The Lightning Keeper Read Online Free PDF

then, Mr. MacEwan?” asked Harriet.
    â€œDrinking? Well…well I cannot deny that, miss, but drunk? Never.”
    â€œYou are drunk, I say,” said Bigelow, in the same tone as before, “and you have left my daughter alone in the car. You are drunk and you are fired!”
    â€œDismissed, sir?”
    â€œFired, I say!”
    â€œAnd who is to drive the Packard back to Connecticut? Or is the Packard dismissed as well?” MacEwan, with little left to lose, seemed to find a grim humor in the situation.
    â€œI’ll drive it myself if it comes to that. I’ll not have you driving us off the road in a snow like this. Be off with you now.”
    Harriet laid a hand on his arm. “You cannot possibly drive the car, Father. Do you not remember when you—”
    â€œOh, that was just practicing, my dear. MacEwan, before you go, show me the pedals again and the spark.”
    Harriet reflected that she would rather walk the hundred miles to Beecher’s Bridge in the snow than be driven by her father, and yet MacEwan, in his condition, was equally useless. She turned to Mr. Stephenson.
    â€œI do not know what to do, Mr. Stephenson. It is impossible that my father should drive us. Perhaps there is a hotel nearby?”
    â€œI shouldn’t think so, Miss Harriet, not one that you could approve.” He jingled the coins in his pocket. “But just give me a minute with young Peacock here, if you will.”
    At this moment the streetlamps blazed suddenly, unexpectedly, and to Harriet’s eye, as if by magic. She was familiar with the gentle glow of the gas lamps around the green in Beecher’s Bridge, but how astonishing now was this hissing electric glare that tinged the snowy twilight rose and spat brilliant sparks of carbon, like shooting stars, to the street below.
    â€œThomas, my boy, you must get this gentleman out of New York, or he will drive me mad. Have you ever worked one of them automobile things?”
    â€œNever, sir,” replied Toma in the same half whisper.
    â€œWell, now’s your chance. You’ll be doing me and them a favor, and there’s an extra week’s wages in it for you.”
    â€œBut the cable, sir? Coughlin says the whole wiring system of the cars is defective, or inadequate to the third-rail voltage. We had a fire down there today, testing it, and I brought it back here so—”
    â€œI’ll worry about the cable, and you worry about the Bigelows.” And in a louder voice now, “Mr. Bigelow, my friend, and Miss Harriet, I’m pleased to say that young Peacock here has agreed to drive your car. And I tell you what, Mr. Bigelow: Peacock’s as handy a lad with any bit of machinery as ever I saw, and he can look at the works up there and see can we smooth out our differences. He knows the operations here as well as I do.”
    â€œBut can he drive?” asked Harriet.
    â€œOf course he can drive, Miss Harriet. It’s only a machine, and I think you’ll find there’s nothing he can’t do in that line. MacEwan there can show him the particulars. Well then, a very good evening to you all.”

CHAPTER
TWO
    It was, as Stephenson had said, only a machine, and after a few attempts at engaging the motor—attempts that provoked encouragement from Bigelow and Stephenson, and mirthless deprecation from MacEwan—Toma perceived the reciprocity between clutch and throttle, and the car lurched off through the snow to the delight of Flora Hanratty, who stood on the curb and clapped her hands. It is not unlike a horse, Toma thought, depressing the throttle and producing an impressive backfire. Very like a horse.
    Although he had no experience in driving an automobile, he knew well how one should sound, and the Packard, making erratic progress on the slippery cobbles, sounded anemic. He dared not take his eyes from the street, for there was a heavy pedestrian traffic of workers bound for home or