The train from 'Frisco was
very late. It should have arrived
at Hugson's Siding at midnight,
but it was already five o'clock
and the gray dawn was breaking
in the east when the little
train slowly rumbled up to
the open shed that served for
the station-house. As it came
to a stop the conductor called
out in a loud voice:
"Hugson's
Siding!"
At once a little girl rose
from her seat and walked to
the door of the car, carrying
a wicker suit-case in one hand
and a round bird-cage covered
up with newspapers in the other,
while a parasol was tucked
under her arm. The conductor
helped her off the car and
then the engineer started his
train again, so that it puffed
and groaned and moved slowly
away up the track. The reason
he was so late was because
all through the night there
were times when the solid earth
shook and trembled under him,
and the engineer was afraid
that at any moment the rails
might spread apart and an accident
happen to his passengers. So
he moved the cars slowly and
with caution.
The little girl stood still
to watch until the train had
disappeared around a curve;
then she turned to see where
she was.
The shed at Hugson's Siding
was bare save for an old wooden
bench, and did not look very
inviting. As she peered through
the soft gray light not a house
of any sort was visible near
the station, nor was any person
in sight; but after a while
the child discovered a horse
and buggy standing near a group
of trees a short distance away.
She walked toward it and found
the horse tied to a tree and
standing motionless, with its
head hanging down almost to
the ground. It was a big horse,
tall and bony, with long legs
and large knees and feet. She
could count his ribs easily
where they showed through the
skin of his body, and his head
was long and seemed altogether
too big for him, as if it did
not fit. His tail was short
and scraggly, and his harness
had been broken in many places
and fastened together again
with cords and bits of wire.
The buggy seemed almost new,
for it had a shiny top and
side curtains. Getting around
in front, so that she could
look inside, the girl saw a
boy curled up on the seat,
fast asleep.
She set down the bird-cage
and poked the boy with her
parasol. Presently he woke
up, rose to a sitting position
and rubbed his eyes briskly.
"Hello!" he said, seeing
her, "are you Dorothy Gale?"
"Yes," she answered, looking
gravely at his tousled hair
and blinking gray eyes. "Have
you come to take me to Hugson's
Ranch?"
"Of course," he answered. "Train
in?"
"I couldn't be here if it
wasn't," she said.
He laughed at that, and his
laugh was merry and frank.
Jumping out of the buggy he
put Dorothy's suit-case under
the seat and her bird-cage
on the floor in front.
"Canary-birds?" he
asked.
"Oh no; it's
just Eureka, my kitten. I
thought that was
the best way to carry her."
The boy nodded.
"Eureka's a funny name for
a cat," he remarked.
"I named my kitten that because
I found it," she explained. "Uncle
Henry says 'Eureka' means 'I
have found it.'"
"All right;
hop in."
She climbed
into the buggy and he followed
her. Then the
boy picked up the reins, shook
them, and said "Gid-dap!"
The horse did not stir. Dorothy
thought he just wiggled one
of his drooping ears, but that
was all.
"Gid-dap!" called
the boy, again.
The horse stood still.
"Perhaps," said Dorothy, "if
you untied him, he would go."
The boy laughed cheerfully
and jumped out.
"Guess I'm half asleep yet," he
said, untying the horse. "But
Jim knows his business all
right--don't you, Jim?" patting
the long nose of the animal.
Then he got into the buggy
again and took the reins, and
the horse at once backed away
from the tree, turned slowly
around, and began to trot down
the sandy road which was just
visible in the dim light.
"Thought that train would
never come," observed the boy. "I've
waited at that station for
five hours."
"We had a lot of earthquakes," said
Dorothy. "Didn't you feel the
ground shake?"
"Yes; but we're used to such
things in California," he replied. "They
don't scare us much."
"The conductor
said it was the worst quake
he ever knew."
"Did he? Then it must have
happened while I was asleep," he
said thoughtfully.
"How is Uncle Henry?" she
enquired, after a pause during
which the horse continued to
trot with long, regular strides.
"He's pretty
well. He and Uncle Hugson
have been having
a fine visit."
"Is Mr. Hugson your uncle?" she
asked.
"Yes. Uncle Bill Hugson married
your Uncle Henry's wife's sister;
so we must be second cousins," said
the boy, in an amused tone. "I
work for Uncle Bill on his
ranch, and he pays me six dollars
a month and my board."
"Isn't that a great deal?" she
asked, doubtfully.
"Why, it's a great deal for
Uncle Hugson, but not for me.
I'm a splendid worker. I work
as well as I sleep," he added,
with a laugh.
"What is your name?" said
Dorothy, thinking she liked
the boy's manner and the cheery
tone of his voice.
"Not a very pretty one," he
answered, as if a little ashamed. "My
whole name is Zebediah; but
folks just call me 'Zeb.' You've
been to Australia, haven't
you?"
"Yes; with Uncle Henry," she
answered. "We got to San Francisco
a week ago, and Uncle Henry
went right on to Hugson's Ranch
for a visit while I stayed
a few days in the city with
some friends we had met."
"How long will you be with
us?" he asked.
"Only a day.
Tomorrow Uncle Henry and
I must start back
for Kansas. We've been away
for a long time, you know,
and so we're anxious to get
home again."
The boy flicked the big,
boney horse with his whip and
looked thoughtful. Then he
started to say something to
his little companion, but before
he could speak the buggy began
to sway dangerously from side
to side and the earth seemed
to rise up before them. Next
minute there was a roar and
a sharp crash, and at her side
Dorothy saw the ground open
in a wide crack and then come
together again.
"Goodness!" she cried, grasping
the iron rail of the seat. "What
was that?"
"That was an awful big quake," replied
Zeb, with a white face. "It
almost got us that time, Dorothy."
The horse had stopped short,
and stood firm as a rock. Zeb
shook the reins and urged him
to go, but Jim was stubborn.
Then the boy cracked his whip
and touched the animal's flanks
with it, and after a low moan
of protest Jim stepped slowly
along the road.
Neither the boy nor the girl
spoke again for some minutes.
There was a breath of danger
in the very air, and every
few moments the earth would
shake violently. Jim's ears
were standing erect upon his
head and every muscle of his
big body was tense as he trotted
toward home. He was not going
very fast, but on his flanks
specks of foam began to appear
and at times he would tremble
like a leaf.
The sky had grown darker
again and the wind made queer
sobbing sounds as it swept
over the valley.
Suddenly there was a rending,
tearing sound, and the earth
split into another great crack
just beneath the spot where
the horse was standing. With
a wild neigh of terror the
animal fell bodily into the
pit, drawing the buggy and
its occupants after him.
Dorothy grabbed fast hold
of the buggy top and the boy
did the same. The sudden rush
into space confused them so
that they could not think.
Blackness engulfed them on
every side, and in breathless
silence they waited for the
fall to end and crush them
against jagged rocks or for
the earth to close in on them
again and bury them forever
in its dreadful depths.
The horrible sensation of
falling, the darkness and the
terrifying noises, proved more
than Dorothy could endure and
for a few moments the little
girl lost consciousness. Zeb,
begin a boy, did not faint,
but he was badly frightened,
and clung to the buggy seat
with a tight grip, expecting
every moment would be his last.
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