she straightened up, and said, "Thank you," but without

looking around for the face that went with it. The conductor's

intentions were still at the focal point of her mind. They were,

apparently, unaltered. He had jerked the bell while she was collecting

her note-books and the car was grinding down to a stop.

"You pay your fare," he repeated, "or you get off the car right here."

"Right here" was in the middle of what looked like a lake, and the rain

was pouring down with a roar.

She didn't hesitate long, but before she could answer a voice spoke--a

voice which, with intuitive certainty, she associated with the gloved

hand that had helped gather up her note-books--a very crisp, finely

modulated voice.

"That's perfectly outrageous," it said. "The young lady has paid her

fare."

"Did you see her pay it?" demanded the conductor.

"Naturally not," said the voice. "I got on at the last corner. She was

here then. But if she said she did, she did."

It seemed to relieve the conductor to have some one of his own sex to

quarrel with. He delivered a stream of admonition somewhat sulphurously

phrased, to the general effect that any one whose concern the present

affair was not, could, at his option, close his jaw or have his block

knocked off.

Rose hadn't, as yet, looked round at her champion. But she now became

aware that inside a shaggy gray sleeve which hung beside her, there was

a sudden tension of big muscles; the gloved hand that had helped gather

up her note-books, clenched itself into a formidable fist. The thought

of the sort of thud that fist might make against the over-active jaw of

the conductor was pleasant. Still, the thing mustn't be allowed to

happen.

She spoke quickly and decisively. "I won't pay another fare, but of

course you may put me off the car."

"All right," said the conductor.

The girl smiled over the very gingerly way in which he reached out for

her elbow to guide her around the rail and toward the step. Technically,

the action constituted putting her off the car. She heard the crisp

voice once more, this time repeating a number, "twenty-two-naught-five,"

or something like that, just as she splashed down into the two-inch lake

that covered the hollow in the pavement. The bell rang twice, the car

started with a jerk, there was another splash, and a big gray-clad

figure alighted in the lake beside her.

"I've got his number," the crisp voice said triumphantly.

"But," gasped the girl, "but what in the world did you get off the car

for?"

It wasn't raining. It was doing an imitation of Niagara Falls, and the

roar of it almost drowned their voices.

"What did I get off the car for!" he shouted. "Why, I wouldn't have

missed it for anything. It was immense! It's so confounded seldom," he

went on, "that you find anybody with backbone enough to stick up for a

principle ..."

He heard a brief, deep-throated little laugh and pulled up short with a,

"What's the joke?"

"I laughed," she said, "because you have been deceived." And she added

quickly, "I don't believe it's quite so deep on the sidewalk, is it?"

With that she waded away toward the curb.

He followed, then led the way to a lee-wall that offered, comparatively

speaking, shelter.

Then, "Where's the deception?" he asked.

On any other day, it's probable she'd have acted differently; would have

paid some heed, though a bit contemptuously, perhaps, to the precepts of

ladylike behavior, in which she'd been admirably grounded. The case for

reticence and discretion was a strong one. The night was dark; the

rain-lashed street deserted; the man an utterly casual stranger--why,

she hadn't even had a straight look into his face. His motive in getting

off the car was at least dubitable. Even if not sinister, it could

easily be unpleasantly gallant. A man might not contemplate doing her

bodily harm, and still be capable of trying to collect some sort of

sentimental reward for the ducking he had submitted himself to.

Her instinct rejected all that. The sound of his voice, the

general--atmosphere of him had been exactly right. And then, he'd left

undone the things he ought not to have done. He hadn't tried to take

hold of her arm as they had splashed along through the lake to the curb.

He hadn't exhibited any tenderly chivalrous concern over how wet she

was. And, to-day being to-day, she consigned ladylike considerations to

the inventor of them, and gave instinct its head.

She laughed again as she answered his question. "The deception was that

I pretended to do it from principle. The real reason why I wouldn't pay

another fare, is because I had only one more nickel."

"Good lord!" said the man.

"And," she went on, "that nickel will pay my fare home on the elevated.

It's only about half a mile to the station, but from there home it's

ten. So you see I'd rather walk this than that."

"But that's dreadful," he cried. "Isn't there ... Couldn't you let

me ..."

"Oh," she said, "it isn't so bad as that. It's just one of the silly

things that happen to you sometimes, you know. I didn't have very much

money when I started, it being Friday. And then I paid my subscription

to _The Maroon_...." She didn't laugh audibly, but without seeing her

face, he knew she smiled, the quality of her voice enriching itself

somehow.... "And I ate a bigger lunch than usual, and that brought me

down to ten cents. I could have got more of course from anybody, but ten

cents, except for that conductor, would have been enough."

"You will make a complaint about that, won't you?" he urged. "Even if it

wasn't on principle that you refused to pay another fare? And let me

back you up in it. I've his number, you know."

"You deserve that, I suppose," she said, "because you did get off the

car on principle. But--well, really, unless we could prove that I did

pay my fare, by some other passenger, you know, they'd probably think

the conductor did exactly right. Of course he took hold of me, but that

was because I was going right by him. And then, think what I did to

him!"

He grumbled that this was nonsense--the man had been guilty at least of

excessive zeal--but he didn't urge her, any further, to complain.

"There's another car coming," he now announced, peering around the end

of the wall. "You will let me pay your fare on it, won't you?"

She hesitated. The rain was thinning. "I would," she said, "if I

honestly wouldn't rather walk. I'm wet through now, and it'll be

pleasanter to--walk a little of it off than to squeeze into that car.

Thanks, really very, very much, though. Don't _you_ miss it." She thrust

out her hand. "Good-by!"

"I can't pretend to think you need an escort to the elevated," he said.

"I saw what you did to the conductor. I haven't the least doubt you

could have thrown him off the car. But I'd--really like it very much if

you would let me walk along with you."

"Why," she said, "of course! I'd like it too. Come along."