Then, only five minutes' ride from Walnut Street, Disaster showed its ugly face. The street-car's bell emitted a shower of angry clangs; the motorman whirled back the controller and threw on the brakes. The car ground to a stop.
Doctor Dumont was on his feet instantly, trying to beat down a great surge of despair.
There was no need to ask questions. Squarely across the track sprawled a huge tank-truck with one wheel missing and a rear axle gouged into the pavement. The street-car was effectively blocked.
Acting without volition, the doctor leaped down from the car and started walking rapidly along the street. The outraged passengers behind him might expostulate with motorman and truck-driver until they were tired; it would do them no good. As for him, he must catch the west-bound train across the river.
He had covered nearly two blocks at a furious pace when he realized the futility of his course. He couldn't walk to Walnut Street in less than twenty minutes, and he knew that his old legs would carry him less than half the distance if he attempted to run. He must find some other way.
At the corner, he turned abruptly to the left and made his way toward the Mississippi. He would have to find a boatman to ferry him across; surely there were motorboats in plenty along the levee. A motorboat he must have, for the river was high and its rushing current would carry a skiff too far downstream in the crossing. Even now, he could hear in the still night air the whistle of the train as it left Gretna. And he must catch that train.
The thought galvanized his tired legs; he crossed Water Street at a trot. He dashed between rows of mean shanties and found himself upon a crumbling wharf. As he paused for breath, his gaze automatically wandered out across the swirling water.
Abruptly, he dashed a hand across his eyes as if to brush away an impossible sight. He had exerted himself too much, he thought. Otherwise how could be be seeing a steam ferry-boat at this point? Surely he wasn't as ignorant of New Orleans as all that!
But the sight remained, and to his ears came the confirmatory pow-pow-pow of the stern-wheeler. In eager amazement he heard the jangling of the pilot's bell and watched the boat glide smoothly up to the landing-stage. A moment more and he had sprung aboard.
The ferry-boat remained at the landing-stage for a minute or so, its huge paddle-wheel turning over at half speed. But no other passenger came aboard, and presently the bell jangled again and the boat swung out into the current. The paddle-wheel churned with an accelerating rhythm as the black water swirled past and the crumbling wharf fell farther and farther back into the darkness.
As suspense and excitement subsided within him, Doctor Dumont realized that the air off the river was something more than chilly. He turned up his coat-collar and stepped through the door of the engine-room in search of warmth. He recognized the possibility that this was against the rules, but the fact that there were no other passengers aboard emboldened him. The little infraction would surely be overlooked.
"Pretty cool, tonight," he remarked to the engineer.
The engineer nodded without speaking. He was a big-framed man with an immense red nose. One of his legs had been cut off just below the knee and the
