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Abruptly
,
as
if
in
confirmation
,
Presley
heard
the
sound
of
a
bell
from
the
direction
of
the
Mission
itself
.
It
was
the
de
Profundis
,
a
note
of
the
Old
World
;
of
the
ancient
regime
,
an
echo
from
the
hillsides
of
mediaeval
Europe
,
sounding
there
in
this
new
land
,
unfamiliar
and
strange
at
this
end
-
of
-
the
-
century
time
.
By
now
,
however
,
it
was
dark
.
Presley
hurried
forward
.
He
came
to
the
line
fence
of
the
Quien
Sabe
ranch
.
Everything
was
very
still
.
The
stars
were
all
out
.
There
was
not
a
sound
other
than
the
de
Profundis
,
still
sounding
from
very
far
away
.
At
long
intervals
the
great
earth
sighed
dreamily
in
its
sleep
.
All
about
,
the
feeling
of
absolute
peace
and
quiet
and
security
and
untroubled
happiness
and
content
seemed
descending
from
the
stars
like
a
benediction
.
The
beauty
of
his
poem
,
its
idyl
,
came
to
him
like
a
caress
;
that
alone
had
been
lacking
.
It
was
that
,
perhaps
,
which
had
left
it
hitherto
incomplete
.
At
last
he
was
to
grasp
his
song
in
all
its
entity
.
But
suddenly
there
was
an
interruption
.
Presley
had
climbed
the
fence
at
the
limit
of
the
Quien
Sabe
ranch
.
Beyond
was
Los
Muertos
,
but
between
the
two
ran
the
railroad
.
He
had
only
time
to
jump
back
upon
the
embankment
when
,
with
a
quivering
of
all
the
earth
,
a
locomotive
,
single
,
unattached
,
shot
by
him
with
a
roar
,
filling
the
air
with
the
reek
of
hot
oil
,
vomiting
smoke
and
sparks
;
its
enormous
eye
,
cyclopean
,
red
,
throwing
a
glare
far
in
advance
,
shooting
by
in
a
sudden
crash
of
confused
thunder
;
filling
the
night
with
the
terrific
clamour
of
its
iron
hoofs
.
Abruptly
Presley
remembered
.
This
must
be
the
crack
passenger
engine
of
which
Dyke
had
told
him
,
the
one
delayed
by
the
accident
on
the
Bakersfield
division
and
for
whose
passage
the
track
had
been
opened
all
the
way
to
Fresno
.
Before
Presley
could
recover
from
the
shock
of
the
irruption
,
while
the
earth
was
still
vibrating
,
the
rails
still
humming
,
the
engine
was
far
away
,
flinging
the
echo
of
its
frantic
gallop
over
all
the
valley
.
For
a
brief
instant
it
roared
with
a
hollow
diapason
on
the
Long
Trestle
over
Broderson
Creek
,
then
plunged
into
a
cutting
farther
on
,
the
quivering
glare
of
its
fires
losing
itself
in
the
night
,
its
thunder
abruptly
diminishing
to
a
subdued
and
distant
humming
.
All
at
once
this
ceased
.
The
engine
was
gone
.
But
the
moment
the
noise
of
the
engine
lapsed
,
Presley
—
about
to
start
forward
again
—
was
conscious
of
a
confusion
of
lamentable
sounds
that
rose
into
the
night
from
out
the
engine
’
s
wake
.
Prolonged
cries
of
agony
,
sobbing
wails
of
infinite
pain
,
heart
-
rending
,
pitiful
.
The
noises
came
from
a
little
distance
.
He
ran
down
the
track
,
crossing
the
culvert
,
over
the
irrigating
ditch
,
and
at
the
head
of
the
long
reach
of
track
—
between
the
culvert
and
the
Long
Trestle
—
paused
abruptly
,
held
immovable
at
the
sight
of
the
ground
and
rails
all
about
him
.
In
some
way
,
the
herd
of
sheep
—
Vanamee
’
s
herd
—
had
found
a
breach
in
the
wire
fence
by
the
right
of
way
and
had
wandered
out
upon
the
tracks
.
A
band
had
been
crossing
just
at
the
moment
of
the
engine
’
s
passage
.
The
pathos
of
it
was
beyond
expression
.
It
was
a
slaughter
,
a
massacre
of
innocents
.
The
iron
monster
had
charged
full
into
the
midst
,
merciless
,
inexorable
.
To
the
right
and
left
,
all
the
width
of
the
right
of
way
,
the
little
bodies
had
been
flung
;
backs
were
snapped
against
the
fence
posts
;
brains
knocked
out
.
Caught
in
the
barbs
of
the
wire
,
wedged
in
,
the
bodies
hung
suspended
.
Under
foot
it
was
terrible
.
The
black
blood
,
winking
in
the
starlight
,
seeped
down
into
the
clinkers
between
the
ties
with
a
prolonged
sucking
murmur
.
Presley
turned
away
,
horror
-
struck
,
sick
at
heart
,
overwhelmed
with
a
quick
burst
of
irresistible
compassion
for
this
brute
agony
he
could
not
relieve
.
The
sweetness
was
gone
from
the
evening
,
the
sense
of
peace
,
of
security
,
and
placid
contentment
was
stricken
from
the
landscape
.
The
hideous
ruin
in
the
engine
’
s
path
drove
all
thought
of
his
poem
from
his
mind
.
The
inspiration
vanished
like
a
mist
.
The
de
Profundis
had
ceased
to
ring
.
He
hurried
on
across
the
Los
Muertos
ranch
,
almost
running
,
even
putting
his
hands
over
his
ears
till
he
was
out
of
hearing
distance
of
that
all
but
human
distress
