Ordinarily it is a pleasant day's journey from the City of Mexico
to the seaport city of Vera Cruz; or if one prefers he may make a
night ride of it in times of peace. The train which left the City
of Mexico that April morning made no such time. After a tiresome
all-day ride with numerous aggravating stops, when darkness fell
they were still on the plateau of Mexico, some miles west of
Orizaba, running slowly for fear some stray bunch of Carranzistas
or Zapatistas might have torn up a length or two of track.
It was possibly an hour later that the engine gave a furious
jerk, followed by a bump and another jerk, and then the train
came to a dead stop.
In a minute everybody was on his feet asking everybody else what
had happened. As no one knew, there was a general movement for
the doors, as it was too dark to see much from the windows.
"Sit down, everybody," ordered the guard. "There is no danger,
but we have stopped on a high trestle."
The passengers obeyed, realizing the danger of leaving the
coaches. There was a general round of conversation, and then as
the train did not start, people settled back in their seats and
tried to sleep.
Some minutes later Billie gave Adrian a nudge with his elbow.
"Are you asleep?" he asked.
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