"I have been reading of late. Your historians claim that America was settled by Koreans."
"Tell that to Leif Eriksson. Or Columbus, for that matter."
"It is true. This was a barren land until Koreans came. We conquered the wilderness to live in harmony with the land. Until the evil white man came, despoiling all."
"You been watching that Kevin Costner series again?"
"He actually wept when describing the horrors whites inflicted upon my ancestors' noble Cheyenne cousins."
"He could use an egoectomy," Remo grumbled.
"I am thinking of petitioning Emperor Smith for the return of my ancestors' stolen lands."
"Never happen."
"Oh, I do not want it all, Remo. Just all the land west of the Kutsen River."
"Where?" asked Remo, recalling kutsen was Korean for "muddy."
"You occupiers call it the Mississippi," Chiun sniffed.
"Save us all a world of grief. Don't even bring it up."
"Only the land closest to Korea is of interest to me, Remo. I do not think my ancestors traveled very far west, I do not recognize the eyes of the Powatans or the Mohawks. I suspect them of being Mongol vagabonds."
"Pocahontas was a Mongol? Is that what you're saying?"
"I defy you to find a trace of Koreanness in that tart's face," sniffed Chiun.
They followed Melvis's car through piney scrub hills. Oil-derrick farms bristled here and there. Finally they turned off onto a dirt road that ran alongside a rail bed. A freight train barreled by, and the Master of Sinanju's eyes went to it. A faint smile came to his thin lips.
"What are you looking at?" Remo asked.
Chiun sighed. "There is something about a train."
"You weren't kidding him back there?"
"I admit it. I am a buff."
"I admit it. I couldn't care less about trains. They're slow, noisy and they take too long. And I'm surprised you don't share that opinion."
"Barbarian. You have never known the sublime joys of steam."
"Cross my heart and hope to avoid it, too. I thought the only steam you cared about fluffed your rice."
"Have I never told you of my first train ride, Remo?"
"Yeah. No need to plow old ground. We have a busy day ahead of us"
"No, I insist."
"Look, you told it to me. I know it by heart. Give it a rest."
"Excellent," said Chiun, beaming. "Now, you tell it to me."
"Why do you want to hear your own story back?"
"Because I would like to savor the memory without the distraction of having to recount the details."
Remo said, "Tell me why that engineer wasn't decapitated and I'll tell you your story back."
"I will think about it," Chiun said vaguely.
And Remo smiled thinly. He had gotten out of a tough one. He couldn't remember Chiun's railroad story to save his life.
THE CROSSING at Big Sandy bore few signs that an accident had occurred. Fresh gravel lay in the rail bed, mixed in with older, rain-discolored ballast. The rails gleamed unbroken.
Melvis Cupper stood at trackside as he explained things. "SP hauler hit the sport vehicle along this stretch. Broke it apart and carried it three miles east, throwin' off sparks and hot steel."
"What happened to the driver?" Remo wondered aloud.
"No one knows."
"Anybody run the plate?"
"Never found a dang plate."
"Isn't that kinda strange?"
"Like I said, metal was Hang off for three miles. It's probably in the bluebonnets somewhere."
Remo looked at the tracks. They were sunk flush with the ground. Wooden sections lay on both sides of the track for the convenience of crossing vehicles.
"Rail's not very high."
"Yeah. That's so the cars can mosey across."
"Looks to me like you'd have to have four flats to stall out on this spot."
"Maybe he run out of gas."
Remo looked at Melvis Cupper. "You're full of easy answers."
"After this I gotta head east to look into that Amtrak spillover. I got my hands full. This was a common freight derailment. One dead hogger. No frontpage headlines. Gotta file it, forget it and move on. Way things are pickin' up, there's more comin'."
Remo noticed the Master of Sinanju lying down beside the rails. He placed one fragile ear to the rail, closing his eyes.