Title: The White Mail
Author: Cy Warman
+ +Release date: July 23, 2023 [eBook #71261]
+Language: English
+Original publication: United States: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1899
+Credits: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library and University of California.)
+THE WHITE MAIL
+BY
+ +CY WARMAN
+ ++ +
+ +
NEW YORK
+CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
+1899
Copyright, 1899,
+By Charles Scribner’s Sons.
+
+
+University Press:
+John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
TO
+
+BRYAN WARMAN
+
+WITH A FATHER’S LOVE
CONTENTS
+ +——◆——
+ +| CHAPTER | ++ | PAGE |
| I. | +The Passing of the Watchman | +1 |
| II. | +Again the Reaper | +8 |
| III. | +Sleeping out | +13 |
| IV. | +The Flood | +21 |
| V. | +Tommy’s Requisition | +30 |
| VI. | +They hoist the Flag | +35 |
| VII. | +The Labor Question | +40 |
| VIII. | +Little Jack’s Promotion | +44 |
| IX. | +Tommy flags the White Mail | +49 |
| X. | +Tommy McGuire sees the City | +55 |
| XI. | +The Hold-up at Casey’s Tank | +67 |
| XII. | +McGuire goes West | +82 |
| XIII. | +McGuire learns Telegraphy | +90 |
| XIV. | +Station-master McGuire | +99 |
| XV. | +The Coming of the Sioux | +108 |
| XVI. | +McGuire goes Switching | +119 |
| XVII. | +Snowbound | +132 |
| XVIII. | +Breaking the Trail | +151 |
| XIX. | +A New Line | +157 |
| XX. | +Coming Home | +161 |
| XXI. | +On a Rolling Sea | +171 |
| XXII. | +The New President | +176 |
| XXIII. | +The Maid of Erin | +184 |
| XXIII. | +Over the Big Bridge | +194 |
[Pg 1]
+The White Mail
+THE PASSING OF THE WATCHMAN
+ +Denis McGuire lived at Lick Skillet, +on the ridge between the east and west +forks of Silver Creek, midway between Troy +and St. Jacobs, twenty-two miles east of St. +Louis—Vandalia line. Denis McGuire was +the section boss, Tommy McGuire was his +only heir, Mrs. McGuire, in addition to being +Tommy’s mother, made herself generally +useful about the house.
+ +Lick Skillet possessed a saw-mill and a +blacksmith shop, and contained, if we count +the “nigger” who drove Jim Anderson’s bull +team at the mill, twenty-seven souls.
+ +Denis McGuire was an honest Irishman, +industrious and sober, except on Saturday +[Pg 2]nights, and possibly Sunday. He was unable +to read or write, even his own name. Heidelberg, +the station agent at St. Jacobs, the +eastern terminus of McGuire’s section, kept his +books and accounts and the time of the men. +In return for this kindness McGuire used to do +odd spurts of manual toil for Heidelberg. +Sometimes, on a Saturday afternoon, he would +set his car off at the end of his run, take his +men over (between trains) and shovel snow +and saw wood for the agent. In summer, +when they had their scythes out, they invariably +cut the weeds on the vacant lot between +the station and Heidelberg’s house, clipped +the lawn, and weeded the garden.
+ +Down by West Silver Creek bridge there was +a water tank and a pump, whose motive power +was a mule. Close by the bank of the lazy +little river stood the watchman’s shanty, narrow, +high, and painted red, like the tank, and +like hundreds of other shanties that were strung +along the line from St. Louis to Indianapolis. +Rain or shine old man Connor was always there +to show his white light to the engineer of the +Midnight Express, and a white flag to the men +[Pg 3]on the White Mail in the morning. Beyond the +bridge, a round-faced lad of sixteen summers +trudged after the mule, who appeared always +to be going sidewise, as a boar goes to battle. +The round-faced boy was the old watchman’s +eldest son, a good-natured, lazy lad who could +not whistle a tune, but who was forever singing, +“The Hat Me Father Wore.”
+ +When the old man had walked across the +bridge and back, with his hands behind him, +glanced at the block on the figure-board to +see that the tank was full of water, filled his +red light and his white light, polished the +globes, and set them both burning by the door, +he would light his pipe and sit and gaze down +into the dirty delinquent river, that came +cautiously under the bridge, crept noiselessly +away and lost itself in the mournful, malarial +forest.
+ +Patient as a monk, solitary as a bandit, +lonely as an outcast, the faithful watchman +dwelt by the bridge. To the gray-haired driver +of the Midnight Express, whose black steed +lifted him in a short half hour out of the great +American bottoms, by the coal mines at Collinsville[Pg 4] +and up to the tablelands of Troy, who +strained his eye around the curve at Hagler’s +Tank, he showed the friendly white light. +“Let her go,” it seemed to say, and the great +headlight, trembling down the long grade, +flashed a moment on the storm-stained face +of the old watchman, and was gone again. +Nor did he sleep or nod or close his eyes +until the dawn of day; until he had shown the +milk-white flag to the men on the White Mail +in the morning.
+ +But time will tell upon us all. It told upon +the bridge, upon the old man and the mule. +In spring the carpenters would come and fix +and brace the bridge, that had been racked and +strained by ice and flood. In spring the local +doctor gave the old man something for his +cough, and the old man cut a quaking asp and +fixed it in the stall for the mule to gnaw; for +its bark was the bitters the mule needed in +spring.
+ +At the far end of a raw, cold March the +old man fell sick of a fever; typhoid-pneumonia +the doctor called it, a cruel combination, +either half of which could kill.
+[Pg 5]
+It was midsummer before he was able to +take his post at the bridge again.
+ +In the autumn he had ague that shook his +bent frame and made his old bones ache. All +night he would watch in the little shanty, all +the morning shake with ague, and burn with +fever in the afternoon.
+ +When winter came the ague went away, but +it left the old man bent and pale. His cough +grew worse, and finally a severe cold put him +on his back with pneumonia.
+ +When the day set down by the doctor for a +change, “one way or the other,” had arrived, +the medical expert lost nothing by the prediction. +Like the Oracle at Delphi that assured +the king that his war would wreck an empire, +without saying which empire, the doctor’s reputation +was reasonably safe. As the day wore +away the old man grew restless. At night the +fever came on. At midnight he leaped from +his bed, seized the lamp that stood upon the +little table near him, and rushed out into the +rain-swept night to show it to the driver of +the Midnight Express. When the train had +crashed over the cattle-guards at the road +[Pg 6]crossing, the watchman went back into the +house, but refused to go to bed again. “I +can’t go yet,” he said, “I must wait for the +White Mail.”
+ +They sent for the doctor, and the doctor told +them to send for the priest.
+ +When the dawn came the old man opened +his eyes.
+ +“Me flag,” he cried, “where is me flag?” +and Mrs. Connor brought a clean white flag +and placed it in his hand.
+ +Now the White Mail that had come out of +the east in the afternoon, crossed Indiana in +the evening, and entered Illinois in the night, +dropped from the great prairie into the sag at +East Creek, lifted again, screamed across the +ridge, and plunged down the long hill towards +West Creek bridge.
+ +The old watchman, hearing the roar and the +whistle, grasped his flag and darted from the +door. As he reached the open air the White +Mail went roaring past. A white ribbon of +steam fluttered from the engine dome and +floated far back along the top of the train. +The old man flourished his flag, staggered, +[Pg 7]swayed, fell into the arms of his wife, and they +carried him into the house again.
+ +When the priest came the old watchman was +sleeping with his cold hands crossed above his +breast and candles burning about his bed.
+ +[Pg 8]
+AGAIN THE REAPER
+ +At the suggestion of the section boss, the +agent asked the roadmaster to put Jimmie +Connor on the bridge as watchman, and +give little Jack, his brother, the mule and the +tank.
+ +After that, instead of the bent form of the +old man, the widow saw her boy coming up +from the bridge of a morning when the White +Mail had gone by.
+ +Everyone was kind to the boys and gave +them encouragement.
+ +Conductor Wise, who went up on the Midnight +Express and came down on the White +Mail, sent a dog to be company for the +young watchman. Charley Cope, who fired the +Highland Accommodation, gave little Jack a +long whip, and the foreman of the bridge gang +built a platform so that he could stand, or sit +in the centre of the “horse power” like the +driver of a threshing machine.
+ +[Pg 9]
+ +But with all this kindness, the greatest measure +of help and comfort, encouragement and +amusement, came from little Tommy McGuire. +Round-faced, freckled, happy, careless, “onry,” +the neighbors called him. He found some +paint one day that the painters had left when +they painted the section house, painted the +white calf red and striped the goat like the zebra, +whose life-sized likeness adorned the blacksmith +shop.
+ +The agent, who was something of a philosopher, +always argued that Tommy McGuire was +not as bad as he was painted. He was not +wicked, but curious, Heidelberg said. When +he put precisely the same sized can to Jimmie +Connor’s dog that he put to his own dog, it +was not to punish the brutes, but merely to see +which would get home first, and settle a dispute +of long standing.
+ +When he took his red spaniel under his +naked arm and dived from the top of the +bridge when the river was running bank full, it +was merely to see which could stay under water +longest, himself or the dog. And so, behind +all of his mischief, the agent was able to see a +[Pg 10]motive. It was the boy’s unquenchable thirst +for knowledge that made him want to explore +everything, from the cave in the bluff to the +crow’s nest in the top of the tallest sycamore.
+ +It may be that the Connor boys were no +better because of his visits, but they were happier; +he was company for them and made them +forget. He awed them with his wonderful feats +of climbing, diving, swimming, and jumping. +When Jimmie, the watchman, would shrink +back and hold his cap as the cars roared past, +Tommy McGuire would stand close to the rail +and laugh in the face of the screaming steed. +Once, just to see how it would feel, he hung +from the bridge by his legs while the Midnight +Express went by.
+ +One morning Mrs. Connor saw Jimmie swinging +down from the cab of a freight engine. His +feet slipped from the iron step, he fell, and his +mother put her hands over her eyes and +screamed. In a moment he was on his feet +again, waving his cap encouragingly to his +mother and signalling to the engine crew to go +ahead. But he was not unhurt. When they +removed his trousers they found that the flange +[Pg 11]of a tank wheel had sliced the whole calf off +one of his legs right down to the bone.
+ +While the rest were busy with the wounded +boy, Tommy McGuire went down to the tank +to break the news to little Jack. “Don’t you +be afraid,” said he to the pale boy who was +two years his senior, “if anything happens to +Jimmie I’ll take care uv you. Dad says I’m +no good, mother says I’m sassy, Mis’ Dutton +says I’m ‘onry’ and the priest says I’m ‘incourageable,’ +and I guess they’re all about +right, but you know me, Jack, eh? old man! +an’ you know I’ll do what I say.”
+ +There were tears in the eyes of the pump boy +when Tommy took his two hands, gave him a +jerk forward, let him go and hit him a hard jab +in the ribs, and then, as he turned, gave him a +kick that looked worse than it was.
+ +“An’ I’ve got a frien’ Jack me boy, ’at can +git us anythin’ from a push car to a private train—that’s +Mr. Heidelberg—he’s me frien’.”
+ +Ten days from the day the accident occurred, +they cut Jimmie’s leg off, but it was too late. +He never revived, and before the bewildered +children and the grief-sick mother could realize +[Pg 12]what had happened, they had crossed his helpless +hands over his youthful breast and lighted +the candles.
+ +That night McGuire and his men came and +“waked” Jimmie, as they had waked his father +only a few short months before.
+ +U. P. Burns came with his black pipe and his +black bottle and smoked and drank and sang +“come-all-ye” songs.
+ +[Pg 13]
+SLEEPING OUT
+ +The world looked dark to the widow +Connor when her husband and her eldest +son were sleeping among the crosses in the +little Catholic graveyard.
+ +Mrs. McGuire sent Denis to see Heidelberg, +and when the roadmaster came up from East +St. Louis these three officials held an important +and animated meeting.
+ +This conference was interrupted by Tommy +McGuire, who burst in upon them like a +sunrise in the desert.
+ +“I got a scheme,” said he to the agent, who, +having grown up under a cloud similar to that +which hung over the freckled youth in front of +him, beamed upon the boy encouragingly and +bade him reveal his plans. “Yo’ see,” said +Tommy, ignoring the roadmaster (he never +noticed his father, probably because his father +never noticed him), “Jack can’t keep th’ pump, +’cause he can’t harness d’ mule, an’ he can’t +[Pg 14]mind d’ bridge ’cause it’s too lonesome. Now +I aint got nofin t’ do, an’ I can run d’ pump in +daytime, an’ Jack can sleep n ’en I can sleep in +d’ shanty nights, an’ Jack can wake me when +d’ Midnight Express goes by, n ’ne I can go t’ +sleep agin.”
+ +Tommy had talked very rapidly, and now as +he paused for breath he glanced at the roadmaster.
+ +“And who’s goin’ t’ ’arness th’ mule fur ye, +me lad?” asked the gruff official.
+ +Tommy gave him a dark look and turned to +the agent, as much as to say, “This is our end +of the road.”
+ +“I seen Mr. Collins,” he said to the station-master, +“an’ he’s goin’ t’ build me a platform +long side d’ stall so I can harness d’ mule and +jump on his back an’ go to me work ’thout +asken any odds uv U. P. er anybody, an’ till he +gets d’ platform done d’ mule can sleep in his +harness a few nights—taint no worse fur ’im +than fur me t’ sleep in me clothes, an’ that’s what +I’m goin’ to do.”
+ +“Very well, Tommy,” said the agent, “you +wait outside and we will see what can be done.”
+ +[Pg 15]
+ +“Well,” began the roadmaster, when the +august body had reconvened, “if ye’s fellies +wants to open a kindergarden, ye kin do it, but +mind, I tell ye, it’s agin me judgment t’ put a +lad like little Jack Connor watchin’ a bridge o’ +nights.”
+ +“I’ll be responsible fur Jack,” said McGuire, +speaking for the first time; “th’ lad have the +head uv a man above his slender shoulders, an’ +Pat Connor’s boy can be trusted, do ye mind +that?”
+ +“And I’ll be responsible for Tommy McGuire,” +said the agent, looking at the father of +the freckled youth.
+ +“He’s a tough kid that,” said the roadmaster, +“wud all jew respect to his mother.”
+ +“Leave him to me,” said the station-master, +“he’s no whit tougher than I was at his age.”
+ +When Tincher, the agent’s under-study, went +out to look for Tommy, to apprise him of what +he had overheard, the boy was not to be seen. +Of course he could not be expected to sit +quietly in the sun for nearly an hour, and he had +not. He had climbed to the top of the grain +elevator, he had mixed salt with U. P. Burns’s +[Pg 16]tobacco, and pinned a “lost” notice to his +father’s coat that hung on the handle-bar of the +hand car. Then he had scattered shelled corn +for the miller’s pigs. He had discovered the +agent’s marking pot, and was now lying flat on +his stomach, reaching over the edge of the platform, +making zebras of all the white pigs in the +drove.
+ +The widow laughed and cried when Tommy +told her how it had all been arranged, and +Tommy’s mother, to his surprise, actually kissed +him. Even Denis McGuire was able to feel a +pardonable pride in the boy. Mrs. Dutton said +she was glad to “see th’ brat thryen to make +suthen uv hissilf.” The priest promised to pray +for him. “I’ll stand good for him here, father,” +the agent had said to the priest, “if you’ll +stand good hereafter,” and the priest had +promised.
+ +The first day was all too short for Tommy, +though sad enough for Jack. By three o’clock +in the afternoon the tank was full and the mule +turned out to graze.
+ +Mr. Collins, the foreman of the bridge carpenters,[Pg 17] +had built a bunk in the little shanty, and +Mrs. McGuire and the widow had come down +to fix the bed for Tommy. The enthusiastic +boy gave Jack little time to hug his grief, but +kept talking of the future, of their importance to +the company and to Jack’s family. His plans +were not quite perfect in his own mind, but he +felt that in some way he must contribute to the +support of the widow’s family. He had no need +of money for himself. He had never had any +or cared to have, unless it would be to buy a +target rifle like Anderson’s boy had, or maybe +some firecrackers for the Fourth, and for +Christmas. But poor little Jack would not +enthuse. As often as Tommy looked up he +found his companion staring at him as if half +afraid.
+ +“Whatcher skeered about, Jack Connor?” +demanded Tommy, boxing the boy’s cap +off.
+ +“When ye goin’ to bed?” asked Jack, his +wild eyes growing wider as he pictured to himself +the loneliness of the place when Tommy +should go to sleep.
+ +“Aw, shucks,” said Tommy, “I’m not goin’ +[Pg 18]t’ bed at all; come outside an’ le’s build a bonfire +to keep th’ skeeters off.”
+ +They made such a fire of dry brush and driftwood +that when the Midnight Express came +round the curve at Hagler’s tank the engineer +thought the bridge was burning, and shut off. +But a moment later little Jack was at the end +of the bridge moving the white light up and +down, as he had seen his father do, and the +driver opened the throttle again. Despite +the fact that Tommy was close behind him, the +timid boy began to tremble and draw back as +the headlight glared in his face. Tommy seized +the signal lamp and stood smiling in the face +of the driver as the great engine struck the +bridge and roared past, shaking the earth for +rods around. Away the wild steed went, out +toward the morning. She had started fresh +and clean from the Mississippi, she would slake, +for a brief moment, her burning thirst at the +Ambraw, and at dawn drink of the waters of +the Wabash.
+ +When the red lights on the rear of the flying +train had drawn close together and finally +dropped over the bridge, Tommy turned to +[Pg 19]find little Jack crouching at the door of the +shanty.
+ +“’Smatter uv you, Jack Connor?” demanded +the freckled boy. “Guess I better tie you +under th’ bridge till yo’ git ust to the cars.”
+ +They put the white light down on the floor, +and began to practise their writing lesson; +learning to write their names so they could sign +the pay rolls when the car came up the road +again. Tommy started to sing, “The Hat Me +Father Wore,” but remembering suddenly that +this was the only song Jimmie Connor had ever +tried to sing, he changed off to “Jerry Ile the +Kayre,”—
+ +But try as he would Tommy could not keep +the clouds away from the face of his friend. +The poor lad seemed half dazed by the dreadful +scenes through which he had passed. It +was nearly morning. The bonfire had burned +down to gray ashes, and the boys were sleepy.
+ +Tommy took the red light, shook it, and +[Pg 20]turned it up. A lost dog over by the saw-mill +set up that awful unearthly howl that boys are +wont to connect in some way with abandoned +farms and funerals. A hoot-owl hooted on the +top of the tank, and little Jack began to cry.
+ +[Pg 21]
+THE FLOOD
+ +“When the White Mail came out of the +east, carrying signals for the sun on +the following morning, the driver looked down +on a pair of very dirty faces at the end of West +Creek bridge. The white flag fluttered in the +morning breeze, and little Jack’s arm shook like +an aspen branch as the big engine struck the +bridge and thundered by. Tommy, who feared +nothing, day or night, stood near him, pushing +him encouragingly as he shrank from the flying +train. When they had walked across the bridge +and back, to see that no sparks had fallen from +the quivering ash-pan, they returned to the +pump. The old mule had been harnessed before +it was light, from the new platform that +Tommy had designed and the boss carpenter +had built. He had stopped short and fallen +dead asleep the moment the boys left him to +flag the fast mail. He was now rudely awakened +by Tommy, who hit him a sharp cut with +[Pg 22]the long whip, as he climbed to his place on +the platform.
+ +In a little while the sun came up over the +tree-tops and touched the water tank. Little +Mary Connor came down the track, bringing +breakfast for the boys, and they were glad to +see her. When she had fixed the plates and +poured the hot, black coffee into the bright tin +cups, she allowed Tommy to lift her onto the +platform, where she encouraged the mule while +the boys had breakfast.
+ +“Say, Jack, old man; this is great,” said +Tommy, taking a long pull at the bracing beverage. +Jack gave his companion a furtive +glance, but deigned no reply—not even a smile. +“Jimminy-crismus, why don’ yo’ eat?” shouted +Tommy. Jack was staring at his sister, who +looked so weird and ghost-like in her black +frock, with eyes that seemed too large for her, +and her white face hiding in a heap of hair.
+ +The boys were much refreshed by the hot +breakfast, and when Tommy helped little Mary +from the platform he was in a humor to tease +her. He even went so far as to pull her ear +gently and to pinch her cheeks,—to put life in +[Pg 23]’em, as he expressed it. Mary smiled and colored +slightly: the first faint flush of little girlhood. +She liked Tommy, and he liked her. +Rough and boisterous with boys, he was always +gentle and thoughtful with the little girls, and +Mary, to his mind, was the belle of Lick Skillet.
+ +When Tommy had helped Mary over the +bridge, dropped the spaniel into the water for +his morning bath, and shied a few stones at the +kingfisher on the top of a telegraph pole, he +pushed Jack from the platform, ordered him to +bed, and began to tickle the mule with the long +lash. Little Jack declared that he was not +sleepy. “I’m boss o’ th’ day shif’, Mr. Jack,” +said Tommy, “an’ my talk goes,—you’re th’ +night hawk,—sabe?”
+ +Jack went reluctantly to the bed that had +been fixed for the other boy, but had not been +used, and Tommy continued to larrup the mule +and watch the marker crawl down the figure-board +as the water crept toward the top of the +tank. At the end of an hour little Jack came +from the shanty, declaring that he was not +sleepy.
+ +“Well,” says Tommy, “if yo’ won’t sleep, yo’ +[Pg 24]kin work,” and he gave Jack the whip. “This +ole giraft aint had no breakfast, an’ I guess +he’ll want some time th’ tank’s full.”
+ +A half hour later Tommy returned with a big +feed of oats in a bag. When he reached the +west end of the bridge he stopped, put down +the bag, and made the woods ring with his +boyish laughter.
+ +The old mule was lying peacefully in the endless +path, while little Jack, curled up like a bird +dog on the platform, was sound asleep.
+ +Tommy took off his coat, fixed it under +Jack’s head for a pillow, and then cautiously +wakened the mule. He dared not use the lash +now, but, following close behind the mule, +prodded him persistently with the whip-handle. +Round and round they went, the marker crawled +down, the water up, and little Jack snored like +a saw-mill.
+ +By twelve o’clock the big tank was full of +water, and the old mule was having his breakfast +and dinner all at one feed.
+ +“I give yo’ fair warnin’, Mr. Jack Connor,” +said Tommy, swimming on his back, “if yo’ +[Pg 25]don’ skin off yer duds an’ git in here I’ll come +up there an’ trow yo’ off d’ bridge, duds an’ all.”
+ +“I don’ feel like ut, Tommy,” said Jack, “t’ +mar’ I’ll go in, maby.”
+ +Tommy and the dog took a few dives from +the bridge, when Jack, who had been standing +guard, shouted to his companion to “hustle +on his duds” for Mary was coming down the +track with the dinner.
+ +Tommy, properly attired, was waiting at the +narrow foot-bridge that lay across the ditch +from the grade to the little shanty. He took +the basket and the jug of buttermilk, and Mary, +young as she was, felt and appreciated these +little attentions from the young gallant. She +spread a newspaper on the little pine table and +put down the plates.
+ +“Watcher doin’ uv three plates, Mary?” +asked Jack.
+ +“Mamma said I could hev dinner wif +you’uns,” said Mary, shyly.
+ +“’S matter uv yo’, Jack Connor? Think +girls never gits hungry?” demanded Tommy, +tumbling over his companion and rolling him +in the high grass.
+ +[Pg 26]
+ +There was no fried chicken, no green peas, +no radishes, nor corn, nor bread and butter; +there was nothing—not even chicken bones—when +the banquet was over, for the dog had +eaten the bones.
+ +Mary picked up the dishes and the empty +jug, and when Tommy had climbed up in the +old sugar tree to see if the young birds were +out, she swept the little shanty and gathered a +bouquet of wild flowers and placed them in a +tomato can on the little table.
+ +When Tommy had helped her over the +bridge the boys put the mule out to grass. +They tied his long reata to the rope that hung +from the water tank—the rope the fireman +pulls when the engine stops for water—and +then sat under the tank, playing mumblety-peg, +while the mule regaled himself on the +luxurious grass. Jack soon grew tired of the +sport, put his head on the oat-bag and fell +asleep. In a little while Tommy followed him, +for they were exceedingly comfortable and content +with the big tank full of water and their +own little tanks full of wholesome food and +buttermilk. They had scarcely begun to dream, +[Pg 27]however, when an extra west came creeping up +over the ridge. The engineer was fanning +them down the long slope in order to be able +to lift them over the hill at Hagler’s tank, when +he observed the old pump mule slowly crossing +the track beyond the bridge. He sounded the +whistle and the mule stopped, with his hind +legs not far from the outer rail. The whistle +screamed frantically, and the brakeman climbed +out of the caboose to the top of the cars to be +near the brakes in case of danger. The boys +slept peacefully under the tank. The mule +raised his head and looked at the locomotive. +He had a placid contempt for screaming locomotives, +whose very breath of life was drawn +from tanks which he, and his kind, were forced +to fill. The travel-worn engine had ceased its +screaming and was now driving madly, and +with malice aforethought, toward the mule. +At the last moment—not from fear of the +machine, but because he hated it—the mule +moved a space away. This move on the part +of the mule tightened the rope slightly, so that +the pilot of the engine picked it up and +stretched it across the front end of the flying +[Pg 28]locomotive. A moment later the mule, at one +end of the rope, received a jerk that turned +him over, and the tank valve, at the other end +of the rope, was pulled wide open. A great +stream of water, as big around as one of the +boys, now shot down against the side of the +passing train, and, rebounding, spread out under +the tank. The boys, thus suddenly awakened +by the cold flood, which, before they could get +to their feet, began to roll them over and +almost smothered them, thought they must be in +the midst of a cloud-burst. The roar of the +train was so deafening they could not call to +each other. If they stood up, the weight of +the falling water knocked them down again. +When the train had gone by the noise grew +less terrific and Tommy fought his way to the +open air. A glance at the surroundings showed +him what had happened, and he hastily dragged +little Jack, drenched, half drowned, and thoroughly +frightened, from under the tank. One +end of the broken rope had wrapped around +the water-spout and held the valve open. +Tommy climbed upon the tank-ladder, extricated +the rope, and that closed the valve.
+[Pg 29]
+The old mule, which had caused all the trouble, +was hitched up again and started ’round on his +endless journey to put up the few hundreds of +barrels of water that had been wasted.
+ +Tommy and Jack stretched themselves on +the platform to encourage the mule and dry +their clothes.
+ +[Pg 30]
+TOMMY’S REQUISITION
+ +“U. P. Burns stopped on the bridge and +cocked his ear. He knew the song and +the singer. It was U. P.’s day to walk the +track, and he was now inspecting the bridge +in an officious manner, not altogether pleasing +to the young gentlemen who held themselves +responsible for that structure—day and night.
+ +“Hay, there! ol’ flatobacker!” cried +Tommy McGuire, from the top of a waving +elm, “d’ yo’ know the trains are all over-due +this morning?”
+ +“I know they’re all on time.”
+ +“I say they’re all over-due,” insisted the +pump boy.
+ +“Well, what make ye tink so, Tommy?”
+ +“’Cause they bin out all night—ha, ha, ha—yo’le[Pg 31] +bum; that’s th’ time yo’ tuck th’ pin +hook.” And Tommy climbed still higher to be +out of reach of the rocks and sticks that the +track-walker sent up after him.
+ +This was the day following the “cloud-burst” +under the water tank: the morrow of +the second night’s watch. Little Jack, thoroughly +exhausted, was sleeping like a weary +soldier, regardless of mosquitoes, heat, ticks, +and red-ants. Tommy had filled the tank long +before the sun came up over the tree-tops. +The engineers, having heard of the struggles +and hardships of the young railroaders, were +taking water at Highland and Hagler’s whenever +it was possible to do so, in order to save +the water at Silver Creek.
+ +The stationary engineer at Highland and the +mule at Hagler’s kicked, but it did no good. +The sympathy of the whole division was with +the agent’s protégé at the tank, and the sad-faced +little watchman in the red shanty down +by the river.
+ +Tommy and Mary waited dinner for nearly +an hour under the old elm that day.
+ +They waited until Tommy declared that he +[Pg 32]could eat his whiskers, if he had any to eat, +and Jack was still asleep. At two o’clock the +watchman came out, bathed his mosquito-bitten +face in the river, had dinner—what was left of +it—and declared himself ready to relieve his +companion. But Tommy would not go to +sleep. He flagged a work-train and went up to +St. Jacobs.
+ +“I want yo’ to write a request to the roadmaster,” said Tommy.
+ +“Ah! Tommy,” said the agent, “a requisition +for supplies so soon?”
+ +“Well, things got t’ be fixed up a little down +there ’f we stay on d’ job.”
+ +“The Lord loveth a cheerful kicker,” said +the agent, looking down upon his young friend. +Seeing the agent with pen in hand, Tommy led +off,—
+ +“Screen door, an’ skeeter bar on d’ +winder.”
+ +The agent wrote it as nearly as possible as +Tommy gave the order.
+ +“That’s so Jack kin sleep daytime,” he +explained.
+ +“Very well.”
+ +[Pg 33]
+ +“’Nother stool fur d’ table. That’s fur +Mary—but yo’ need’n say so. She brings d’ +dinner, an’ she’s got a’ eat same as men.”
+ +“Yes.”
+ +“New giers fur d’ mule, an’ scissors to cut +his mane an’ tail.”
+ +“Yes.”
+ +“New oil can. De mule stepped on d’ ol’ +one—but you need’n put that in d’ letter—tings +is s’posed to wear out sometime.”
+ +“Very well.”
+ +“Red flag an’ white flag, red globe an’ a +white globe. Them’s fur extras.”
+ +“Is that all?”
+ +“No. Five gallons signal oil. Might’s well +git enough while we’re at it.”
+ +“Yes, Tommy,” said the agent, “but you +must remember that all these supplies will be +charged up to you, and your reign at the river +will be successful or otherwise in proportion to +the expense of the station.”
+ +“I don’t quite git yeh,” said Tommy, eyeing +the agent. “Yo’ don’t think fur a secont ’at +I’m goin’ t’ put up fur this truck?”
+ +“Not exactly, Tommy; but the company +[Pg 34]holds you responsible for the property in your +charge, and you must be as economical—that +is, as saving—as if you were paying for them.”
+ +Tommy looked troubled.
+ +“Do you think you really need all these +things?” asked the station-master.
+ +“Yes,” said Tommy, positively. He was +usually positive, one way or the other.
+ +“Anything else?”
+ +“Well,” said Tommy, thoughtfully, “they +ort ’o be a ’Merican flag top ’o d’ tank an’ d’ +fort.”
+ +“The company doesn’t furnish fireworks or +prepared patriotism for its employees, Tommy, +you know,” said the agent, looking seriously at +the ambitious young official.
+ +“Well, jist say, after th’ flag business, ’at your +deescrishunt or something ’at ’ill show they +don’t haf t’ fill that order,” said Tommy, nodding +his head to indicate his perfect satisfaction +with himself.
+ +[Pg 35]
+THEY HOIST THE FLAG
+ +When the Highland accommodation +stopped for water, about a week after +Tommy had received the supplies which he +had requested, the express messenger kicked +off a long bundle marked “Tent, West Silver +Creek Bridge. (D. H.)”
+ +When the train pulled out a couple of Mr. +Collins’s men climbed up the water tank. After +sighting and measuring for a while the men +came down and asked: “Where’s your flag?”
+ +“We aint go’ no flag,” said the pump boy.
+ +“Well, we’ve been sent here to put up a +flag. What’s in that bundle?”
+ +“Tent!” yelled Tommy, after examining +the tag. “Hully smoke, Jack, we’re goin’ t’ +have a tent,” cried he, enthusiastically, as he +began to cut the twine about the bundle. +Tommy’s eyes widened when he shook the +bundle open and found a big silk banner wearing +the stars and stripes. “D’ flag! d’ flag, +[Pg 36]Jack!” he cried excitedly, as he threw the little +watchman down and began to roll him up in +the silk that lay upon the grass.
+ +The company storekeeper had run a blue +pencil through the flag in Tommy’s requisition, +and then headed a subscription to buy what the +boy wanted. Every trainman on the division, +agents, operators, section men—in fact, all +who heard of the thing, were eager to contribute, +so that the best and biggest flag that +could be bought and used in such a place, took +less than half the money. The balance was +spent for red fire and noise, so that the boys at +the bridge, who never knew what it was to have +a holiday—who knew it was Sunday once a +week because the Highland local didn’t run—could +amuse themselves and the people of Lick +Skillet without losing any time.
+ +The following day was the Fourth, and the +first train up from St. Louis brought the fireworks. +It was a great day; the biggest in the +history of the settlement, and Tommy McGuire, +who had been stoned and chased, freckled +Tommy, “Onry Tommy,” whom the priest +called “incourageable,” who had been voted a +[Pg 37]thoroughly worthless boy by all the females in +the community—save his mother and little +Mary—was easily the captain. And what +pleased the agent, Tommy’s champion, who +had driven down to the Skillet to see the show, +was the fact that Tommy wore his honors easily. +There was nothing of the swaggerer about him. +To be sure, he awed the other boys, especially +the farmer boys from a little way back, and he +held the eyes of all the little girls, who envied +Mary Connor, who was ever near the master of +ceremonies, partly because she felt a sort of +security in his company and partly from force +of habit, for they were constant companions +now. This fact did not escape the notice of +the agent. It was a good sign, he said, to see +a boy throwing a line out early in life.
+ +Once, when the big flag had become entangled +about the pole, Tommy ran up the +pump ladder and over the roof of the tank to +loosen it. Then, to save time, he slid down a +long rope that reached from the roof to within +ten feet of the ground. Every one was watching +the boy, and when he dropped Mary put +her hands to her eyes and said, “Oh!” and +[Pg 38]then she blushed and all the other girls +laughed.
+ +The station agent, who, instead of going to +St. Louis to celebrate, had complimented the +community by his presence, was, by common +consent, the guest of honor. The section men +brought a push-car load of lumber and built a +big table, upon which the Widow Connor and +Mrs. McGuire heaped the best products of +their well-worked gardens. There was spring +chicken, butter, and buttermilk. The agent +stood at the head of the table, Tommy at his +right, and little Mary, by a mere accident, at +his left. In addition to keeping one eye on the +agent and the other on Mary, Tommy looked +out for every one. He was especially solicitous +for Mrs. Dutton, who had given him the name +of “Onry” Tommy, and saw that her plate was +kept loaded. He even expressed a regret that +the priest could not be there “to git a square +once in his life.”
+ +By the middle of the afternoon the news of +the “celebration” at the bridge had filtered out +among the farmers and reached up to St. Jacobs +and down to Troy, and those who had made no +[Pg 39]arrangements to enjoy the Fourth, came to the +water tank that evening to see the fireworks. +Tommy had caused the section men to lay +boards along one side of the bridge, and when +it was dark, having the multitude, to the number +of two or three hundred souls, including +“Anderson’s nigger,” stationed at a distance, +he stood upon the bridge and burned money. +If he had dazzled the youth of the community, +male and female, by day, he awed them at +night. Standing there on the bridge in a blaze +of glory, with Mary by his side, making it +thunder and lightning, sending sizzling sky-rockets +over the tops of tall trees, shooting +burning bullets into the blue above, Tommy +McGuire was easily the emperor of Lick Skillet, +grand, picturesque, and awful.
+ +[Pg 40]
+THE LABOR QUESTION
+ +“Say, Jack, d’ roadmaster won’t know this +mule,” said Tommy, standing off and +looking the animal over. “Mr. Heidelberg +says they’s just one thing ’at looks onryer ’n a +long-haired mule, ’at’s a short-haired woman. +Women an’ horses should be trimmed alike, +an’ men an’ mules.”
+ +With that Tommy put away his clippers and +started the mule on his circular journey. The +ingenious pump boy had grown tired of the +narrow platform in the centre of the circle and +conceived the idea of bringing a camp stool +and sitting in the shadow of a tree just outside +the ring. Immediately the mule walked to the +far side of the circle and stopped. Tommy +whipped him around the ring and tried it again. +The mule stopped. Now up to this point it +had made no great difference where the boy sat, +but he would conquer the mule. He made a +blind for the mule’s off eye, so that he could +[Pg 41]not see the driver as he went past, but, to his +surprise, on the other side of the circle it was +the near eye the mule used. He changed it. +The mule went around to where he had been +stopping, stopped, turned his head until his +open eye was brought to bear upon his master, +gave a deep sigh, and settled down to rest. +Tommy was angry. He now put a blind over +both the mule’s eyes, and the animal refused to +budge. Tommy gave him a few sharp cracks +and gave it up. He thought on the matter a +great deal. It was the first time he had failed +utterly; the first time he had ever been conquered; +and by a mule! It was humiliating. +He made a dummy and set it where he had +been sitting, started the mule going and dodged +behind a sycamore near where the mule was +wont to stop. The animal pulled round to the +effigy, shied a little, came nearer, smelled of it, +snorted, and then began coolly to eat the stuffing +out of it—some wisps of hay that were +sticking up out of the dummy’s collar.
+ +Little Jack came over, saw the dummy, and +asked what it was for. Tommy was loath to +acknowledge his defeat, and now a new idea +[Pg 42]came into his head. “We’ll stan’ that dummy +at d’ end of d’ bridge, hang a white light on +his arm an’ let d’ Midnight Express go by +while we sleep, eh! Jack, old boy?”
+ +Jack smiled.
+ +“An’ say, Jack! d’ you know we can give d’ +dummy a lamp fur d’ Midnight Express an’ a +flag for the White Mail in d’ morning an’ sleep +till sun up.”
+ +“An’ the red light,” Jack began, “how we +goin’ t’ fix that, Tommy? S’posen the dummy +wants a red light?”
+ +“Thatso,” said Tommy. “An’ say, Jack,” +he added quickly, “s’pose d’ bridge ketch afire, +is d’ dummy gun to put it out? Jimminy!” +and with that Tommy made a run at his +dummy, hit him a kick in the ribs, dragged +him to the bank, and without more ado sent +him down to a watery grave.
+ +“That’s a good lesson for you, Mr. Jack +Connor,” said Tommy, taking the whip and +climbing up on the platform. “Do yer work +yerself an’ hold yer job, an’ don’t depend on d’ +Union. They’s too much machinery already +in th’ worl’. U. P. says the inventor’s robbin’ +[Pg 43]d’ workin’ man. Here we’ve both got good +jobs an’ we’re tryin’ to make a dummy watch a +bridge.”
+ +Jack was thoroughly shamed.
+ +“Aint you got sense nuff to know, Jack +Connor, that if a dummy’d do, the company’d +have a dummy ’stead o’ payin’ you forty dollars +a month to stay here?”
+ +Jack nodded his head. “S’pose you made a +dummy an’ it done d’ work, long comes Mr. +Roadmaster, sees d’ dummy, says ‘that’s a +good thing,’ an’ you git d’ bounce. No, sir, +when a fellow’s got a job he wants to hold it, +an’ not go sawin’ it off on an effigy, same as +soldiers ’at’s grafted in d’ war an’s afraid to +fight. There’s a good lesson fur you, Mr. +Jack,” added Tommy: “Hold yer job an’ +don’t bank on d’ Union or a dummy;” and +with this advice Tommy cracked the mule up +and subsided, with a countenance fixed and +resolute.
+ +[Pg 44]
+LITTLE JACK’S PROMOTION
+ +“I don’t care a tinker’s dime about Denis +McGuire,“ said the agent, angrily, “but +something must be done for little Jack. He’s +having malaria. Winter will be coming on and +he can’t stand a winter in that shanty.”
+ +“I can take Jack in my office to carry dispatches,” +said the roadmaster; “but who can +I put on the bridge to watch it as that boy +does?”
+ +“There you are,” replied the agent, sarcastically. +“Because the boy is faithful, you would +keep him there until he dies and leaves his +mother utterly helpless. But,” he added quickly—for +he was a good stayer when he elected +to stay—“since you ask my advice, I’ll tell +you: Put Denis McGuire on the bridge—he’s +a cripple for life; crippled in the service of +this company.”
+ +“I’ve told ye,” said the roadmaster, “that +[Pg 45]Denis McGuire was barred from workin’ fur the +Vandalia phile I’m here.”
+ +The agent wore a look of disgust, as he +turned to answer a call.
+ +Presently he came near the roadmaster, drew +a chair, and said, as though he were telling a +new, strange story to a little child: “I knew a +section boss once who let a flat car get away on +the hill at Collinsville; the car ran out on the +main line, collided with the President’s private +car, wrecked it and killed a trainman. He +was discharged, reinstated after a few months, +and is now—”
+ +“That was not my fault,” broke in the roadmaster, +“I sint a man to set the brake.”
+ +“Denis McGuire sent a man to flag, but—”
+ +“And he should have seen the flagman +beyent th’ curve before loadin’ th’ push kayre.”
+ +“And the gentleman at Collinsville should +have seen that the brake was in working order +before kicking the block from under the wheel +with his own brave foot,” said the agent, nodding +his head to clinch the point.
+ +The roadmaster was beaten out. Presently +he got to his feet and began walking the floor. +[Pg 46]When the local freight came along the agent +told the conductor what had passed between +the official and himself. “Hazelton,” said the +agent, “they won’t give you a passenger train +because you’re a good man on freight. Jim +Law is no good as a freight man so they reward +him with a soft run; a thorn for virtue and a +rose for vice. Hazelton, the poor should help +the poor—speak a word for little Jack, the +Hibernian czar goes down with you to-day.”
+ +And it came to pass that Denis McGuire, +with one leg shorter than the other, was made +watchman at Silver Creek, and little Jack went +to be messenger boy in the office of the roadmaster.
+ +Although loath to part company with his little +friend, Tommy rejoiced at Jack’s good luck. +What distressed him most was the thought that +little Mary would not come now to fetch his +dinner and put fresh flowers in the old tomato +can.
+ +There was no need for him to stay in the +shanty nights; in fact, his mother wanted his +protection, so Tommy moved back to the +McGuire cottage in the heart of Lick Skillet.
+[Pg 47]
+To his surprise, Mary continued to bring his +dinner until the beginning of the winter term +of school, after which Tommy ate a cold lunch +or came home for his dinner. He invariably +had the tank filled, his mule stabled, and was +up the road to meet Mary on her way from +school. In winter, when the snow was deep, +he took the mule, and the sled that Mr. Collins +had made for him, and brought Mary home. +It was wonderful, the change that had come +over this apparently worthless boy within a +year. He could walk into the pay-car, sign his +name for forty dollars, and it was his, and he +was a man, all but the whiskers, and he felt +sure that they would be along on time.
+ +When Jack came home for the holidays, with +a new suit of store clothes, presents for his +mother, a new, warm cloak for Mary, and firecrackers +for all the little boys in the place, he +and Tommy had many a happy hour together. +East St. Louis was a wonderful city, and they +were building a great bridge across the river +that ran between the two towns, as wide as +Anderson’s orchard and as deep as a well. +And some day the roadmaster was going to +[Pg 48]give Tommy a lay-off and he was to visit Jack, +and they would cross the great river on a steamboat +with a whistle as big as the water tank.
+ +“An’ dive off d’ bridge,” broke in Tommy, +enthusiastically.
+ +[Pg 49]
+TOMMY FLAGS THE WHITE MAIL
+ +At last the long winter broke, spring came +back, the grass grew green upon the graves +of the old watchman and his son, school was +out, and little Mary brought Tommy’s dinner, +as she had done the summer before.
+ +When seven o’clock came of a morning, +Denis McGuire would limp home and Tommy +would ride his mule down the track behind the +White Mail.
+ +It had been raining for nearly a week, the +fields were flooded and the trains late.
+ +Half of East St. Louis was under water, and +the broad bottoms, seen from Collinsville, +looked like a vast ocean. For twenty-four +hours both East and West Silver Creek had +been rising rapidly. An extra, taking water +at the tank, told McGuire that the mail was +an hour late at Effingham, and McGuire went +home, leaving the bridge in Tommy’s care. +Whilst he was walking home and the boy was +[Pg 50]riding down (the mule went fearfully slow to +work), the water was rising fast. As Tommy +came near the bridge he noticed that the water, +in places, was almost up to the ends of the +ties. Below the track it was two feet lower, +and the boy sat watching the boiling flood of +black water that was sucking under the bridge. +Occasionally great logs would strike against the +wooden piling and shake the whole structure. +Tommy was thoroughly alarmed—not for himself—for +he believed himself capable of swimming +the widest river that ran, but for the +White Mail that would soon come over the +ridge and down the short hill like falling down +a well. Suddenly, a great elm tree that stood +near the bank above the bridge toppled over +into the stream, drifted crosswise against the +bridge and lodged.
+ +The roots and branches of the huge tree +choked the channel, other trees and logs drifted +against it, and a great wall of water began to +rise rapidly above the track. Finding the +outlet clogged, the river ran swiftly along the +railway, east and west, until it came to +the bluffs. It backed up far into the forest +[Pg 51]over the flat bottoms, grew higher and heavier, +and the old bridge began to tremble. Meanwhile +the fresh engine that had taken the +White Mail that morning at Effingham was +quivering across the great prairies of Illinois. +Pausing to quench her thirst at Highlands she +dashed away again and was now whistling for +St. Jacobs. A drunken little Dutch tailor, +who had boarded the train at the last stop, +insisted upon getting off at St. Jacobs.
+ +“The next stop is East St. Louis,” said +Conductor Wise, punching his ticket.
+ +“Vell, eef you sthop or nit, I git off ust de +same,” and, as the train whistled, a quarter +of a mile above the station, the fool Dutchman +stepped out into space and came down on the +east end of the platform.
+ +The agent, standing in front of the station +(it was a sight to see the White Mail go by an +hour late), saw a bundle of old clothes come +rolling swiftly down the long platform, and +finally fetch up with a bump against the end +of the depot. The Dutchman was in that +bundle. In all the history of the Vandalia +Line the greatest marvel is that this man lived; +[Pg 52]that he actually got up and asked the agent +to have a glass of beer. So, if there is ever +a proper time for a man to become hopelessly +and helplessly inebriated, it would seem to be +just before getting off a mail train onto a hardwood +platform at a mile a minute.
+ +About the time the Dutchman hit the earth, +the old bridge began to tremble and crack, +like the breaking up of a hard winter. A +moment later the great stringers parted, the +river, laden with logs and trees, rushed into +the opening, and the bridge was gone.
+ +Even as Tommy turned his mule the water +was running across the track between the ties. +The mule, gladdened by the prospect of avoiding +the pump and getting back to the stable, +trotted briskly away, and finally, by dint of +much kicking and thumping, broke into a +run.
+ +Tommy knew that the White Mail was almost +due, and that if he failed to gain the +ridge before she pitched over, she must leap +into that awful flood, with all on board. He +knew the old engineer, and how he ran when +the Mail was late. He thought of the newsboy,[Pg 53] +now a flagman, who had given him +picture papers, of Conductor Wise and his +pretty daughter—almost as pretty as Mary.
+ +When he came to the road-crossing where +they usually turned off, the mule stopped. +Tommy reined him to the track again and +urged him on. He could almost see over the +ridge, but not quite. A heavy mist was rising +from the wet earth, filling the wood with gray +fog. The boy glanced back, but could see +nothing. The roar of the river, pouring over +the grade, grew louder, instead of fainter, as +he rode away.
+ +Suddenly the White Mail screamed on the +ridge, not a thousand feet from the mule. Instantly +Tommy reined him over the rail, waving +his straw hat in lieu of a flag. The mule moved +slowly, showing contempt for the train. Until +now, Tommy had not thought of his own life. +He felt that the train would stop—must stop. +Peering from his window, the old engineer saw +something on the track, and instantly felt like +hitting it, for was he not already nearly an +hour late? He would not shut off. A second +glance showed him the rider, dimly through the +[Pg 54]gray mist. Now he saw the hat and recognized +the pump boy. The old man’s heart stood +still as he shoved the throttle home, but it +was too late, and Tommy and the mule went +out of the right-of-way.
+ +Denis McGuire had seen the engine strike +the boy and hurried to him where he lay.
+ +His mother came, and presently many of +the neighbors, the trainmen, and some of the +passengers. His mother lifted his head and +held it in her lap.
+ +They brought some water from the car and +threw it in his face, and he came to life again. +The men put money in his old straw hat; +the women kissed him; for the train had +stopped with the nose of the engine at the +water-edge. After casting a pitying glance at +the remains of the old mule, Tommy went +away, walking wabbly, between little Mary and +his mother.
+ +[Pg 55]
+TOMMY McGUIRE SEES THE CITY
+ +It took Tommy McGuire more than a month +to recover from the effect of his head-end +collision with the White Mail. The old pump +mule, upon whose back Tommy had hurried to +the top of the hill in the face of the flying +train, had lost his life, and the railway company +had lost a mule, but the company made +no complaint. The brave boy, by warning the +engineer, had saved the company the trouble +and expense of hauling a heavy engine from +the bottom of a very muddy stream, rebuilding +a number of cars, and apologizing to the postal +authorities at Washington, to say nothing of +costly damage suits. And the President of +the Vandalia had marked the pump boy at +West Silver Creek for promotion. He had +issued orders to that effect to his subordinate +officials. All these interesting facts had been +made known to Tommy by little Mary Connor, +who had it by letter from her brother Jack, the +[Pg 56]messenger boy in the office of the roadmaster +at East St. Louis.
+ +It had been arranged that Tommy should +visit his friend, little Jack, at the river, as +soon as he was able to travel, and to that +visit the pump boy looked forward with great +expectations.
+ +It was midsummer when Tommy boarded +the Highland accommodation one morning at +St. Jacobs. Heidelberg, the agent, had consigned +him to the care of the conductor, for +none thought of transportation for Tommy +McGuire, the hero of Silver Creek. Jack met +him at the depot at East St. Louis and took +him at once to his boarding house. After +dinner the messenger boy, who had been in +the great city for nearly a year, allowed Tommy +to accompany him on his rounds among the +various departments of the road.
+ +Tommy was surprised to see the timid Jack +pushing his way through crowds, darting across +the tracks between the snorting switch engines, +talking back to the big policemen, and even +threatening to thump a grocer’s boy who was +trying to run them down.
+ +[Pg 57]
+ +After supper that evening the boys took a +ferry and crossed the great river. Tommy, who +had found little to awe him in his short life, +said, looking over-side, that it was awful. As +they neared the west bank the noise of the +heavy traffic along the river front became +deafening. As far as they could see, up and +down the river, there was nothing but houses, +and high above their heads hung the skeleton +of the big bridge. Tommy breathed easier +when he felt the flagging beneath his feet. +He was inclined to shrink from the big wagons +and heavy drays that rattled past them in the +narrow street, but when he caught little Jack +grinning at him, he determined to face whatever +came without flinching. A boy who had once +ridden a mule up against an express train ought +not to be afraid of a dray, or a thousand drays.
+ +When they had wandered for an hour, never +losing sight of the river that showed through the +narrow streets up as far as Broadway, Jack bethought +him of the spending-money the roadmaster +had given him. Presently, near the +door of a little wooden shop, they saw a sign +that read:
+ +[Pg 58]
+ +“Sweet Cider and Cigars.”
+ +They were too big for candy, and not big +enough for beer, so Jack thought the sweet +cider sign about the proper thing.
+ +There was no light in the place, save the +little that filtered through the dirty window +and fell from the street lamp through the +open door.
+ +The boys hesitated, but when the voice of a +woman called kindly to them, bidding them +enter, they stepped inside. Jack called for +cider, and when they had tasted it they both +said it was not cider. They refused to drink +it, but both pulled out their pocket books and +wanted to pay. They had each put a quarter +on the little show-case and the woman took +both. The boys waited in silence for their +change, and the silence was broken by the +snoring of a man just behind the calico curtains +that cut the narrow room eight feet from +the door.
+ +“Won’t yez have some candy, boys?” asked +the woman, sliding the door in the show-case +and putting in a fat hand.
+ +“No!” said Jack; “we want our change.”
+ +[Pg 59]
+ +“Yez don’t git no change. Drinks is twenty-five +cents in this shop.”
+ +“Come on! les go,” said Tommy.
+ +“No, yez don’t,” said the woman, stepping +from behind the low counter and pushing the +door shut. “Yez’ll drink what yez ordered +or I’ll call th’ police.”
+ +The boys glanced at each other. Jack was +thoroughly frightened. Tommy was fighting +mad. “Open that door,” he demanded. The +woman laughed, a laugh that the boys had +never heard before, locked the door and removed +the key.
+ +Tommy was about to throw himself upon her +as she stepped toward the curtains, but Jack +caught hold of his arm.
+ +“Moik! Moik! I say Moik, wake up. Come +ahn, ye brute, git up.”
+ +The woman passed behind the curtains and +was endeavoring to rouse the sleeping man. +The place was quite dark now, with the door +shut. The narrow window panes were covered +with dust, and only a faint ray struggled through +from a street lamp.
+ +Tommy tried the door. “Take hold of my +[Pg 60]shoulder,” said he to Jack, “and pull for your +life.”
+ +Tommy grasped the knob, put one foot +against the door jamb, and the two scared boys +threw themselves back with all the strength they +had. The screws that held the lock in place +must have been eaten with rust, or the wood +rotten, for the door gave way and the boys fell +backward into the room.
+ +As they scrambled to their feet and rushed +out, the woman came after them, calling: +“Police! police!” but the boys kept on running. +They turned a corner and made for the +river. Once or twice they thought they heard +the heavy boots of a policeman close behind +them, but they never looked back. They +reached the river just as a ferry-boat was about +to pull in the plank, and leaped aboard.
+ +When they had gained courage to look back +they saw a policeman standing on the wharf +looking at the boat. No doubt he was looking +at them, and they went forward, their hearts +still beating wildly when they stepped ashore on +the Illinois side.
+ +“Les go home,” said Tommy.
+ +[Pg 61]
+ +“Never. Everybody in St. Louis knows me, +and if we’ve been reco’nized they’ll go right +to the house to git us. We must not go home +to-night.”
+ +“Well, les don’t stan’ here where they can +see us,” said Tommy, and they strolled down +along the water-edge.
+ +They climbed up onto an old, abandoned +cart and watched the ferry-boats come and go. +They watched closely for the caps and buttons +of police officers among the passengers that +passed out between the two big lamps on the +landing.
+ +“Like as not they’ll put on citizens’ clothes, +or maybe send detectives after us, an’ you can’t +tell a detective from anybody else; sometimes +they dress up like storekeepers an’ sometimes +like tramps.”
+ +It was quite dark now, where the boys sat upon +the old cart, and presently they saw three men +coming up the river, walking slowly and talking +low.
+ +“Come on,” said Jack, grasping Tommy’s +arm, and hurrying down to the very water-edge. +They hid under an old, abandoned wooden +[Pg 62]pier and waited for the men to pass by, for +they made no doubt that they were detectives.
+ +“They must have seen us,” whispered Jack, +“they’re comin’ out on the pier.” Now the +boys tried to hold their breath, for the men +were walking silently over their hiding-place, +and not four feet above them.
+ +The three men sat down upon one of the +stringers that pointed out over the water.
+ +“Hark! what’s that?” said one.
+ +“What’s what? you idiot; you’re worse ’an +a two-year-old, shyin’ at a fallin’ leaf.”
+ +“I heard someon’ cough.”
+ +“It’s that chicken heart of yours hittin’ your +vest. Close that fissure in your face.”
+ +“Aw, cheese it,” said the third man, “what’s +on yer mind, Charley?”
+ +“A whole lot,” said the severe man, who +seemed to be the captain. “The night express +is the proper train, Monday night the time, and +Casey Water Tank the place.”
+ +Tommy hunched Jack.
+ +“There’s always a lot of mail and express +matter that accumulates here over Sunday, +[Pg 63]therefore the Monday fast express ought to +be good picking.”
+ +A bareheaded woman came down to the +river, looked into the boiling flood, shivered +and went away, manifestly determined to make +one more effort to solve the bread and butter +problem.
+ +When she had passed out of hearing, the +man went on: “Jim’ll go to Casey to-morrow, +Sunday, and make his way to the tank. Having +the only decent suit, I’ll take a sleeper for +Indianapolis, but I promise you I won’t sleep. +And Pete, you white-livered coyote, you’ll take +the blind baggage at Greenup, so as to be on +hand when the time comes.”
+ +“An’ how do we proceed?” asked Jim.
+ +“You’ll be hiding behind the tank, and when +the fireman’s wrestling with the spout an’ the +engineer’s watching his signals so as to place +the engine, you’ll step quietly aboard, holding +your gun close to the engineer, but not offensively +close so as to enable him to take it +away from you.”
+ +“An’ must I pint it butt fust, er nozzle fust? +You know I hain’t never handled a gun afore.”
+ +[Pg 64]
+ +“Well, if you handle it as recklessly as you +handle the English language you’ll kill the man +on sight. Well, to my tale: Pete will uncouple +the train the moment the engineer has placed +the engine and wait for me.”
+ +“An’ what’ll the great man do?” demanded +Jim, who was feeling the insult to his grammar.
+ +“The great man will herd the car-hands up +through the sleepers and into the day coach, +where he will proceed to pacify the passengers. +Having slipped into his false face he will pause +with his back to the door at the rear of the car, +twirl his arsenal playfully, and bid the multitude +be quiet. For the further awing of those who +may meditate violence he will fire three shots—bang, +bang, bang—that shall come like the +measured thumping of my lady’s heart, when +she sees a cow. These pistol shots will be followed +by the tinkling sound of falling glass, for +the three glims will have been doused. And, +by the same token you shall know, O, Jimmie, +and you, my shivering Pete, that your uncle is +doing business in the day coach.”
+ +“An’ I’ll come in wud a mail sack an’ git de +watches and diamins.”
+ +[Pg 65]
+ +“Watches! shade of Jesse! Does Two-card +Charley rob unarmed men and helpless women? +You will devote your time and that mite of gray +matter that you are supposed to have in your +head to the parting of the train.”
+ +“S’pose some on’ shows fight?”
+ +“Why, apologize and bow yourself out, of +course. Oh, Pete! Pete! I’ve tried to make +something of you, but it isn’t in the wood. It +hurts me to hint such a thing, and yet I know +the day will come when I must needs lay violent +hands on you; kill you, mayhap, and cache +you in the waving grass, you ass.”
+ +Pete had stuck a short pipe into his mouth, +and now indiscreetly struck a parlor match and +held it to the pipe. The intellectual leader +struck the pipe and the match with his open +hand and drove them into the face of Pete, and +immediately the conference broke up.
+ +The two boys lay quiet until the men had +passed the big lamp at the landing, and then +crawled out.
+ +“Say, Jack,” said Tommy, and the sound of +his voice broke the silence so suddenly that +Jack started and clutched at his friend’s arm, +[Pg 66]“them fellows’ll be hidin’ out same as us, if +they don’t watch out.”
+ +“Shall we tell on ’em?”
+ +“Sure! Aint the company’s business our +business?”
+ +“Yes; still we wouldn’t like to have somebody +tell on us.”
+ +“But what have we done, Jack Connor? We +ordered the drinks an’ paid for ’em—both of +us.”
+ +“An’ pulled the door down. You often hear +of fellows bein’ sent up for breakin’ into houses.”
+ +“We didn’t break in; we broke out, to gain +our freedom. Liberty, Heidelberg says, is the +rightful heritage of American citizens.”
+ +Now, the boys, full of a great tale, stole softly +up the shadow side of the street, and to bed.
+ +[Pg 67]
+THE HOLD-UP AT CASEY’S TANK
+ +It was Sunday in St. Louis, and in East St. +Louis as well, but there was no rest for the +officials of the Vandalia Line. Little Jack, the +messenger boy, and Tommy, the pump boy, were +being examined by the superintendent. The +boys told their story without embarrassment. A +boy who has been messenger for a year in the +roadmaster’s office, and another boy who has +been up against the White Mail with his mule, +when the Mail was making little less than a mile +a minute, are not going to get rattled when telling +a simple story. When the superintendent +had heard that Two-card Charley, Jim, and Pete +were going to rob the Midnight Express on +Monday night, he began to work the wire that +went to Chicago.
+ +Then, as now, Chicago was the headquarters +of the famous Watchem Detective Agency, and +the Vandalia wanted a good detective, right +away, regardless of expense.
+ +[Pg 68]
+ +Now, the elder Watchem happened to be a +personal friend of the President of the Vandalia +Line, and he would send none other than his +boy, Billy, who had already made a world-wide +reputation as a criminal catcher. But Billy was +away chasing a bank robber through the Michigan +forests, and could not be found.
+ +Late in the afternoon the Superintendent +grew impatient, but the head of the Chicago +agency assured him that a detective would +reach the river in time to take the Midnight +Express on Monday night.
+ +When the last train over the Alton left Chicago +that Sunday night, with no detective on +board, the Superintendent went swearing to bed. +When all the morning trains pulled out on +Monday, bringing no help, the Superintendent +said, over the wire, to Watchem, that he would +give the business to Theil. Whereupon, old +man Watchem reached over to Indianapolis, +touched the President, and the President said, +over the wire, to the Superintendent, “Leave it +all to Watchem,” and he left it, and sulked in +his tent the day.
+ +The Michigan pines were making long shadows[Pg 69] +on Monday afternoon when Billy Watchem +came to the lake-side and caught a wire from +his father, bidding him hurry home.
+ +“Step lively,” said Billy to his burglar, +“you’re not the only robber on the road. +There is work for me near the home office;” +and so the men made haste.
+ +The lamps had been lighted about the post +office when young Watchem rushed into the +office of the Chicago & Alton and asked for a +special engine to carry him to East St. Louis. +In his haste he got on the wrong spur, and +stumbled over a little, inexpensive, but extremely +officious official, whose business it is to +pass upon the credentials of country editors and +see that the company’s advertisements are +properly printed.
+ +“For whom do you want a special?” asked +the keeper of the clippings.
+ +“For myself; that’s ‘‘whom.’”
+ +Now, the keeper of the clippings gave the +young man one withering glance, and turned +away with a hauteur in the presence of which +the President would have paled, as the morning +star pales before the rising sun.
+ +[Pg 70]
+ +At that moment a comfortable looking man +stepped from the elevator. That was the little +man’s chief.
+ +“Hello, Billy,” said the General Passenger +Agent, giving the young detective a glad hand, +“are you all packed?”
+ +“All packed,” said Billy, glancing at a hand +grip that till now had been hidden beneath a +fall overcoat that hung on his arm.
+ +“Then let us be off. We’ve got a special +engine and Pullman car waiting at the station +for you,” and the two men went down together.
+ +“Now, have I made of myself an ass?” +mused the keeper of the clippings. “I would +have wagered my position that he was the editor +of the Litchfield Lamplight, and he goes to the +river by special train over our road. Ay, over +the Alton,” and he closed his desk with a bang.
+ +“I want you to make a mile a minute to-night,” +said the General Passenger Agent, offering +a cigar to the engineer, as the slim +eight-wheeler moved out of the station shed.
+ +As the car clicked over the switches, the +young detective turned to a cold lunch that +the black boy had builded in the buffet, for he +[Pg 71]had not eaten since morning. He had scarcely +commenced his meal when the heavy sleeper +began to slam her flanges up against the rail +and show him that she was rolling. The Alton +was one of the oldest of the western roads, +and upon this occasion she would take her +place as pace-maker for the rest, just as she +had taught the Atlantic lines the use of sleeping +and dining cars. Indeed it is here, upon +these very rails, that we are wont to picture +young Mr. Pullman, with a single blanket and +a wisp broom, swinging himself into his first +sleeper, that was not his, but a rented car.
+ +By the time young Watchem had finished +his “tea” the roar of passing towns was coming +closer and closer together. When the +flying engine screamed for a crossing, the +whistle sounded above his head, and far away +in the rear of his car a rain of fire was falling +in the furrowed fields.
+ +As well might the engine have been running +light, for the one sleeper only served to steady +her. She was making a mile on a shovel of +coal, and five posts on a single fire.
+ +“What’s that?”
+ +[Pg 72]
+ +“Lexington,” said the porter, bracing himself +with a hand on a seat at either side of the +aisle. “I tell you, boss, we’re flyin’. Dey +don’ mak’ no swiftah ingin dan de nine-spot; +an’ ef yo’ heah me shout, dat man Jim know +how t’ hit ’er, too.”
+ +“What’s that?”
+ +“Bloomin’ton, sah. I tell you, boss, dese +towns am brushin’ by de windahs to-night lak +telegraph poles—we’re flyin’, boss,—flyin’, +da’s all.”
+ +At a station where they took water, the despatcher +asked the engineer if he could stand +the strain to cover the entire route. They +were holding the Midnight Express at the +river. This was the most important train on +the Van. “Tell him yes,” said the engineer +to the operator, as he opened the throttle. +The Alton was making history.
+ +“We’re goin’ through, Mickey,” shouted +the engineer, holding his open watch in the +thin glare of light that shot up behind the furnace +door that was on the latch.
+ +“Good!” said the fireman, catching the +enthusiasm that was contagious in the cab.
+ +[Pg 73]
+ +When the two men had worked so, nervously +alert, for another hour, they were drunk with +the excitement of the trip. They could not +talk for the roar and roll of the engine, but +they could see each other in the dim light, +and smile at each other across the cab.
+ +As tank after tank they passed without stopping, +the fireman would look over at the +engineer, and the driver, making the sign of a +man drinking (which means “water” on an +engine), would jerk his thumb over his shoulder, +and the fireman would go back and sound +the engine tank and show the wet line on the +shovel handle to the engineer, and he would +raise his right hand and wriggle his wrist, +which means “All right, let ’er go.”
+ +Then he would take off his cap, hold his +head out of the cab window, and cool his +temples in the dewy twilight. He had no +thought now of danger; not the faintest appreciation +of the risk he was running. He would +drive her so to the very edge of the Mississippi, +and, if the lights were white, and the switches +right, and if it were necessary, he would take +the trackless, tieless skeleton of the big bridge +[Pg 74]that was being built over the broad river. +They were flying.
+ +The President of the C. & A., by a singular +coincidence, was watching at the Columbia +Theatre in Chicago, men and women going +’round the world in eighty days. “This,” +thought the railway man, “is play-acting, and +you can’t prove it. But this,” he would add, +as message after message was passed into his +box, “this play that the Alton is putting up to-night +is the real thing.”
+ +The Midnight Express was thirty minutes +over-due to leave when the driver of the +special, pale but calm faced, dashed up to the +station at East St. Louis and brought them to +a stand with an emergency stop.
+ +“This is no boy’s business,” growled the +Superintendent, as he hurried the young man +from the special to the rear of the Midnight +Express. “Where’s your father?”
+ +“In Chicago. Got any instructions?”
+ +The Superintendent handed the voyager an +envelope containing a letter, his transportation, +and a check for an upper berth.
+ +“Thank you,” said the young man, and, +[Pg 75]ignoring the insult to his tender age, he swung +himself into one of the sleepers that were +gliding by.
+ +Side by side with the Midnight Express +came the O. & M. broad gauge, lumbering +along, her high wheels climbing the cold steel +rails that lay in “splendid isolation,” with six +feet of earth between them. The O. & M. +Cannon Ball was jealous of the Midnight Express. +In fact it was the coming of the new +line, with her narrower, swifter engines, that +caused the rails of the O. & M. to get together +on a sensible gauge, that has since become a +standard for American railways. Side by side +the two trains passed the last lights of the city, +and found the open fields. Of course there +would be a race. Everybody knew that, and +when the big engine had got her short train +well under way, and her smoke lay across the +Van Line in the glare of the light of the Midnight +Express, she whistled the other man +ahead. Under these circumstances that constitutes +a “dare,” and no self-respecting engineer +will take it. The Van answered the +signal. The Express was a heavy train, and +[Pg 76]before the driver could get them going (he +would not tear the fireman’s fire, full of green +coal) he was looking into the tail lights of the +Cannon Ball. Five miles out the broad gauge +had reached the limit of her speed. The +black plunger at the head of the Night Express +was hanging at her flank, as you have seen a +farm-dog hang at the side of a sow, racing up +through a field, with only a row of corn between +them. Gradually she began to gain. +To the joy of her driver and all of her passengers, +she began to crawl up. Her headlight +could no longer be seen from the sleepers +behind the Cannon Ball—only the glare of it. +Now her stack stood opposite the mail car on +the O. & M. She would soon have the sow by +the ear. There was not a man, woman, +or child on either of the two trains that did +not enter into the excitement of the chase. +Now the headlight of the broad gauge engine +shone full on the face of the daring driver of +the Midnight Express, who was looking back +from the cab window. He whistled the man +ahead, and a moment later the Van flyer, +swinging into a shallow cañon near Collinsville,[Pg 77] +showed her tail lights to the Cannon +Ball.
+ +Of all the people on the two trains, the man +who was to occupy lower seven and the man +who was to occupy upper seven were least +interested in the race. The former kept his +thin face, with its receding forehead, pressed to +the pane, peering into the night, and thinking +wild and awful thoughts.
+ +“What are these common carriers but soulless +corporations, oppressors of the poor,—the +poor that are growing poorer, as the rich +grow richer. Something is radically wrong. +The world owes me a living and I mean to +have it.”
+ +These and many other thoughts were running +through the young man’s almost empty head. +Beside him lay a copy of the “Police Gazette” +and a small yellow-back branded “Dead on the +Desert;” and when young Watchem, who held a +check for upper seven, saw the literature, he +guessed that this must be Two-card Charley, the +amateur and somewhat theatrical young highwayman. +Noting the almost expressionless face +and the nothingness of the man’s physique, the +[Pg 78]strong young detective felt sympathy for this +would-be criminal.
+ +Retiring to the smoking-room the detective +read his letter of instructions, which was little +more and no less than the story of how the +messenger boy and the pump boy had overheard +the three conspirators conspiring to rob +the Midnight Express. In Pete, the chicken-hearted, +the shrewd detective recognized “Epsom +Pete,” who had held up a stenographer +and burglarized a box car in Kansas City. Of +Two-card Charley he knew nothing, save the +little he had gathered from a few moments’ +observation. To begin with, Charley smoked +cigarettes excessively, and that made him wakeful +and nervous. He ate opium, and that +wrecked his morals. But Jim—“Cheyenne +Jim,” as he called himself—was a hard nut. +His knife-handle, as Watchem was well aware, +was notched for two Chinamen, a sheriff, and a +Sioux. He was a coward. All his men had +been killed going, and a conscienceless coward +had no business with a gun. This man must +be handled gingerly or somebody would get +hurt.
+ +[Pg 79]
+ +Presently Charley came and sat in the narrow +smoking-room opposite the detective, but +with his gaze bent upon the black window.
+ +“Charley,” said Watchem, puffing at a cigar +which he was attempting to re-light, and instantly +Charley’s right hand went back toward +his pistol pocket, “we’re going to have a hard +winter, I think,” he added, between puffs.
+ +“Sir,” exclaimed the robber, bringing his +hands in front of him again, “you have me at +some disadvantage.”
+ +“Oh, no! but I’d like to have you so; s’pose +you give me your gun.”
+ +Again Charley’s hand went back and his face +went chalk white.
+ +“Not so fast, not so fast, my boy,” said the +detective, shoving the point of his own pistol +up to Charley’s chin; “slowly now. That’s it, +butt first. Now we can talk.”
+ +But Charley only glared at the detective and +refused to say a word. He had read in the +various “works,” with which he was more or less +familiar, that the real game robber never gave +up to a detective.
+ +When the fresh locomotive that had been +[Pg 80]hooked on at Effingham had galloped over the +Ambraw bridge and stopped at Greenup, Epsom +Pete boarded the blind baggage, and a moment +later the black steed, snorting in the frosty +morn, was dashing away across Fanchers’ farm.
+ +The detective took a pair of handcuffs, which +he happened to have in his grip, and festooned +them upon Charley’s wrists. Stepping out on +the rear platform he cut off a few feet of surplus +bell rope that hung on the railing, and fettered +Charley’s feet, so that he might not jump off +and lose himself.
+ +When the engineer whistled for Casey Tank +he cut the cord and marched the robber-chief +up through the train. When the engine had +been placed, the detective, standing on the rear +end of the day coach, fired three shots, imitating +as well as he knew how “the measured +beating of my lady’s heart.”
+ +Leaping to the ground, he pushed Charley +along in front of him until they came to Pete, +cutting the coupling. “Come on, Pete,” said +Watchem, and Pete, wondering who the new +captain could be, followed on to the locomotive.
+ +“Speak to the gentleman on the engine, +[Pg 81]Charley,” said the detective. “Call him off or +I shall be compelled to kill him.”
+ +“Jim,” said Charley, dramatically, “we have +been betrayed. This train is loaded down with +detectives and deputy sheriffs. We are surrounded, +drop your gun.”
+ +“Just hand it over to the engineer, please,” +said Watchem. “There, that’s better. There’s +not so many of me that I feel like fighting the +whole band.”
+ +“An’ now,” said Pete, facing Two-card +Charley, “I reckon here’s whar’ we ’pologize +an’ bow ourselves out.”
+ +[Pg 82]
+McGUIRE GOES WEST
+ +Having saved the White Mail from a +watery grave in the washout at West +Silver Creek, and having also been instrumental +in preventing the robbery of the Midnight +Express at Casey’s Tank, Tommy McGuire, +the pump boy, was the most celebrated employee +in the service of the Vandalia Line. +The head of the average boy would have been +turned with so much attention, but Tommy had +inherited the democratic simplicity of his plain +parents, and, with the exception of a scarcely +perceptible throwing out of his chest, there +was no apparent change in his mien when he +stepped from the train at St. Jacobs after his +eventful visit to East St. Louis. His mother +had come up from the bridge to meet him.
+ +“Ah, Tommy, darlint,” she cried, clasping +the boy in her arms, “they do be afther makin’ +a regular little jude uv ye, so they do, so they +do.”
+ +[Pg 83]
+ +Tommy kissed his mother, and put her from +him as though she had been a child. He +straightened his hat, that had been displaced, +buttoned the top button on his store coat, and +offered his hand to the agent, who now came forward +to congratulate the young hero. It is to +the boy’s credit that he invariably colored a little +when complimented upon his heroism in preventing +the Casey robbery. He could not help +recalling the fact that he was himself hiding +from the police when he overheard the desperadoes +planning to hold up the train. To be +sure, he and his friend, little Jack, had committed +no offence, but they thought they had.
+ +Tommy had been home but a few days when +he was ordered to report to the President of +the road at Indianapolis. The President was +favorably impressed by the boy’s modesty. He +sent him to the General Passenger Agent, who, +finding that Tommy could read fairly well, set +him reading the newspapers, clipping out and +pasting on a broad piece of cardboard the daily +comments of the press upon the road and its +management. Upon another card he pasted +the market and stock reports, and upon still +[Pg 84]another the railway news of the day, the name +of the paper from which the cutting came being +written at the bottom of each item. All this +was for the convenience of busy officials. +Tommy was greatly interested in his new work, +and in a little while became expert. When he +opened a newspaper his eye swept the page, +and if there were a cap. “V” or an “R” he +would catch it almost instantly and read what +was said of the Vandalia or of railroads in +general. There is no work in the passenger +department of a railroad that does not sharpen +the intellect and quicken the eye. The office +of the General Passenger Agent is a school of +itself, and a boy beginning with a very limited +education will come out of such an office in a +few years with an edge on him that would let +him pass for at least a high school graduate. +Tommy read constantly. He read the advertisements +of the Vandalia and of other roads as +well, and made comparisons. He ventured one +day to call the attention of the Assistant General +Passenger Agent to the plain, prosy unattractiveness +of the company’s advertising matter. +He showed the ads. of a number of other lines, +[Pg 85]and famous soap display ads., and suggested a +picture of the White Mail. The cut was made +and proved very attractive, for the reason that +nobody had ever seen a train of white cars in +print before.
+ +The editorial page of a New York daily, famous +then as now for its clean type and clean +English, attracted the boy’s notice, and he read +it religiously every day. The General Passenger +Agent remembered distinctly that the boy +had declared with characteristic frankness at +their first meeting that he “didn’t know nothing +about the passenger business.”
+ +He noticed that the young man’s form of +speech had undergone a wonderful change. +This was due to the fact that Tommy McGuire +was remarkably observing. His daily intercourse +was with the higher clerks and officials +of the road. These men were his teachers,—these +and the great editor in Nassau Street, +whom he had never seen.
+ +When winter and the dull times came, the +General Passenger Agent persuaded Tommy to +go to school. He objected to losing so much +time, but, when assured that he could have his +[Pg 86]old place back in the spring, with an increase +of pay, he consented. He attended a little +college for boys, in St. Louis.
+ +Tommy was as industrious in school as he +had been in the office, and came back to his +desk much improved. For three years he attended +school in winter and worked in the +office of the General Passenger Agent in summer. +He was no longer the office boy, but the +“Advertising Manager” for the passenger department +of the line.
+ +His friend, little Jack, having outgrown the +clothes of a messenger boy, was now braking on +a through passenger run, and so the boys renewed +their acquaintance. Jack was also a +great reader. His leisure hours were devoted +to the study of the labor problem. He was +much worried over the prospects of the workingman. +He was one of those good, misguided +souls who are ever on the alert for a grievance. +Peace appeared to trouble his mind. “But +what’s the good of it all?” Tommy would ask.
+ +“Mutual protection to elevate the general +tone of the workingman.”
+ +“But, if everybody works and succeeds, we’ll +[Pg 87]all be at the front, Jack, old boy. My notion +is that a great deal depends upon individual +effort.”
+ +But Jack would not be comforted. He gave +so much time and thought to his brother brakemen +that he neglected his own job. He would +forget his flags, and one night went out on the +Midnight Express with no oil in his lamps. He +had been reported by the conductor, but the +trainmaster, knowing the sad history of his +family, let him off with a sharp lecture. But a +man in train service must have his mind on his +work, and so it fell out that the pale, thoughtful +Jack forgot to close the switch at Greenville +one night, and put a fast freight, that was following +the express, in the ditch.
+ +For that inexcusable carelessness he was discharged, +and it was not until Tommy had almost +exhausted his influence at the general office that +he was re-employed as flagman on a work-train.
+ +Mary, Jack’s sister, had written Tommy from +the convent at St. Louis, urging him to help her +unfortunate brother, who seemed to be in bad +repute with the officials, who apparently had +forgotten that poor Jack “had risked his life” +[Pg 88]to save the Midnight Express from train robbers +when a mere boy.
+ +Tommy, remembering the sad face of the +girl who had been the one close friend of his +brief childhood, did what he could for her +brother, but he would have done that without +the letter.
+ +Out of his savings Tommy had helped his +father to build a new house at Silver Creek, and +when he saw the old folks comfortably settled +in it, he was contented, or as nearly so as an +ambitious, aspiring youth looking for promotion +can be.
+ +Alas, for the uncertainty of railroading! +Eternal vigilance, it may be said, is the price +of a job. A man must so live and work, that +when he leaves one road another will be waiting +for him.
+ +The Vandalia elected a new President. A +new General Manager was appointed and a +general cleaning out followed.
+ +The Passenger Agent, who had taken so +much interest in Tommy, retired for a time, and +Tommy determined to go West and grow up +with the railroads of that region.
+ +[Pg 89]
+ +He made a long visit at St. Jacobs, and found +that his little sweetheart was dead to the world. +She had taken the veil, and so shut herself away +from the world that had ever seemed hard and +heartless to her.
+ +It was with a sense of pride and a shade of +sadness that the agent at St. Jacobs said good-bye +to his protégé, who boarded the Highland +accommodation with a heart full of hope and a +ticket for Denver.
+ +[Pg 90]
+McGUIRE LEARNS TELEGRAPHY
+ +Omaha hung out the first flag on young +McGuire as he hurried westward in the +wake of the Star of Empire. Looking far into +the future he saw the necessity of learning the +language of the wire that had just been stretched +across the plains. There were schools of telegraphy, +but he chose the office, and, having +shown good letters and a disposition to work, +he was given employment, or rather an opportunity +to learn the business.
+ +Being accustomed to office work he soon +fitted in, and made friends with all the operators, +which helped him greatly. The present +General Manager of the great line that at that +time had just been opened to the Rocky Mountains, +it is said, was one of the old employees +who gave aid and encouragement to the young +railroader: and the venerable President of the +Gould system in the West recalls with pride that +Tom McGuire was once an operator in his +[Pg 91]office at Omaha. To be sure there are many, +many more who rocked the cradle of our hero, +but of these above mentioned we know. The +successful railway man is often amazed at the +number of officials who “made him,” just as +the great writer is constantly crossing the trail +of the man who “discovered” him.
+ +When McGuire had mastered the key he was +given a station. He was duly appointed station-master, +ticket agent, operator, yardmaster, head +switchman, and superintendent of the windmill +and water tank at Plainfield, far out on the +plains.
+ +Carefully and tenderly the superintendent of +telegraph broke the news to the young man that +he would have to sleep in the depot, and would, +until some enterprising caterer opened a hotel, +be obliged to do his own cooking. The depot +had “filled” walls, the superintendent said, so +there would be little danger. Upon inquiry, +the young man learned that the station was +built of boards, outside and inside, with four +inches of sand between them.
+ +“What’s that for?” asked McGuire.
+ +“Oh, to keep out the cold and—things. +[Pg 92]But you must not rely wholly upon that. You +must work and sleep in your six-shooters and +keep your rifle in easy reach, day and night.”
+ +McGuire believed, until it was too late to +back out of an ugly job, that the superintendent +of telegraph was only having fun with him.
+ +Three days later, when the west-bound passenger +train stopped at Plainfield, the new +station agent stepped off. The express messenger +kicked off a bundle of bedding and a +few boxes of supplies, some flour and bacon, +and a small cook stove.
+ +McGuire cast one sweeping glance over +Plainfield, and turning to the brakeman, asked: +“Where’s the station?”
+ +For answer the brakeman gave the operator +a withering look, and then putting his gloved +hand upon the little board shanty that stood +beside the track, said: “Johnny, you mus’ be +goin’ bline! here’s yer station, see? right +here.”
+ +At that moment the train pulled out, and +when the station agent had glanced up and +down the track and out over the plain on either +side, he realized that the brakeman had told +[Pg 93]the truth, for, if we except the windmill and the +water tank, this was the only “improvement” +at Plainfield.
+ +Down the track he could see the rear end +of the departing train, contracting and sinking +nearer and nearer to earth. Faint and far +away came the roar of wheels, and even as he +looked, the last car dropped below the line of +the horizon, the sound ceased, and he listened +for other sounds, but there were none. He +looked longingly to see some living thing, but +there was neither bird nor beast in sight. He +glanced along the level plain that lay cold and +gray at the end of autumn, but there was not a +living, moving thing upon the earth, not even +a snake or horned toad. A timid man would +have been helpless with fear, but young McGuire +was one of those rare beings who never +knew that feeling in the least. What impressed +him now was the unutterable dreariness of the +place. His whole being was filled with a sense +of loneliness, hitherto unknown to him. Seated +upon one of the boxes, he was gazing at the +ground, when, to his great relief, a little brown +animal with dark stripes down its back came +[Pg 94]from under the shanty, sat on the end of a tie, +and looked at him. It was no larger than a +small rat, but it lived and moved, and it was +welcome. Now, if this thing could live in this +desert alone, a man ought to exist, and the +operator took heart.
+ +Fishing a key from his pocket that had a tag +upon which was written “Plainfield,” he unlocked +the big padlock and pushed the door +open. As he did so he noticed that the door, +which was also “filled,” and thick like the +door of a refrigerator car, was full of holes. +Walking ’round the house he found that the +outer walls were perforated. The holes, he +reasoned, must have been made by things. He +remembered that the superintendent of telegraph +had said that the sand was put between +the walls “to keep out the cold—and things.” +Coming round to the door again he went in. +The place had been occupied before. There +was a chair and a table and some twisted wire, +but the telegraph instrument had been taken +away. A small coal stove, red with rust, stood +on the floor. The floor was also rusty. No, it +was not rust; it was blood. So the agent, too, +[Pg 95]had been taken away. McGuire examined the +walls, and noticed with a feeling of satisfaction +that none of the things had penetrated the +inner boards.
+ +In a low lean-to he found fuel, and concluded +to unpack and make the best of the +hard lay-out, for McGuire was not a quitter. +With a rusty hatchet that he had unearthed in +the shed he began opening his freight. The +first long box contained a rifle, two six-shooters, +and many rounds of ammunition. Another +held sugar and coffee, and from a third he got +a neat medicine chest that contained cotton +bandages and liniment. Scenting the biscuits +and bacon, the little brown squirrel came nosing +’round the freight, and the agent, appreciating +its company, gave it bits of cracker, and gained +a companion. The first work of the operator +was to examine his fire-arms and load them. +He was not an expert with a rifle, but he had +been three winters in St. Louis, and he reasoned +that a man who could hit a snipe on the wing +with a shot-gun ought to be able to hit a Sioux +on his door-sill with a six-shooter.
+ +When he had carried all his belongings into +[Pg 96]the shanty and the shed, and had spread his +bedding upon the hard board bunk, he sat +down upon an empty box to think. The sun, +big and red, was burning down the west at +the end of a short squaw-summer day. Out +of the east the shades of night came creeping +across the sea of sage-brush, and the operator +turned to contemplate the glory of the sunset. +When the red disc was cut in half by the line +of the horizon, the lone man fixed his eyes upon +it and held them there. Far out on the plain, +a long, lean animal, that looked to be part +sheep and the rest dog, limped across the face +of the falling sun, and immediately disappeared +in the gloaming.
+ +The operator entered the shanty, and in +the fading light tried to connect his instrument +to the broken wire that was upon the +pine table. On the morrow a man would +come from Kearney and fix it for him; but +McGuire was lonely. If he could talk to +Omaha, two or three hundred miles away, the +operator there would be company for him. +He worked patiently until it was dark, and +then lighted his lamp. He had been so interested[Pg 97] +in the wire that he had forgotten to +cook supper. He made coffee and ate some +crackers and a short roll of indefinite meat. +Presently he heard the roar of an approaching +train. He opened the door. The rails were +clicking as though they were out in a hail-storm. +Now they began to sing, and a moment +later the fast mail crashed by and showed her +tail lights to the agent at Plainfield. It was +eleven o’clock when the young operator got +his instrument connected and in shape to talk +to Omaha. The next moment brought answer +to his call, and a great load was lifted +from the young man’s mind. He no longer +felt lonely, for he could hear the wire talking +to him, and it gave him courage. He turned +to the west and called up station after station, +and they all answered cheerily and gave him +welcome over the wire. The operators along +the line knew him for a new man, but they +knew he was no coward or he would not be +sleeping out in that manner. Presently, when +the wire was free, they began to jolly the new +agent. Kearney advised him to take off his +boots when he went to bed, so as to avoid the +[Pg 98]chance of dying with them on. North Platte +told him to put his hair outside the door, so +the Sioux could get it without waking him. +“Oh, you’ll like the place,” said Lincoln; +“good night.”
+ +McGuire made no answer to these playful +shots. The situation, from his point of view, +was far from funny.
+ +Having barred the doors and placed his fire-arms +within easy reach, the agent at Plainfield +rolled up in his blankets and tried to sleep. +Far out on the desert he heard a lone wolf +howl. That, thought he, is the shadow that +crossed the sun.
+ +[Pg 99]
+STATION-MASTER McGUIRE
+ +The new station agent at Plainfield saw +the sun rise on the morrow of his first +night on the plains. He had watched it sinking +in the sage-covered Sahara on the previous +evening with a feeling of loneliness, and now +he welcomed the return of day with all the +enthusiasm of his youthful nature. He almost +enjoyed the novelty of preparing his own +breakfast, of bread, bacon, and black coffee. +A long freight lumbered by, and the conductor, +hanging low from the corner of the way-car, +dropped off a delay report, and the operator +scanned it eagerly. When the caboose had +dropped from the horizon he sat down and +told Omaha how a dragging brake-beam had +ditched a car of ore and he was glad, for it +gave him something to do and an opportunity +to show his usefulness; but he didn’t send that +over the wire. He busied himself putting +things to rights in his bachelor home, and it +[Pg 100]was noon before the day had seemed fairly +begun. When the west-bound passenger train +came by the express car gave up a full kit of +tools to the station-master. An axe, a hammer, +a saw, a pick and shovel, and a case of +eggs. The Union Pacific Company was liberal +with the men who helped them to open the +great trail across the plains, and helped them +to keep it open. McGuire watched the train, +as he had watched each and every train that +had come and gone since his arrival, until the +rear car sank below the level of the plain. +When he prepared his supper his little friend, +the ground squirrel, came and sat in the door +and ate crumbs. When the shadows began +to creep across the plain from the east the +agent sat by the door of his hut and watched +the twilight deepen on the dreary plain. Between +him and the glow in the west that +marked the spot where the sun went down, he +saw the same gaunt shadow that he had seen +limping across the face of the sun on the previous +evening. Still farther away he saw a +horse outlined against the pink sky. Its rider +sat, a bunchy, bareheaded being, that might +[Pg 101]be half man and half bear. The agent could +make out that the horseman wore a blanket +and feathers, and that he was gazing at the +little station. McGuire had been aiming at +the coyote when the Indian came up out of +the west, where all things seemed to come +from, if we save the sun, and now, to show +the skulking Sioux that he was armed, he let +go at the wolf. It was a long shot, but the +boy had aimed well, having the pink sky beyond, +and the wolf leaped high and fell dead, +only a thousand feet from the Sioux. The +Indian having marked the performance of the +marksman, turned his horse’s head and rode +slowly away to the north. The agent knew +that the Government troops had been battling +with the Sioux over on Pole Creek, and made +no doubt that this was a scout from the dangerous +tribe. He would have reported the incident +to Omaha, but he was afraid of being +laughed at over the wire by the other operators +along the line. Sitting there in the twilight +he began to wonder what he should do if this +Indian came back with a few dozen or a few +hundred followers. He could bar the door +[Pg 102]and kill a few while they stormed the station, +but when they had kindled a fire under the +shack he must surely perish in the flames. It +was not a pretty picture, and he determined +to go to work at once upon a more substantial +fortification. He dreaded the dreary darkness +of the house, and so sat in the twilight until +the gold faded from the sunset and the little +brown mouse went away to bed. “God takes +care of the little squirrel,” mused McGuire, +“and he’ll take care of me as well;” and he +too went to bed, but not to sleep. He lay +awake planning how best to fortify the place. +After dwelling upon, and then dismissing, +many schemes, he decided to dig a tunnel from +beneath the floor of the shed, under the railroad +track and across to the water tank. If +the Sioux came he could make a hard fight and +then take to the tunnel and hide in the tank, +for they would not be apt to burn that, having +their eyes upon the burning station, watching +for the agent to come out and be killed. His +first plan was to dig out the tunnel without +disturbing the surface of the ground, but that +would take too long. He would work from +[Pg 103]the top, making a short section each day and +covering the ditch over with boards and dirt +as he went along, so that if any Sioux should +come scouting about they might not know of +the tunnel. Away off to the west he heard a +wolf howl. The cry of the coyote was answered +by another nearer the station, and by another +and yet another still farther away. Presently +he heard a low scratching on the outer shed +door, and, after a long time, he fell asleep.
+ +The sun was shining when the agent woke. +The brown squirrel was sitting in the centre of +the room, waiting for his breakfast.
+ +When McGuire had made breakfast the +squirrel came and ate from the agent’s hand. +Having finished his morning meal and reported +the through freight on time, the station-master +got out his pick and shovel and began his +tunnel. First he made a trap door in the floor +of the shed and excavated a place to drop +into. Going out he measured off the distance +to the tank. It was sixty feet, and he set himself +the task of doing twenty feet a day and +covering up the sign.
+ +[Pg 104]
+ +On the second morning he was stiff and +lame, and his hands were so sore that he could +scarcely close his fingers on the pick handle, +but he worked on, and at night had the tunnel +completed under the track. At the close of +the third day he went into the shed, dropped +to the mouth of the tunnel, crawled through, +and came out in the base of the water tank +that was boarded up from the ground to the +tank proper. Before retiring he carried a +goodly supply of cartridges and stored them in +the framework of the tank near the top, and +then sat down to watch the sunset. The same +glory flooded the west, and when the sun was +down the same gaunt shadows came and stood +in the gloaming, only more of them. They +had begun to scent the food supply at the +station and so grew less timid. The agent +had by this time determined that it was only +a waste of ammunition to shoot the hungry +brutes, and when he showed no fight the +wolves came so near that he could have +reached them with a stone. Far away he +thought he heard the roar of an approaching +train. The muffled sound grew louder, but +[Pg 105]looking where the two shining threads of steel +drew close together, and dipped down into +the desert, he could see no break on the +horizon. Sweeping the plain with his eager +eyes he saw a black something coming out of +the north-west. It looked like a low black +cloud just rising from the earth. The strange +sound grew louder, and the agent thought of +the sudden storms of which he had read, but +the quiet sky gave no sign of storm. Already +he could see a big star burning in the west. +The growling cloud came nearer with each +passing moment, but still lay close to the +sage-brush. It grew broader but no higher, +and in its wake a gray fog arose, like the mist +that hangs over a swamp on a summer’s +morning. Higher and higher the gray cloud +rose, trailing behind the black one, like the +smoke from a locomotive. In a little while it +covered the whole west and shut out the light +from the far pink sky. The wolves, lifting their +heads, listened to the roar of the advancing +cloud. The darkness deepened as the roar of +the cloud increased. The agent, with his rifle +resting on his arm, stood and stared down the +[Pg 106]plain. A moment later the head of the cloud +swept across the track just below the water +tank. It looked like a regiment of cavalry +riding the desert. It must be so, for he could +hear hoofs rattling over the rails and cross-ties. +Now the agent observed that they were +riderless horses,—horses with horns,—and realized +that this was no cloud, but a band of +buffalo. He could see neither the beginning +nor the end of the herd, and raising his rifle +he began pumping lead into the flying band. +With a great crash one of the animals drove its +head against the base of the water tank and +then lay still while the drove galloped past. +The roar of ten thousand feet beating the desert, +the wild snorts of the wounded brutes, and +the mad rush of the flying mass, so excited the +agent that he ran forward firing as he went into +the dark and roaring flood. Presently the +noise began to die down, and the agent, standing +in a cloud of dust, knew that the end had +come and that the dark cloud was vanishing +down the desert.
+ +When the dust had fallen McGuire found a +fine calf that had driven its poor head against +[Pg 107]the tank and broken its neck. There was not +a scratch upon its hide, so all his bullets had +gone wide of the mark or had been carried +away under the shaggy coats of the wild cattle. +Here was fresh meat for the agent, but before +he could remove the animal’s robe the hungry +wolves were pressing about in the twilight. +They grew so bold that McGuire was obliged to +take what he could carry and fly for the house. +Before he could reach the door the wolves were +snapping and fighting over the feast. Their +howls and cries brought a great band, and when +they had finished with what was left outside +they came clawing at the shed door, demanding +the agent’s share. It was many hours before +he could find relief from the din in unquiet +dreams.
+ +[Pg 108]
+THE COMING OF THE SIOUX
+ +McGuire had been at Plainfield just a +month, and had begun to believe that +the place was not so dangerous after all. +He was watching the sunset, and the darkness +deepening upon the desert waste one +evening, when he saw a speck upon the +plain just where the earth met the sky. It +was a shapeless bunch, too big for a wolf +and too small, he thought, for a horse. As +he looked it moved along the plain to the +north-west and soon disappeared in the gathering +gloom. The agent was still seated upon the +box at the door of the depot when a big black +bunch showed up just where the other smaller +object had disappeared. Nearer and nearer it +came, and finally stopped a few hundred yards +from the station shanty. Two horsemen rode +out of the black spot and approached the station. +They had feathers in their hair and rifles +[Pg 109]on their arms, seeing which, the agent brought +out his rifle and let it rest upon his lap. A +hundred yards from the station the two men +stopped and called to the agent in a strange +tongue, and when he made no reply they rode +slowly up to the little station. They made sign +for drink, but the man stood at the door and +shook his head. They would eat, but the agent +refused to understand, and one of the Indians +started to enter the station. The agent sprang +inside, slammed the door and shoved his rifle +out through the small square hole in the centre +of the shutter. The Indians climbed upon +their cayuses, wiggled their heels, and rode +slowly back to where the band was waiting. +McGuire listened at the shed door, and in a +little while heard the unshod feet of the Indian +ponies beating the dusty plain. They seemed +to have separated, and were now galloping to +surround the station. Peeping through the +small port-holes the agent could see the dark +line of horses closing in upon the little wooden +shanty. Turning to the key he called Kearney +and told them that he was being surrounded +by the Sioux. Major North was notified, and +[Pg 110]started a company of scouts for Plainfield. The +operator called McGuire, but got no answer, +and all believed that the young station-master +had been killed immediately after sending his +Macedonian message. McGuire was busy. He +had opened the exercises himself, firing first +from one side and then from the other, to +show the enemy that he was numerous and well +armed. The Indians returned the fire, and the +lead fairly hailed upon the house. They had +charged the station, but some of the horses +having been hit by the bullets fired from the +stuffed walls, the Sioux fell back. They had no +thought, however, of abandoning the fight, and +before McGuire had succeeded in reloading +his fire-arms they charged again. This time +they reached the shanty, and, dismounting, beat +upon the sand-filled doors in a vain effort to +batter them down. The agent had been almost +panic stricken at the sound of the first volley +that rattled like rain upon the boarded sides of +the little depot, but now all feeling of fear had +left him, and he determined to give a good account +of himself. Dodging from one part of the +building to another he kept pouring the lead +[Pg 111]out through the narrow port-holes until the +Indians were driven away again. Many were +wounded, some were dead, and the rest desperate. +Leaving their horses out of range of the +agent’s rifle, the band concentrated their efforts +upon the front door. By the sound of the +bullets that hailed upon the house, the agent +could tell that they were coming only from one +direction, and so kept his place at the side of +the shanty nearest the track. He could hear +them ripping boards from the framework of +the water tank, and with them beating upon the +heavy door. Upon the low table he had arranged +boxes of cartridges and now stood in +the dark room loading and emptying his revolvers. +The noise of the assault upon the outer +walls of the wooden building became deafening, +and the horror of his surroundings almost +chilled the blood of the besieged; but he had +nothing to hope for at the hands of these +desperate Indians, and so fought on doggedly, +leaving the rest with God, the despatcher, and +Major North.
+ +Suddenly they hit the door a blow that shook +the walls and the very floor of the house. They +[Pg 112]had succeeded in loosening a tie, and with it +were ramming the shanty. At the same time +the agent became aware of smoke in the station, +and instantly started for his tunnel. They had +fired the shed at the rear while assaulting the +front, and the smoke almost choked McGuire +as he groped his way to the opening. Through +cracks in the roof he could see the fire eating +its way. Already the outer wall had burned +off, the sand had fallen out, and now the end +of a cross-tie was driven through the ceiling, +and fell, amid a shower of sparks and burning +splinters, upon the floor at the agent’s +feet.
+ +The front door now gave way under the +heavy blows, but smoke and flames filled the +place and made it impossible for the Indians +to enter. As McGuire took to the tunnel he +heard the yell of victory that went up from the +wild band as the door fell in.
+ +In a few moments McGuire, almost exhausted +and gasping for breath, found himself in the +base of the tank. When he had rested himself, +he climbed to the top of the tank and, peeping +from a small window, saw the painted devils +[Pg 113]prancing over the plain waiting impatiently for +him to come from the burning building. In +the light of the flaming station he could see +them plainly, and he longed to make targets of +their feathered heads, but he feared to attract +their notice.
+ +As the flames devoured the little pine house +and the heat grew less intense, the blood-thirsty +band peered into the ruins, and when +they could see no sign of the late occupant of +the place, began circling round, searching in the +sage-brush for the missing man. Satan seemed +to have inspired one of the imps at this +moment, for, taking a brand from the ruined +station, he ran and placed it against the tank. +When McGuire saw what the Sioux had done +he gave him a shot, and so published the secret +of his hiding-place.
+ +The moment he had fired he realized his mistake, +for when once they had discovered him +there would be no shadow of a show for him. +Those of the Indians who had heard the shot +and had seen the Sioux fall, ran about the tank +looking for the agent. Presently one of the +savages stopped and pointed toward the top of +[Pg 114]the tank. A great crowd had now collected, and +when they had jabbered about the dead Indian, +the tank, and the telegrapher for a few moments +they threw up their guns and sent a shower of +shot against the wooden structure. The agent, +crouching close to the water tub, kept out of +the way and held his fire. Presently he heard +them batter the door down. A moment later +he knew that they were climbing up the narrow +ladder. He waited at the top, and when the +first feathered head showed above the landing +at the bottom of the tank proper he brought +the barrel of his rifle down and the Sioux fell +upon the one following him, knocking him +from the ladder, and so they all went tumbling +to the ground. Leaning from his hiding-place, +McGuire emptied a six-shooter into the confused +band, and they were glad enough to +escape, dragging their dead and wounded with +them. Being sure of the whereabouts of the +white man, the Indians determined to have +him out at any cost. While the major part +of the band trained their guns upon the tank, +a half-dozen Indians carried fire-brands and +heaped them up against the framework. The +[Pg 115]splinters of the broken door were used for +kindling, and soon the flames were running up +the side of the tank, lighting up the plain for +five hundred yards around.
+ +With a sinking heart McGuire saw the semi-circle +of light from his funeral-pyre drive the +darkness from the desert, and knew that in a +little while he must choose between this burning +refuge and the blood-thirsty band below. +The fight, of which he had been so full a few +moments ago, had all gone out of him, and for +the first time in his life he lost heart. He +was so appalled at the thought of the awful +death that awaited him that it became a labor +to breathe. His limbs grew leaden. His rifle +was so heavy that he laid it down, and, leaning +over the top of the tank, ran his fingers through +his hair and was surprised that it was tangled +and wet, like fine grass heavy with dew. +Clasping his empty hands he lifted his eyes to +heaven to ask for help, but his glance was +arrested at the horizon where a big star burned +above the plain. As he looked the star grew +brighter, and he was reminded of the story of +a world that had been as hopelessly lost as he +[Pg 116]seemed now, when a star burned in the east +and the world was saved. Suddenly behind +the star a yellow light flared, fan-shaped, from +the earth, and he knew that the star was the +headlight of a locomotive and the flash was +from the furnace where the fireman was shovelling +coal for dear life. Now the rails that were +glistening in the glare of the headlight and +bridging the darkness to the edge of the +light of the burning tank began to sing, and +the Indians took warning and fled into the +darkness.
+ +“Too late, too late!” said the captain of the +scouts, who was riding in the cab.
+ +The engineer made no reply, but tugged at +the throttle, that was already wide open, and +kept his eyes fixed upon the burning building. +“That will do,” he said to the fireman as the +light of his head-lamp reached the other light. +He made a motion with his left hand as of a +man drinking, and the fireman put on the left-hand +pump to save the boiler, for the water +was low in the lower gauge.
+ +“Too late, too late!” mused McGuire, as +the flames climbed to the top and a red +[Pg 117]tongue lipped the edge of the tank as a mad +dog laps a running brook. Until now he had +not thought of trying to escape, for only death +had waited at the bottom, but seeing the Sioux +hunting cover, he peered over the edge, and the +smoke and flames were all about the ladder. +Now the fire burst through and the smoke came +up blinding and hot, and he took a last stand +on the narrow bridge that ran over the top of +the water tub. As he climbed up his hands +touched the water in the tank, which till now +he had not thought of. The tank was level +full, and with his hands he began to scoop the +water out, and in a little while succeeded in +checking the fire that was eating round to the +rear; but it was too far advanced in front, next +to the track, to be put out so easily. With a +great effort he managed to reach the rope that +was fixed to the valve in the bottom of the +tank, and when he had opened it the great +volume of water rushed out and deadened the +fire, so that by staying in the bottom of the +empty tank McGuire was able to survive +until the captain of the scouts and a couple +of Pawnees reached the top of the charred +[Pg 118]structure and carried him, almost lifeless, into +the fresh open air.
+ +“Little emergency runs like that,” said +the superintendent to the engineer afterwards, +“make men appreciate the value of time.”
+ +[Pg 119]
+McGUIRE GOES SWITCHING
+ +Pueblo was a tough town when the Rio +Grande terminated at that point. All the +good men were going into the mountains, for +Leadville was then sweating silver that was +worth more than a dollar an ounce. To be sure +there were always a few reliable men who could +railroad, who knew nothing else, and would do +nothing else. There were Dan Snyder, Steve +Riley, Jud Rogers, Charlie Barnes, and Silversmith, +old timers and stayers, whose signals were +always safe, and upon these men the management +depended to handle the trains and hold +the “stormy” switchmen in line. It was at +this swift outpost on the edge of the west that +Tom McGuire tied up and asked Jim Williams, +the “scrappy” yardmaster, for a job, switching +in the yards.
+ +“Where ye frum?” asked Suicide Dick, the +foreman, cocking his cigar in one corner of his +mouth and then blowing rings of smoke into +[Pg 120]the twilight, as he strolled down the yard with +the new man.
+ +“The U. P.”
+ +“Umaha?”
+ +“Yes.”
+ +“Know Pat Toohey?”
+ +“No.”
+ +“Then yer a liar, Mr. McGuire, ye never saw +Umaha—gimme that glim.”
+ +Now, McGuire had never been called a liar. +He was not a liar, and he knew it, but he gave +the foreman the glim, just over the left eye.
+ +“You dam farmer,” said Dick, and that was +all he said. He put down his white light and +put up his hands.
+ +McGuire saw that he was about to have a +fight with a man whom he had known less than +ten minutes. He made his feet firm on the +coarse gravel and waited. Dick wiped his +bleeding eye on his jumper sleeve and looked +for an opening. McGuire put up his hands +awkwardly.
+ +Dick smiled.
+ +Scrappy Jim saw the men manœuvring in the +twilight and signalled a switch-engine back with +[Pg 121]a rush signal, whirling his lamp furiously until +the pony had stopped in front of the switch-shanty.
+ +“Smatter?” demanded fighting John Jones, +leaning from the cab. He did not like the +signal. It seemed to him that it carried an +unnecessary amount of “hurry up.” Without +lifting his eyes to the cab, Jim stepped aboard, +and, nodding down the yard, said, “Back up. +Suicide’s touchin’ up the new guy.”
+ +Jones opened the throttle and the yard engine +slid down the track and stopped short +where the trouble was. Dick heard the engine +and was glad. He liked an audience. He +remembered how the yardmaster had “touched +him up” in the first hour of his first day’s work +for the company, and recalled with pride that +the good showing he had made with Jim had won +promotion. McGuire had expected that the +yardmaster on the engine and the engineer +would stop the fight, but he heard no word +from them. Only three suns had set since this +pugilistic pair had shut themselves up in a box +car and settled their own little differences, and +they now leaned side by side from the cab window[Pg 122] +and looked with much interest upon the +argument that was about to take place.
+ +“Here they come,” said Dick, playfully, and +he reached for McGuire’s face.
+ +“We ride everything here. Here comes a +flat fur a starter,” and he spanked McGuire’s +cheek with his open hand. “Here’s an empty +box,” and he reached for the other side, but +McGuire’s arm was on his time.
+ +“That’s right—stop ’em. Here’s a cripple +for the rep track,” and he landed lightly on +McGuire’s ribs. “Here’s a couple loaded,” +and he put his right and left hard on McGuire’s +chest.
+ +The blows angered the tenderfoot. Dick +was leaping and dancing about the unfortunate +stranger as a savage Sioux would leap about a +scalped Pawnee. “We’ll put this express car +in on the spur,” said Dick as he landed a +stinging blow on the point of his opponent’s +nose. That insult brought the blood, and +instantly all the Irish in McGuire’s make-up +came to the surface. He was desperate, but +he knew he must keep cool. The foreman +began to force the fighting. He talked less +[Pg 123]now, but fought more. McGuire contented +himself with stopping the blows of his adversary, +and so saved his wind, which he had observed +was a tender point in this rare, light air. Dick +was wearing himself out. His left eye was +bleeding and the blood blinded him at times. +McGuire would not wilfully take advantage of +that, but the yardman kept him so busy and +mixed cuts for him to such an extent, that he +had to do something.
+ +“Here’s a gondola loaded with iron ore,” +said Dick, and he made a curve with his left, +which McGuire dodged. Before the foreman +could recover, McGuire swung his right on the +fellow’s left ear, and Suicide Dick collapsed +like a punctured tire.
+ +“That must ’a been a sleeper,” said Jim, +glancing at Jones.
+ +McGuire stood puffing like a helper on a +heavy grade, and waiting for Dick to get to his +feet.
+ +The two men came from the engine and +stood by the man on the ground.
+ +Dick lifted his head and then sat up. Presently +he got to his feet, and when he could see, +[Pg 124]he picked out McGuire and offered his hand. +McGuire took it, and then Jones offered his +hand, and then the yardmaster shook the hand +of the tenderfoot.
+ +Dick walked over to a freight engine, opened +the water-cock, and bathed his bleeding face.
+ +“Wash up,” said Williams, jerking his thumb +in the direction of the freighter, and McGuire +went over and washed.
+ +“I want to pay for that light before I go,” +said McGuire, “and I owe this man an apology +for striking him with it.”
+ +“Huh,” grunted Dick.
+ +“Don’t git silly,” said Jim.
+ +Dick handed his lamp, which had a frosted +stripe near the top of the globe, to McGuire, +and picked up the bent and battered frame that +awhile ago had fallen across his face.
+ +“Don’t I quit?” asked McGuire, glancing +from one face to the other.
+ +“Quit! what do you quit fur? Didn’t you +win? They don’t nobody quit—you simply +change places; an’ when you lick me you’ll be +yardmaster, an’ have two stripes on yer glim, +see?”
+ +[Pg 125]
+ +McGuire could not reply. He was utterly +unable to make these men out, and when Jones +had climbed on to the engine, he stepped with +the yardmaster on to the footboard, Dick, who +was tired, took a seat on the bumper beam +between them, and the little switcher trembled +away down the track to where a freight conductor +was swearing loudly in front of the switch-shanty.
+ +When the road had been extended to Leadville +young McGuire, having attracted the +notice and won the respect of the Superintendent, +was sent up to take charge of the yards. +Switchmen were scarcer there than they had +been at Pueblo, for the town was wild and wide +open. Those who came to work in the yards +were the toughest of the tough; men who could +not find employment east of Denver came here +to railroad, ten thousand feet above the sea. +McGuire undertook to improve the service. +He put up a bulletin that said men must not +fight on duty, and that all switchmen would be +expected to be sober when they reported for +work; that trainmen would be allowed but one +place of residence, and that the caller would +[Pg 126]not look further than the address given for men +who were wanted.
+ +“All switchmen,” said Flat-wheel Finigan, +from the Texas Pacific, reading the bulletin. +“Now, it’s plain to me that that ‘all’ means +‘Finigan,’” and the new bulletin was ripped +ruthlessly from the wall of the yard-house.
+ +If McGuire discharged a man, a worse one +came to fill the vacancy; and the yardmaster +became discouraged. He sent in his resignation, +but no attention was paid to it. Nobody +came to relieve him, and so he worked on, +always short-handed and often alone. Winter +came, and it was next to impossible to get +men to handle the company’s business. A +large force of laborers was kept constantly at +work shovelling snow from the many spurs that +ran up to the mines or down to the smelters. +Of course McGuire could only offer schedule +pay that was fixed at Denver, and it was +hard to get men to switch in the snow for +three dollars when they could have five for +sawing wood or tending bar.
+ +After much correspondence the yardmaster +succeeded in having the pay of switchmen +[Pg 127]raised to four dollars in the Leadville yards, and +in a little while had a reasonably sober gang +chasing the three yard engines that had been +sent up to do the work of four.
+ +Things went fairly well until the foreman got +drunk one day, and had to be discharged. The +wronged man went over to the Cadillac and +told his troubles to the barkeeper. His tale +was overheard by a lucky miner who had just +sold a prospect hole for ten thousand. This +miner, with the liberality of a man moved by +spirits, proposed that the two open a saloon-restaurant. +He would furnish the money, the +yardman the experience, nerve, and good-will. +The offer was accepted. They bought a storeroom +that had cost six hundred for sixteen, and +in less than a week from the day of his dismissal +the ex-foreman posted the following +notice above his front door:—
+ +“Wanted—Seven swift biscuit shooters, any sex, +creed, or color—Wages, six dollars a day.”
+Thirty minutes later seven of McGuire’s +switchmen were switching in the “Green Café.”
+ +Later one of the men went back and brought +the foreman from the yards, who was installed +[Pg 128]as yardmaster in the new restaurant. The +manager became the “G. M.,” and the talk was +railroad talk and nothing else.
+ +The “switch-list” was not printed, but was +shown orally to each patron as he took his seat.
+ +“Ride ’em in, ride ’em in,” called the yardmaster +to a couple of switchmen who were +pitching plates of beans through a narrow window +from the kitchen to the dining-room.
+ +“Drop the dope down the main line;” and +one of the men shot a yellow bowl of butter on +to the centre table.
+ +“Sand on No. 1—north spur,” called the +head waiter, and before he had finished a sugar-bowl +was dropped upon the first table to the +right.
+ +“Pull the pin on that load on No. 2 south,” +yelled the general manager. The yardmaster +and one of the switchmen lifted a fat man from +the sawdust floor and put him in a back room to +cool.
+ +“Pancakes, warm, please,” said a man who +seemed to be afraid of being overheard.
+ +“String o’ flats with a hot box,” called the +yardmaster; and so it went from morning till +[Pg 129]midnight, and from midnight till morning +again.
+ +In the mean time McGuire worked loyally for +the company, freezing his ears and frosting his +feet. One bitter cold morning a string of +empties got away on the hill. All the switchmen, +who were not switchmen at all, but who +were drawing pay under false pretensions, +jumped off in the deep snow. McGuire stayed +with the train and rode them down. The agent +at Malta saw them coming round the curve up +toward the town, and saw McGuire signalling +frantically for the safety switch,—a short spur +that was put there to keep runaway cars from +getting out on the main line on the time of +regular trains. That was a trying moment for +the station agent. If he threw McGuire in on +the spur he would be shot down the hill with a +half-dozen freight cars on top of him. If he +let him out on to the main line, he must almost +surely collide with the up-coming passenger +train that had already passed Haydens and +could not be caught by wire. He knew +McGuire and liked him. He was awed by the +great courage that could hold a single man on +[Pg 130]a runaway train on such a hill at such a time. +There was something fine in the make-up of a +man who could call for a switch to wreck himself +to save the crew and passengers on another +train. The agent signalled the yardmaster to +get off, but McGuire shook his head. The +agent turned his back, and McGuire went out +on the main line, leaning to the curve like a +man driving a fast horse on a circular course. +Below the station there was a short stretch of +straight track from which the wind, blowing +down from Tennessee Pass, had swept the +snow. The yardmaster, climbing from car to +car, set the brakes as tight as he could set them; +but the shoes were covered with ice, and the +train, on the tangent, seemed to be increasing +its speed. Now they fell into a lot of curves. +McGuire began to guess that he could not hold +them; but he could not get off now, even if he +chose to do so, for on one hand lay the Arkansas +River and on the other the rock wall of the +cañon.
+ +Far down the gulch he heard a locomotive +whistle, and his heart stood still. Presently he +felt the brakes taking hold of the wheels. It +[Pg 131]seemed incredible, but it was so. The friction +of the whirling wheels had melted the ice from +the brake shoes, and now the wheels began to +smoke. The curves and reverse curves helped +also, and the runaway train began to slow +down. He could easily jump now, if they +failed to stop, for they were not making twenty +miles an hour; but at that moment he heard a +wild, distressing cry for brakes from a locomotive. +He was riding on the rearmost car, the +head end was hidden round a sharp curve, and +now he saw the middle of his train hump up +like a cat’s back. The first car shot up over +the pilot of the head engine, cut off her stack, +whistle, and one corner of her cab, but fortunately +no one was hurt.
+ +That afternoon McGuire promoted the foreman +to be yardmaster, went to Denver and resigned +“in person;” but his resignation was not +accepted.
+ +[Pg 132]
+SNOWBOUND
+ +Down on the desert the earth was warm +and brown, but when the train had passed +Grand Junction a few stray flakes were seen +floating across the cañon. At Montrose, where +they picked up a helper for the hill, the ground +was covered with snow. Most of the passengers +got out and walked up and down the long +wooden platform, for the air was cool and +bracing. It seemed that there must be some +trouble up the line, for the conductor of No. 8 +was hurrying to and fro with his hands full of +orders that he appeared unable to fill. A +couple of travelling men were threatening to +sue the company unless they reached Denver +within the next twenty-four hours; and other +passengers were getting hungry. Jack Bowen, +of the Ouray branch, was lying luminously to a +dignified New Englander and his handsome +daughter. Jack was the uniformed conductor +[Pg 133]of the Ouray run, whose elocutionary accomplishments +had made him the envy of all the +men on the mountain division of this mountainous +railroad. They had ploughed up a tribe +of Indians coming down that morning, Jack +was saying, with his insinuating, half-embarrassed +smile, and the pilot of the locomotive +had been red with the blood of the band.
+ +“Look now, you can see the fireman cleaning +it off,” he added, for the old gentleman +was going to smile. Sure enough they could +see the fireman with a piece of waste wiping +the pilot of the Ouray engine.
+ +“And did you leave them where they lay?”
+ +“Sure,” said Jack; “couldn’t stop the +most important run on the road for a few +miserable Ingins,—dead Ingins at that. ’Sides, +if we stopped we couldn’t get ’em.”
+ +“Was the snow so very deep up there?”
+ +“’Twant the snow,” said the conductor, +smiling and consulting his big gold watch.
+ +“What was it, then?” asked the tourist, becoming +more and more interested.
+ +“Well, it so happened that a band of wolves +was at that moment passin’ down towards the +[Pg 134]Uncompahgre in search of food, an’ the moment +they got scent o’ blood they pounced +upon the prey.”
+ +The young lady caught her father’s arm and +shuddered.
+ +“If there is anything a wolf rolls as a sweet +morsel under his tongue,” said Jack, glancing +at his watch again, “it’s Ingin fricassee, rare +and red.”
+ +“Oh, papa!” said the young lady, “let’s +go back to the sleeper.”
+ +“You see,” resumed the conductor, “it +didn’t matter much, for this was a band of +renegades—bad Ingins they are called,—who +ought to have been killed some time ago. +Their leader, Cut-Your-Hair-Short, was spotted +by old Ouray, the chief, anyway. He wanted +to marry Cat-A-Sleepin’, Ouray’s daughter; +the old man kicked, and what you ’s’pose this +Ingin, Cut-Your-Hair-Short, did?”
+ +“I haven’t the remotest idea,” said the +bewildered New Englander.
+ +“Well, sir, he goes up to the old chief’s +hogan—”
+ +“Bowen.”
+ +[Pg 135]
+ +“Excuse me,” said Jack, “till I explain the +orders to this young man. Yo’ see he’s new +at the business, and I have to help him out +occasionally to see—”
+ +“Bowen.”
+ +This time the conductor of No. 8 spoke +short and sharp, and Bowen went to him.
+ +“Now, look here, Jack,” began the conductor +of the snow-bound train, “if you don’t +stop stuffing that old gentleman I swear I’ll +report you when I get to Salida.”
+ +“Who’s stuffin’ ’im?”
+ +“That’s all right, you lie to your own people—let +my passengers alone.”
+ +Jack went back to his prey.
+ +“I hope,” said the gray-haired voyager, +“that this young man will not get us into any +trouble.”
+ +“Oh! not a bit of it, not a bit of it; I have +explained everything to him, and he won’t +forget. Now, you’d never dream it,” he went +on, turning and walking beside the handsome +woman, “but that young fellow McGuire’s a +nobleman.”
+ +“You don’t tell me?”
+ +[Pg 136]
+ +“Yes, I do, an’ what’s more to the point, +it’s true. Look at him. You don’t suppose +a young fellow like that would be in charge of +a main line express train ’less he had a pull.”
+ +“A what?”
+ +“’Less he cut ice elsewhere,” said the conductor. +“I tell you that comedian stands to +win out a throne some day. His father was +Irish, of course, but his mother was French. +She could chase herself right back to the old +rock and rye family, the Bourbins, I think they +were called. His grandfather lived with a man +called Louie Sais on a ranch called Ver Sigh, a +little way out of Paris. The old man was a +sort of a chum of the Louis, called ‘The +Gentleman of the Sleeping Car’ or something +like that,—he was a big hole at Ver Sigh, was +this boy’s Grand Pare.”
+ +“Allabo a-r-d,” said McGuire in the middle +of his career. The old gentleman bowed +stiffly to Bowen, the young lady smiled sweetly, +and stepped into the Pullman.
+ +When McGuire came through the car taking +up tickets after leaving Montrose, he found Miss +Landon alone. She lifted her eyes,—sunny +[Pg 137]eyes, they were, that seemed to mock him and +the blinding storm through which they were +now rolling away up the long, even grade that +made a mighty approach to the mountain. +She held her glance upon his burning face for +the briefest space, but when he passed on he +could still feel the warmth of her eyes, like the +waves of lingering sunshine through which you +pass when you are walking in a summer twilight.
+ +When he had finished his work the conductor +returned to the smoking-room of the +sleeper, but found after a moment’s stay that +the air was vile, the place stuffy, and he went +forward to the day coach. As he passed +through the forward sleeper he noticed that +Miss Landon was still alone. She had her +back to him, but as he came up the aisle the +swing of the car on a short curve caused him +to steady himself upon the end of her section. +At the same moment and for the same reason +she put an ungloved hand out to clasp the +edge of the narrow seat, and it fell, soft as a +snowflake, warm as a sunbeam, and soundless +as a shadow, upon the hand of McGuire.
+ +To be sure she did not leave it there long, +[Pg 138]but she had to press the hand of the conductor +to steady herself in the car that was +now rolling like a stage-coach on the Rainbow +Route. She drew her hand away, and went +red to the tips of her shell-like ears; but she +did not look back to see whose hand she had +caressed. Looking into the narrow mirror at +her side, McGuire saw her confusion and hurried +past, and she wondered whether it was +his hand that she had touched. She rather +hoped that it might be so!
+ +Up in the forward car the two travelling +men, the editor of the Ouray Solid Muldoon, +and a cowboy from the Uncompahgre, were +playing poker. Now McGuire knew that this +was against the rules of the road, but he was +slow to make protest under the circumstances. +He was reasonably sure that they would all +come back to Montrose, for the snow was +growing deeper and deeper with each passing +mile-post. He would have these men on his +hands overnight, and so would avoid friction. +He stood with his back to the door for a +moment listening to the talk of the travelling +men, the cowboy, and the editor.
+[Pg 139]
+“Why, I know ’im like a book,” Muldoon +was saying. “Name’s Landon, Ole Joe Landon +of Gloucester, made his money on codfish: +ante up there, Patsy.”
+ +“It’s his do,” said Patsy.
+ +“Come to the centre there, ole brandin’ iron,” +said the editor to the cattleman, and the latter +dropped a cartridge among the coin and other +equivalent upon the impoverished poker table.
+ +Time had been when McGuire could linger +and laugh for hours where these rollicking voyagers +played and told stories, but now their +talk seemed absolutely silly, not to say vulgar, +and he turned away.
+ +“After all,” mused McGuire, “there’s not +such a gulf between us. She’s a rich merchant’s +daughter, I’m a poor conductor. She +must ever remain a merchant’s daughter with +no show for promotion. I’m due to be a +superintendent, a general manager, and, possibly, +the president of a railroad. And then—if +she is still a merchant’s daughter! well, it’s +a long, long road, but by the god o’ the wind, +I’ll make the effort. If I fail, very well, I +shall be better for having tried.”
+ +[Pg 140]
+ +Seating himself in a quiet corner, McGuire +began to count upon the fingers of his left hand +the men who had begun far below where he +now stood and worked up to positions of trust. +First he counted presidents only. There were +Manvill, Moffett, Newell, Blackstone, Clark of +the U. P., Clark of the M. & O., Towne, +Hughitt, and Van Horne. When he began on +the general managers he had to go to the other +hand, and when he came to count the self-made +superintendents, beginning loyally with +“the old man” of the mountain division, he +ran out of fingers and took heart. And what a +prize to work for, and she was rich. Incidentally +she was an angel.
+ +He could not tell why he did so, but he now +went back through the car, and as he was passing +the old merchant’s section the head engine, +which was wearing a pilot plough, screamed for +brakes, and the train came to a dead stop.
+ +“Anything wrong?” asked the traveller.
+ +“Oh! no,” said McGuire cheerfully, “just a +little skiff o’ snow.”
+ +Now, he had made up his mind not to look +into the eyes of the girl again, but when she +[Pg 141]leaned over and asked, with just the sweetest, +distressing little scare in her voice, if there were +any wolves about, he had to look.
+ +“No,” he said, “there are no wolves in +these mountains to speak of,” and he smiled a +smile that was almost sad.
+ +“Nor Indians?” said the sweet voice, a trifle +clearer.
+ +“Nor Indians,” said McGuire, shaking his +head.
+ +“They’re dreadful on the Ouray branch.”
+ +“Which, the wolves or the Indians?”
+ +“Both,” she replied. “A gentleman told +us, there where we stopped so long, that they +killed ever so many Indians coming down this +morning. Mr. Bowen, I think they called him; +he seemed to be one of the officials of the +road, so I’m sure he would not say anything to +frighten people if it were not true.”
+ +McGuire was boiling. He might have been +tempted to introduce Mr. Bowen then and +there, but at that moment the head brakeman +came back to say that they were stuck fast in a +drift a hundred yards from the little telegraph +office at the foot of Cerro Hill.
+ +[Pg 142]
+ +For nearly an hour they bucked and backed +and bucked again, but it was of no use. The +snow was growing deeper with each passing +moment. Presently it stopped snowing and +began to blow, and McGuire asked for orders +to back down to Montrose again, but the +despatcher would not let him go.
+ +Denver was hammering Salida, Salida was +swearing at Gunnison, and Gunnison was burning +the company wire over Cerro Hill, telling +McGuire to get out.
+ +Finally the trainmaster lost his head, McGuire +lost his temper, wrote his resignation and +handed it to the operator, but fortunately the +wires were down by this time, and the message +couldn’t go.
+ +The section gang having cleared the siding, +the train was now pulled in off the main line.
+ +Being assured that there were no wolves nor +Indians on the right of way, Miss Landon came +out with her father to see the sights. It was +growing dark at the end of a short December +day, and what with the flying snow and the +screams and snorts of the engines that had +been uncoupled and were now hammering away +[Pg 143]at the deep drifts, the merchant and his daughter +were unable to hear the whistle of a snow-plough +that was at that moment falling down +from Cerro summit.
+ +McGuire heard the whistle, backed his buckers +on to the siding, and, looking up, saw Miss +Landon and her father standing on the edge of +a thorough cut that had drifted almost full of +snow. Appreciating at a glance the danger +they were in, the conductor ran up the track +and tried to call to the old gentleman to stand +back, but the snow was deep and held him, the +storm muffled his voice, and the wind carried +his cry away across the hills and lost it among +the shrouded cedars.
+ +The big engine, and the snow-plough, under +the snow, made little more noise than a ship +would make running under water, and it was +not until the plough was upon them that the two +travellers at the top of the cut saw or heard it. +The great machine, which was rounding a slight +curve, seemed to be driving straight for them. +The girl turned to try to escape, and there +before her, not two cars away, she saw what +seemed to be a huge black bear, climbing up +[Pg 144]the bank toward her. At that moment she +stepped over the edge, and went rolling down +to the bottom of the cut, for the newly drifted +snow was soft and light.
+ +It would have been a relief to Miss Landon +to have been able to faint, but she did not. +She had no sooner reached the outer rail than +the big plough picked her up and hurled her, +unhurt, almost out of the right of way. She +grew dizzy with the sensation of falling, but was +able to feel that she was coming down on the +soft snow, and that she was still unhurt. Between +her going up and coming down she managed +to breathe a grateful prayer, so rapidly does the +human mind work at the edge of the future.
+ +After what appeared to her a very long time, +she came down in a deep drift with her eyes +full of snow. She felt soft arms about her +waist, and opened her eyes. “Help! help!” +she screamed, for the arms were the arms of +the big black bear. Now the bear stood up +and carried her away. She fainted.
+ +When the sun went down the wind went with +it. The moon came up from beyond Ouray +[Pg 145]and showed the still, cold world sleeping in her +robe of white. The smooth, high mountains, +twenty, fifty, and even a hundred miles away, +looked like polished piles of marble, gleaming +in the moonlight. Miss Landon was lying on +a couch in the drawing-room of a sleeper. +Her father was seated opposite her, and when +the conductor looked in to see if anything was +wanted, the merchant asked him to sit down. +The excitement through which he had passed +made the old gentleman feel lonely, away out +there in the wilds of a trackless waste. Possibly +the stories that Bowen had told him added to +his uneasiness. He wanted to smoke. All the +other ladies, not having staterooms, had gone to +the hotel for the night. Miss Landon was nervous +and he did not like her to be alone, so now, +making excuse, he went to the smoking-room.
+ +The Ouray train had been unable to reach +its destination and had also backed down to +Montrose again. McGuire had given Bowen +orders to keep out of his train, and Jack was +hurt. He had secured a guitar, a man who +could play it, some railway employees who +thought they could sing, and just as the old +[Pg 146]gentleman was entering the smoking-room, Jack +and his mirth-makers paused beneath Miss +Landon’s window. Jack had instructed them +to sing “Patsy Git Up From the Fire,” and to +begin with the chorus.
+ +The heart of the handsome conductor beat +wildly when he found himself alone with the +charming girl. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, +for the excitement of the afternoon had left her +feverish. Her deep blue eyes shed a softer +light as she lounged upon the little divan amid +the Pullman pillows.
+ +Realizing that her duty was now that of +hostess in her own drawing-room, Miss Landon +was about to break the embarrassing silence +that was filling the place, but at that moment +Camdel, the red-haired soprano, touched the +guitar and opened up with a mirth-provoking +Irish accent:—
+ +By the time the singers had concluded the +chorus McGuire was on his feet, his face +changing from red to white.
+ +[Pg 147]
+ +“Sit down,” said Miss Landon, blushing, but +smiling in spite of herself. “I did not know +you had a bard among you capable of making +songs upon occasion,” she added; “please +don’t disturb them.”
+ +McGuire threw himself upon the seat and +bit his lip. If only he could get hold of Jack +Bowen he’d break his long back.
+ +After what seemed an age to McGuire the +song ceased.
+ +“I think that is perfectly wonderful,” said +Miss Landon enthusiastically, “and how nicely +the singing sounds out there in the clear, cold +night. They must have made that song since +we came back from the hills; and the music, +where did they get the tune? Did that funny +Mr. Bowen make that too?”
+ +“That man couldn’t make a mud pie; he +can’t whistle a tune; he can’t even tell the +truth,” said the conductor of No. 8, indignantly.
+ +“Oh, Mr. McGuire,” said the young lady, +with a pretty show of surprise.
+ +“Well, it’s true. I’m ashamed to say so, +but it’s true; you must not believe a word he +says.”
+ +[Pg 148]
+ +“Not one word?”
+ +“Never. I don’t see how he made his wife +believe he loved her.”
+ +“Is he married, then?”
+ +“Oh, yes. He’s as gentle as a nun and as +harmless as a child, only don’t believe him. +He lies just for the love of it, and never to +injure any one. He ought to leave the road +and devote himself to literature; he likes +romancing. He calls his harmless bits of +fiction ‘Novels Out of Print.’”
+ +“He certainly has a ready and vivid imagination.”
+ +Miss Landon sighed lightly. McGuire was +handsome, and he had held her in his arms.
+ +“Please take off that horrid woolly coat,” +said Miss Landon, with a little shudder.
+ +McGuire, blushing, removed his bearskin +overcoat that he had put on up in the hills +that afternoon.
+ +“I presume papa has thanked you for rescuing +me so heroically,” she said, looking at him.
+ +“He has, but it was not necessary.”
+ +“But it is right, and I must thank you also.”
+ +“Then, if you thank me, I am glad, for you +[Pg 149]did not seem to appreciate my efforts at the +moment.”
+ +“Who could? I was scared out of my wits; +I took you for a horrid bear, and that was the +first time I ever fainted in all my life; and +that’s more than some of your Western girls can +say, who are so sensible, self-possessed, and +brave.”
+ +���I thought,” said McGuire, smiling back at +the young lady, “it might be because we had +not been properly introduced. You have doubtless +heard of the Boston girl who was drowning, +but refused to be rescued upon that ground?”
+ +“I have not heard it, and I should not believe +it if I had. Boston girls are as sensible as Denver +girls or San Francisco girls. I don’t know +that we have been introduced yet,” she added, +with a little toss of her head, and her words +went straight to the heart of McGuire.
+ +He felt that he ought to go, and yet he knew +that her father had left her in his care, and that +he would be expected to remain in the drawing-room +until the merchant had finished his cigar. +To add to his confusion she let her window +shade fly up, and, apparently ignoring his presence,[Pg 150] +was looking out upon the cold, shrouded +world, that seemed so wild and wide.
+ +“Ah!” said the old gentleman, entering the +room, “I feel better now; first good smoke +I’ve had since dinner.”
+ +When McGuire arose and took up his greatcoat, +Miss Landon stood up and returned his +good night.
+ +“Good night,” said the merchant, and immediately, +as if they had been waiting for time; the +mirth-makers upon the platform sang:
+ +[Pg 151]
+BREAKING THE TRAIL
+ +At midnight orders came. The road was +open, the wires up, and the delayed train, +in three sections, pulled out for the hills. The +big pilot plough that had “bucked” the beautiful +Miss Landon out of the right-of-way and into +the arms of McGuire ran ahead, followed by +the Rockaway with two cars, while a couple of +heavy mountain-climbers brought up the coaches +and sleepers.
+ +McGuire watched, like a faithful slave, at the +door of the merchant’s stateroom, for he was +hard hit by the hand and eyes of the merchant’s +daughter. The heavy car rocked gently on the +curves as the big engines, with much slipping +and sanding, toiled to the summit of Cerro Hill. +In a little while they were rolling along the +banks of the Gunnison, and the silent river was +slipping past them under the snow. At sunrise, +having toiled up another long, hard hill, the +[Pg 152]train stood at the crest of the continent, ten +thousand feet above the sea.
+ +McGuire regretted that the old gentleman +had taken a drawing-room, for when they had a +section in the body of the car, the conductor +could see the beautiful woman as he passed up +and down. Now, if she chose to do so, she +could isolate herself utterly. While the grim +drivers were oiling round, the young lady +appeared upon the platform, smiled at McGuire, +and asked him to help her down.
+ +“Papa’s still sleeping, and I don’t want to +miss the view.”
+ +The conductor opened a narrow door in the +big, smoky snow-shed, and they stepped out +into the crisp, sunny air.
+ +“Oh! how perfectly beautiful,” exclaimed +the enthusiastic girl, gazing over the top of +aspen groves, where the trees were hung with +millions of jewels that sparkled and quivered in +the morning sun.
+ +When the train had begun to wind away +down the mountain side the conductor brought +a camp stool, and the young lady sat upon the +rear platform of the rearmost car and watched +[Pg 153]the mountains spring up in their wake. Once, +when they were rounding a long curve, the conductor +asked her to look over the low range, +Poncho Pass, that walls the San Luis away +from the Arkansas Valley, and there she saw an +even hundred miles of the snowy Sangre de +Cristo, lifting her white crest far up into the +burnished blue.
+ +Presently, when they had dropped into the +cañon, and there were no more mountains to +be seen, Miss Landon asked the conductor to +send her the words of the song his friends had +sung to them over beyond the Rockies.
+ +“I’ll write you the chorus now, on a leaf +from my train-book.”
+ +“Oh, do you remember it?”
+ +“I ought to; I have heard it all my life.”
+ +“Then it was not made for us—for you, I +mean?”
+ +“I’m afraid not.”
+ +“Then how did it happen to have our—your +name?”
+ +“Oh, McGuire is a common Irish name, you +know. But was it your name, as well? Is +your name Kate?”
+ +[Pg 154]
+ +She smiled and nodded.
+ +“Then my friends were innocent, for I’m +sure they did not know it, or they never would +have sung that song. It must have seemed +awfully rude to you.”
+ +“On the contrary, I thought it extremely +clever, and flattered myself that I had been the +inspiration, or part of it, at least. Anyway, +you’ll send me the song, won’t you?”
+ +“With pleasure,” and he wrote her name and +waited for the address.
+ +“Just Gloucester—everybody knows us—or +papa, at least.”
+ +“Thank you,” said the conductor, closing his +book.
+ +“Thank you.”
+ +“For what?”
+ +“For saving the life of a poor girl and bringing +her back to her papa, like a good bear, +when you might have carried her away to the +hills.”
+ +Now, the light engines that had helped them +up the mountain began whistling for Salida.
+ +“I get off here,” said McGuire, rising.
+ +“Oh! is this the end?”
+ +[Pg 155]
+ +“Of my run, yes, and this has been the best +trip I ever had.”
+ +“Do you call it a good trip when you are a +day late?”
+ +“I call this a good trip. And that reminds +me that I have not made out my report.”
+ +“What will you report?”
+ +“The cause of the delay.”
+ +“And the effect?”
+ +“Yes,” said McGuire, with his heart hitting +his vest like a trip-hammer, “but not now. I’ll +make that report when other men are reporting +to me.”
+ +“I don’t understand you.”
+ +“You will when you see my report. Listen! +When I am the Superintendent and have outgrown +this beastly uniform, I’ll send you that +song, and if you get it, then I’ll forward my +report.”
+ +He was so handsome, his eyes glowing with +the light of love, his voice so full of emotion, +that a woman with cooler blood than that which +flowed in the veins of the Gloucester girl might +have been moved.
+ +She held out her hand (she had removed one +[Pg 156]of her gloves) and McGuire seized it. Glancing +through the glass door, he raised it to his lips, +and she suffered him to do so.
+ +She felt the ring on his finger, and remembered +that she had felt it once before. It was +his hand that she had pressed, accidentally, over +there in the storm.
+ +When the train swung ’round the curve and +stopped at the station, the conductor touched +his cap and dropped off.
+ +When he had registered “in” he came out, +and the Gloucester girl, watching at the window, +saw him cross the little swinging bridge and +lose himself in the narrow, unpaved streets of +what, to her, seemed a dreary little town.
+ +[Pg 157]
+A NEW LINE
+ +When a man sets his heart on a thing he +can accomplish a great deal in a comparatively +short time. Thomas McGuire had been +a careful, industrious employee. He had never +acquired the habit of wasting all of his leisure +hours and spare dollars in the wild resorts of the +thriving towns that lay at either end of his run. +He began now to study the history of American +railways. He devoured everything in print, +from the local weekly paper to the monthly +magazines and reviews. He bought, begged, and +borrowed books that would give him more or +less of the financial history of the various railways +of the country. He had the advantage of +a fair education, which enabled him to read +rapidly and understandingly. What he longed +for and worked for was promotion, but it seemed +to go by the other way. He grew impatient. +To be sure, nobody ran around him, but promotion[Pg 158] +came slowly. Nobody seemed to want +to quit, or get killed, and so, when the Inter-Mountain +Air Line was built, McGuire got in on +the ground floor. He had the first passenger +train on the road, and in a little while was made +trainmaster, but there he hung for a whole year. +Another step would put him in a place where +he could send his song to Gloucester, but he +was powerless to help himself on. At last an +Assistant Superintendent was appointed and +McGuire got the job.
+ +Another man might have strained a point +here and knocked, at once, at the gate of the +handsome woman’s walled-up heart, but McGuire +was severely exact. He must not be the +Assistant Superintendent, but the whole thing, +and so he worked and waited until another year +had gone by. Of course, promotion was bound +to come to a man who worked as he worked, he +knew that, and it did come one spring morning +when it was least expected. He was asked to +take the place of General Superintendent of a +competing line. As might have been expected, +one of the first things he did was to mail a copy +of a certain homely song to Gloucester, as a +[Pg 159]signal of his success, and then he went to work +with a will. In less than six months he had +made a name for himself, crippled the Air Line, +which means success in this country where competition +is the life (or death) of railroading, and +they asked him to come back, and proposed to +double his salary. But he would not go as assistant +to a man who was notoriously incompetent, +and whose only excuse for being in the business +was that his father had inherited money and put +it into the building of the new line. It happened, +however, as it frequently does, that other +people had put money into the same enterprise; +they were losing it, and they objected to assessments +where they had expected dividends. The +young man resigned; McGuire took his place, +and in ninety days had pulled the business back +that he had pulled away with him. When a +merchant is going to ship a few cars of goods +over somebody’s railroad, he says to McGuire, +who happens to be his personal friend, “You +can do this as cheaply as the other fellows?” +“Yes,” says McGuire, “the rate is about the +same on all lines.” So it comes down to a +matter of personal popularity, and McGuire gets +[Pg 160]the freight, and that’s all there is to railroading, +so far as getting business goes. When it comes +to handling men and keeping up track, that requires +a genius with colder blood.
+ +In a little while McGuire was made General +Manager, but he was unhappy. What was the +good of all this success? The manuscript of the +song had come back to him from the dead-letter +office. He was famous in railway +circles but miserable in mind. It was impossible +to pick up a newspaper that ran “Railroads” +without reading of the Inter-Mountain +Air Line and its brilliant young manager. He +was dignified enough to command the respect, +and simple and democratic enough to win the +love, of his subordinates. He looked to the +heads of the various departments to manage +the business, but watched over it all himself. +He was always accessible. He could awe a +manager’s meeting or he could put in a frog.
+ +He never locked his door.
+ +[Pg 161]
+COMING HOME
+ +Miss Landon was eighteen when the snow-plough +picked her up in the thorough-cut +on the Pacific Slope and pitched her into the +arms of Conductor McGuire. A year later, +when her father retired, he was a rich man. At +the suggestion of a widowed sister, the ex-merchant, +his daughter, and the widow went abroad. +At twenty-two she had been “finished” by +travel, and heart-whole, was headed for home. +She had seen a great deal of people and things. +She had been wooed by an Italian count and had +had a brush with a baron at Berlin, but she had +never been thrilled as she had been with the +touch of the hand and the sound of the voice of +McGuire. She was probably the only American +heiress who had given any attention to the +poorly paid conductors of the European railways;[Pg 162] +the shabby guards, who run along the +platform in soiled uniforms, cry the name of +the station, flourish a flag, and open and shut +the doors. Her conductor was as well dressed, +as handsome, as intelligent, and almost as well +paid as the captain of an Atlantic liner. These +poor beggars were dirtier than the average +second cabin deck-steward.
+ +She was forever making comparisons, and +wondering why she did it. A thousand times +she had recalled his ardent glance when, as he +told her in unmistakable language the story of +his love, he had kindled the first fire in her +girlish heart, and it had not gone out.
+ +Of course, he could never be anything to +her, and yet, try as she would, she could not +forget. Without knowing why, she had conceived +a deep interest in railways. She watched +the men at work, marked the coming and going +of trains in various countries, the inferior train +service and accommodation on the continental +railways of Europe.
+ +Lately she had been studying the financial +reports of the various railways on both sides of +the Atlantic, and reading the stock quotations.
+ +[Pg 163]
+ +This was probably because her father had +invested a vast amount of money in a new road +in the West. She remembered that she had +been eager to have him do this, and now felt a +certain amount of responsibility, and so was +quietly educating herself.
+ +She often wondered whether the handsome +conductor had heard of the new road in which +she had half her fortune.
+ +At times she went so far as to fancy herself, +when left alone in this unfeeling world, seeking +advice from the man who had carried her out of +the snow-bank. And then she would ask herself +how he could help her, this obscure conductor +of a narrow-gauge railroad that wound among +the hills and ravines of the Rocky Mountains.
+ +Mr. Landon had left his business in the hands +of his solicitors, in whom he had perfect faith, +and had given himself over to rest for the past +four years. Upon his arrival in London he +learned that the new road, in which he had invested, +had been roughly handled; not by stock-jobbers, +who are the dread of small investors, +but by competing lines. They had made the +mistake which is so often made, of sending out, +[Pg 164]as manager, a well-educated, perfectly respectable, +handsomely attired, but utterly incompetent +son of a bondholder, who didn’t know +a stop signal from a three-throw switch. The +road had lost money from the start, but a rich +and indulgent father had insisted upon keeping +the young man as manager, and it was not until +a well-known railway king had secured a controlling +interest that the young man was permitted +to return to his tandem and pink-tea.
+ +Things were going better, lately, he learned, +since the road had been in the hands of a +“native manager,” and so the capitalist and +his charming daughter spent another year in +London.
+ +“Papa,” said Miss Landon, from her storm-blanket, +one day in mid-ocean, “do you know +a great deal of the success of this company is +due to the employees?”
+ +“Yes.”
+ +“Well, it’s the same on a railway.”
+ +“Ah, Kate,” laughed her father, “you’re +always railroading.”
+ +“Well, I was just thinking (she paused for +just a breath) that if that young Mr. McGuire +[Pg 165]is still conductor (another impediment) you +ought to try and get him on our road.”
+ +“Now, whatever made you think of that +handsome young Irishman?”
+ +“Well—”
+ +“Well?—”
+ +At that moment the band having assembled +on deck, not twenty feet away, struck up a +lively quickstep, and the sound of the E flat +thrilled Miss Landon, as she had not been +thrilled since she came out of her teens. She +knew that tune, though she had heard it but +once, and as the leading cornet walked up +through the air, the words came to her:—
+ +No man can make money or acquire fame +without accumulating enemies; that’s the price +of success. To be sure they may not be all +big men, sometimes not more than two by four, +but they can make trouble. A Boston attorney, +who looked after the interest and voted the +stock of the absent shareholder in the Inter-Mountain[Pg 166] +Air Line, had become the enemy of +General Manager McGuire. This attorney had +had the misfortune to pass through college with +young Van Swell, who had made such a mess +of managing the new road, and who had been +forced to resign to make room for a real railroad +man, so, to use a very expressive railroad +expression, “he had it in for” the new General +Manager. He was a man of influence, and, +when not otherwise engaged, he worked among +the directors, many of whom he knew intimately, +and his work was always against McGuire. The +railway king, who had been the means of making +McGuire General Manager, had been able to +do so by influencing certain shareholders, and +when the Boston attorney had won two or three +of these to his side, the old faction could control +the next election. They would not ask or +expect the resignation of the brilliant young +manager. So long as he was content with that +position they could not, in their own interests, +ask him to resign. But he was ambitious. +Some of his friends had been putting his name +forward as the next president, and that was +wormwood and gall to the Van Swell contingent.[Pg 167] +These rumors, rife in clubs and hotel +lobbies, soon reached the newspapers, and so +the public. As the date for the meeting of the +stockholders drew near, the matter became the +leading topic in the daily press. The stock of +the Inter-Mountain Air Line became sensitive to +the newspaper comments. Every man who had +a dollar in the enterprise was uneasy. Men +who lived like undertakers, off the misfortunes +of others, who made money only when some one +else lost, knew not whether to buy or sell. If +the election could take place now, they could +give a good guess that young Van Swell would +be the next president. If a certain man who +had been abroad for three or four years returned, +took the advice of his friends and voted +his stock instead of allowing his lawyer to vote +it, things might be different. A bushel or more +letters had been following this important, +though somewhat indifferent, shareholder all +over Europe. They had arrived in London +only the day after the important individual had +sailed for New York. Being a modest man, +who considered his comings and goings of little +importance to the general public, he had not +[Pg 168]taken the trouble to notify his friends of his +intentions, but when a list of “distinguished” +passengers had been cabled over, there was a +little flurry in Wall Street. The friends of McGuire +were enthusiastic. McGuire was indifferent. +His friends wired him to come East and +make a fight for the great prize that seemed +almost within his grasp. He refused to +budge. The bright young men who “did the +railroads” on the daily papers had fun with Van +Swell. They wondered whether he would take +his valet and his yacht to the mountains with +him. For a week and a day the excitement +was at fever heat, but out in the Rockies, where +the first frost was touching the oak and the +aspen with silver and gold, the General Manager +of the Air Line kept perfectly cool. The loyal +employees, who had inklings of the doings of the +pink-tea contingent at the East, spoke gently, +almost reverently, to the General Manager. It +would be a pity to lose him, people said, and +many of the leading shippers said openly that +they would give the Air Line no business if the +town lost this genial official. The switchmen +“offered” to strike. Of all the people interested,[Pg 169] +directly or indirectly, McGuire showed +the least anxiety. Finally, the knowing ones +guessed the cause of his indifference, which was +now beginning to alarm his enemies. He had +things “cut and dried,” said the knowing ones, +and it began to look that way. But it was not +so. There was a shadow upon the heart of the +General Manager. Few men in America had +made greater success or reached a higher place +in the railway world in a lifetime than this +man had gained in thirty-five years, and yet he +was not happy.
+ +Now, as the time for the election of a new +president drew near, the pressure became so +great and the cry for McGuire at the seat of +war grew so loud, that the General Manager +yielded, reluctantly, and made ready for the +journey. He might have carried his private +car, for there was not a line between the Atlantic +and the Pacific that would hesitate to handle +it; but he contented himself with the section +to which his Pullman pass entitled him, and his +annual transportation. So quietly did he depart +that none of the papers knew of it until he +was far out on the plains. He had never been +[Pg 170]in Boston. She might be living there and now. +As the train bore him out toward the Atlantic +he began to wonder whether he might see her +driving in the park with her dignified old +father or (he dreaded the thought) with her +husband.
+ +[Pg 171]
+ON A ROLLING SEA
+ +When the band ceased playing, Miss +Landon’s father had closed his eyes and +had doubtless forgotten that his daughter had +mentioned the conductor of the snow-bound +train in which they had once travelled. But +she had not forgotten, and now sat musing on +the past and dreaming of the future. The sea +was dead calm, and but for the vibration of the +ship, caused by the machinery, and the slight +lifting and lowering of the huge vessel as she +ploughed through the ocean, one might have +fancied that she was riding at anchor. The sun +shone dimly through an autumn haze. Here +and there the curving spine of a leaping porpoise +split the surface of the silver sea, that lay like a +great drop of molten lead. Far out toward the +banks a whale was spouting like a hose at a +fire. Now the big liner turns from her path to +nose about an old scow that is drifting, bottom +[Pg 172]side up, with the current of the sea. A half-dozen +gulls with steady wing stand above the +stern of the ship. Some of the passengers are +walking, some are dozing, others are reading, +and all are apparently perfectly contented. As +the sun went down the sea came up, and the +big ship began to roll. When it was dark, save +for the stars that stood above the ship, she began +to pitch. One by one the women left their +places and went below. When the bugle +sounded for dinner not all the men and a very +few women sat down in the great dining-hall. +The neglected tables groaned under the good +things that were left untouched. The band +played cheerily in the little bower above, while +the white-gloved stewards hurried out with the +empties, and came back with the nuts and pudding +and electric ice-cream. Before the meal +was over the ship was rolling so that they had +to lash on the sideboards. Only one woman +remained at the captain’s table. She was a +good sailor. Presently the big ship lifted her +nose until all the people held on to the tables, +and then she gave a twist and came down on +one corner. She went so low that the sea +[Pg 173]came up and wet all the windows. It reached +up to the promenade deck, leaped to the +bridge, over the ladies’ saloon, and tore away +six yards of the canvas fence, behind which the +captain stands. It came along the deck, a +solid stream, two feet and a half deep. It +gathered up all the steamer chairs and drove +them in a drift against the fence that marks +the line between the first and second class. +The people, men and women, who had stayed +upon deck, were washed along, and piled up +among the chairs. Mr. Landon, who was a +poor sailor, slid out of his chair that was +lashed to a railing that ran along the wall, and +went, half bent, head first, for the heavy fence +that runs round the ship. He ran so fast, +when the ship sat on edge, that he could not +straighten up, and before any one could reach +him his head hit the railing. He went down +like a man under a sandbag, and then the flood +came and heaped the company’s property and +a lot of people on top of him. When the sea +went down from the deck, and they gathered +the old man up he was dead,—but he came +to again.
+ +[Pg 174]
+ +A thoughtful and sympathetic woman rushed +down to the dining-saloon and broke the news +of the accident to the handsome young woman +who was smiling over a glass of champagne at +the captain.
+ +“Oh! Miss Landon! yo’ father’s dead.”
+ +Miss Landon put down the glass and got to +her feet. She swayed a bit, and the captain +steadied her. “Is that true?” she asked, +gazing at the woman.
+ +“Well, he was; he’s better now; he—”
+ +“Thank you. It was thoughtful of you to +come and tell me.”
+ +With the help of the captain and the chief +steward (for the ship was rolling) she passed +out. She was very pale, but there was just a +hint of a smile upon her handsome face.
+ +The sympathetic, thoughtful woman sank +into a chair, and looked foolish.
+ +When the ship’s doctor had bathed the old +gentleman’s face and whipped over the rent in +his scalp, he was able to talk to his daughter.
+ +His sister, the girl’s aunt, was helplessly seasick, +and if there is a time in a man’s life, or a +woman’s life, when a man or a woman is utterly +[Pg 175]incapable of sympathy for any human being who +is foolish enough to want to live, it is when a +man or woman is helplessly seasick.
+ +“Papa was wholly unconscious for ten minutes, +auntie,” said Kate.
+ +“Oh, how glorious! If I could only put this—umph! +horrid—Oh! ship and this heaving, +tossing sea, and every—umph! thing and +everybody out of my mind, and then get out +myself, for ten minutes, I’d strangle the doctor +who brought me back to this miserable, howling, +rolling, watery old world.”
+ +In spite of her troubles (she was not feeling +any too fit herself) Miss Landon laughed at +this pessimistic tirade from her usually even-tempered +aunt.
+ +[Pg 176]
+THE NEW PRESIDENT
+ +That night Miss Landon lay in her narrow +bed, made short-stops of her elbows, and +listened to the lash and roar of the rolling sea. +At times the ship sank so deep into the main +that one would fancy the keel scraping the bottom +of the Atlantic. Nowhere in this world +does one feel one’s insignificance and utter helplessness +more than at mid-ocean in such a sea. +Miss Landon found herself thinking how helpless +she would be in the world if that kind, +indulgent father were to pass away. Half her +fortune was invested in a railway along with the +fortunes of friends and neighbors, who knew +nothing about the business. Naturally enough +her mind went back to her own experience on +a mountain railroad, and to the handsome conductor. +She went to sleep thinking of McGuire, +dreamed of McGuire, and woke up with McGuire +fresh in her mind, and marvelled at it.
+ +[Pg 177]
+ +For three days and nights the sea rushed past +the rolling ship, and Landon lay in a semi-sane +condition.
+ +Finally, at dawn one day, the ship slowed +down and picked up a pilot out of a small boat +that was floundering in the ocean and apparently +enjoying it.
+ +“I want to see one of your passengers, a +Mr. Landon, before I go upon the bridge, +captain,” said the man.
+ +“Mr. Landon is not fit to be seen,” said the +captain. “He had an accident Monday afternoon +off the banks.”
+ +“But I must see him, captain.”
+ +“Well, you persistent old salt, if you must, +then take my advice and see his daughter, she’s +a whole lot better-looking.”
+ +“I have a very important message for your +father, Miss Landon,” said the pilot, making a +sailor’s bow.
+ +“Thank you, I’ll take it.”
+ +“But—I have sworn to give it into no +hands but his, and I—”
+ +“Can’t trust me?”
+ +“Oh, yes, miss—but—”
+ +[Pg 178]
+ +Now the poor man had become so confused +that he had allowed the handsome, irresistible +young woman to take the letter. She tore it +open, glanced at the signature, and said, “Oh, +this is all right, it’s from papa’s former business +partner. He wants papa to do nothing until +he sees him. Well, I’m sure he won’t do +much, poor dear.”
+ +“Then you’ll be responsible, miss?”
+ +“Oh, yes, I’ll be responsible.”
+ +The pilot bowed again and ran up the ladder.
+ +When the big ship crawled up through the +fog, slowed again and picked up the Government +trunk-riflers, a man threw up a lump of +coal with a letter and a five-dollar note held to +it by a rubber band.
+ +“Keep the dough and give that letter to +Landon,” the man called up to the deck-steward +who had caught the coal.
+ +When Miss Landon had opened this letter, +which was from her father’s solicitor, whom she +disliked, she laughed. “‘Do nothing until you +see me.’ I never saw such a lot of do-nothing +people.”
+ +Now another tug came nosing up to the +[Pg 179]liner, as a herring noses about a floating biscuit, +and up came another lump of coal with a note +and a dollar. The note was addressed to Mr. +Landon, and stated that the “Daily Broker” +would like to speak to him. Miss Landon +crumpled the paper in her hand, leaned over +the railing and looked down upon the paper +man who had his chin pointed at the funnels of +the big boat.
+ +A man with a happy, round red face leaned +over the side and said, “You can’t see Mr. +Landon.”
+ +“Why?”
+ +“He’s hurted.”
+ +“Bad?”
+ +“Purty bad.”
+ +When the “Daily Broker’s” extra edition +came out with the elaborate account of the +distressing accident to Mr. Landon, there was +excitement in Wall Street. Naturally the Van +Swells, while deeply deploring the accident to +the estimable old Yankee, were elated at the +prospect of his being unable to vote at the +election which would take place in three +days.
+ +[Pg 180]
+ +The “Daily Broker” told how the old man +had gone, against the captain’s protest, upon +the hurricane deck when the ship was rolling, +had slipped and fallen down the narrow ladder, +broken his left arm and three ribs. These +wounds, the paper said, were not necessarily +fatal, but it was thought by the ship’s doctor—who +being slightly deaf talked very low, as deaf +people do—that the venerable New Englander +had sustained serious internal injuries.
+ +Nearly every one had left the steamer when +Miss Landon came down the gangway, followed +by four stewards carrying her father, who, +being rich, was attended by the ship’s surgeon. +Miss Landon was bewildered by the crowd of +brokers, reporters, and friends assembled at +the steamer. She had never dreamed that the +Landons were of such importance. Her aunt +took little note of anything, being obliged to +pinch herself to see whether she still lived. +The ship’s surgeon, appreciating the importance +of his patient, refused to allow even the most +intimate friends of the injured man to speak to +him. He went with them to their hotel and +remained until another physician could be +[Pg 181]called. The new doctor was worse, if anything, +than the ship’s doctor. This was a severe blow +to the solicitor, who knew better than to try to +get to his client via the daughter.
+ +On the following day Miss Landon persuaded +the doctor to allow her father’s old business +partner and neighbor from Gloucester to see +the sick man. Landon’s mind was still wavy, +but in the course of a half hour’s talk the visitor +made it pretty clear to the injured man that if +the Van Swells got control of the road, in +which they were deeply interested, they would +be likely to be squeezed out; if not, the road, +under such incompetent management, would +be sure to lose money.
+ +“It’s Kate’s money,” said the sufferer. “She +railroads all the time, let her use her judgment,” +and it was so agreed.
+ +The day before the date on which the election +was to take place they moved on to Boston. +When they were established in a comfortable +hotel, their Gloucester friend asked to be +allowed to introduce the gentleman who was +being brought forward, without any effort upon +his part, as the choice for President of the +[Pg 182]anti-Van Swell faction, to which the Landons +rightfully belonged.
+ +Now when the army of reporters saw the +stranger going up in tow of the Gloucester +man, they knew that the pink-tea people were +beaten, for Landon’s vote was sure to elect—it +was the balance of power.
+ +“This is Mr. McGuire, Miss Landon,” said +the Gloucester man.
+ +McGuire, who was utterly indifferent to most +people and most things in this world, was visibly +affected. Miss Landon, who had fainted but +once, clutched at the back of her chair. McGuire, +finding his voice and feet, stepped forward, +saying, in far-away, tremulous tones, like +a man talking in his sleep, “I think I have had +the pleasure of meeting Miss Landon.”
+ +The Gloucester man managed to rally from +his surprise and introduced “Auntie,” who until +now had not seen the distinguished railroader.
+ +“Is it possible?” Miss Landon heard herself +say right to the man’s face.
+ +At this moment a street piano under their +windows broke loose with the then raging +popular air:—
+[Pg 183]
+“Yes,” said McGuire, taking her hand again, +“it is possible.”
+ +Two hours later the Gloucester man was +handing a carefully prepared “interview” to +the reporters.
+ +Mr. Thomas McGuire, the brilliant young +manager, who was a personal friend of Mr. Landon’s, +would be the next President of the Inter-Mountain +Air Line. This arrangement, while +tacitly understood beforehand, had been definitely +agreed to at a conference between Mr. +Landon and his friend and former partner, +who would represent the injured man at the +meeting to-morrow.
+ +[Pg 184]
+THE MAID OF ERIN
+ +“You sent for me?” asked the General +Manager of the Vandalia.
+ +“Yes,” said the President. “You remember +Tom McGuire?”
+ +“Is he the fellow that rode a mule into +the White Mail one morning at West Silver +Creek?”
+ +“The same freckled Thomas.”
+ +“Well, I can’t say that I remember him, for +I have never seen him; but I have not had an +opportunity to forget the story of his having +saved a couple of trains for the company. +Every time I go down the Line someone reminds +me of his heroism. It got to that pass +that when I heard the car hit the East Bridge +I looked up. In would come this man’s father, +who is now roadmaster on the west end, and +say, ‘There’s phare Tommy—’ and if I +happened to be alone the conductor would +[Pg 185]break the great news to me, until I am sick +of the story.”
+ +“Well,” said the President, “this Thomas is +coming over the road to-day. He has just +been re-elected President and General Manager +of the Inter-Mountain Air Line. He is bringing +a wife with him; the daughter of one of the +directors, and I want to arrange a little surprise +for him.”
+ +“That means a special train, I suppose?”
+ +“No, that would not surprise him, for they +are running him special over the Pennsylvania. +Do you think we could make time with his car +on the White Mail?”
+ +“Well, we can try it. I’ll wire Sedgwick to +give us the best engines on the road. It will +please him, I dare say, to ride down on the +White Mail.”
+ +“Please him! why the Van will get all the +business that originates on the Inter-Mountain +for the next hundred years.”
+ +“Shall you meet him at the train?”
+ +“Ah, yes. We’re very good friends; he +did his first work for me when I was general +passenger agent.”
+[Pg 186]
+An hour later the office boy handed a piece +of white paper to the Trainmaster, upon which +was written:
+ +“Put President McGuire’s car, ‘Maid of +Erin,’ on the White Mail to-night. G. M.”
+“Who gave you this, boy?”
+ +“G. M.”
+ +“Himself?”
+ +“That same.”
+ +“Well, you take this back and ask him if he +means the Night Express.”
+ +Presently the boy came back, stopped in +front of the Trainmaster’s desk, and startled +the office by reading aloud:
+ +“Trainmaster, St. Louis, Vandalia, Terre +Haute and Indianapolis Railroad, Indianapolis:—
+ +Put President McGuire’s car, ‘Maid of +Erin’ on the White Mail to-night. G. M.”
“Who told you to read that?” shouted the +indignant Trainmaster.
+ +“The G. M. told me to read it to you and +see that you understood it.”
+[Pg 187]
+There was a mischievous twinkle in the boy’s +eye, and gore in the eye of the T. M.
+ +The operators, bending over their keys, +glanced at each other, but there were no comments. +There is very little talking in the +office where the despatchers work.
+ +“Here, boy,” said the Trainmaster, handing +a piece of clip to the messenger. “Take that +to the yardmaster.” This order read:
+ +“Hook the ‘Maid of Erin’ on the White +Mail to-night.”
+ +“Who gave you this message?” demanded +the yardmaster.
+ +The boy was ready to explode with fun.
+ +“The T. M.”
+ +“Well, you go back, sonny, and ask him if +he’s off his nut, see?” The boy reached for +the paper, but the man held it back. “Go +and ask Mr. Gilroy to explain this to you,” +said the yardmaster. “Ask him if he means +the White Mail or the Night Express.”
+ +Presently the boy came back, and, hooking +his white light on his arm as he had seen +passenger conductors do, he stood in the +centre of the yardmaster’s office, and, having +[Pg 188]first arrested the attention of the switchmen, +engineers, and firemen who were “railroading” +there, read aloud:
+ +“To the yardmaster, St. Louis, Vandalia, +Terre Haute, and Indianapolis Railroad, +Indianapolis:—
+ +Hook the ‘Maid of Erin’ on the White +Mail to-night. T. M.”
“Damn your skin, kid, who told you to +read that?”
+ +“The T. M. Told me to read it to you +and see that you understood it, see?”
+ +The engine had just been coupled to the +White Mail, that had come in carrying green +signals, when the special, running as second +section of No. 1, whistled in. The President +of the Vandalia boarded the “Maid of Erin,” +introduced the General Manager, and they were +in turn introduced to Mrs. McGuire. By this +time a yard engine had dashed up out of a +siding, picked up the car, and set her gently +on behind the White Mail.
+ +“What time shall we reach the river?” +asked the President of the Inter-Mountain.
+ +“At 7.50,” said the President of the Vandalia.[Pg 189] +“Possibly 7.49, but it will not be 51, +Tommy, you can bet on that.”
+ +“To-morrow night,” said McGuire, surprised +but smiling. “How pokey you are!”
+ +“To-morrow morning, if you please.”
+ +“What, you’re not running us special? Now +I don’t want you to do that.”
+ +“No, you are going on a regular train,” +said the Van man.
+ +“Then,” said McGuire, waving his hand +enthusiastically, “we’re on the White Mail. +Kate, do you hear? we’re going through on +the White Mail to-night. Say, this is—”
+ +“Good night! Good-bye,” said the officials, +for the car was going. The yard engine was +giving them a kick out over the switches, and +by the time the President and General Manager +got to the rear platform the train was +making fifteen miles an hour. The headlights +of the pony shone full upon the happy faces +of the bride and groom on the rear of the +“Maid of Erin,” and with a hurried last +good night, the two officials dropped off, one +on either side.
+ +They had long since ceased to carry passengers[Pg 190] +on the White Mail, and the engineer, who +is not always consulted, wondered why they +hung back so that night.
+ +This “Maid of Erin” car had a false bottom, +and between the two floors there was a +layer of forty-five pound steel rails, laid close +together, to weight her down and make her +ride easy. At Terre Haute, the engineer +called the conductor: “What in thunder you +got on behind there to-night, Jack?”
+ +“Private car—‘Maid of Erin.’”
+ +“Huh!” said the old driver, “I thought, +way the damn thing pulled, it must be made o’ +lead.”
+ +When the conductor learned at Terre Haute +that the man in the private car was President +McGuire, Thomas McGuire, freckled Tommy, +who used to run the pump at West Silver +Creek, he could scarcely wait until they pulled +out before going in to see the great railroad man.
+ +When they had passed over the last switch +the conductor went back. McGuire turned +and glanced at the man in the bright uniform.
+ +“I beg pardon,” stammered the conductor, +“I thought you were alone.”
+ +[Pg 191]
+ +“Oh, don’t mention it, we’re railroad +people—sit down. I assure you that you +could not be more welcome.”
+ +“But—I was looking for Mr. McGuire—I +thought he might—well, we used to work +together at Silver Creek.”
+ +“Is your name Connor?”
+ +“Yes, sir.”
+ +“I thought so. Now have you been on this +train since you left Indianapolis, and just now +showed up?”
+ +“But, you’re not Tom—Mr. McGuire?”
+ +“Yes,—I—am—Tom Mr. McGuire,” +and the President took the two hands of the +sallow conductor and looked into his face.
+ +“Katie,” he said suddenly, “this is Jack +Connor—little Jack that helped me detect +the train robbers when we were hiding from +the police. Shake hands with Mrs. McGuire, +Jack, and then sit down.”
+ +Mrs. McGuire had been sleeping for two +hours. Jack had, at McGuire’s request, been +telling him all his troubles. Things were going +from bad to worse. The Engineers and Firemen[Pg 192] +were organized to fight, but the O. R. +C., the conductors’ organization, was opposed +to strikes, and he, this restless, unhappy soul, +was working hard and hopefully for the +formation of a colossal union of all railroad +organizations, against which the soulless corporations +could not prevail.
+ +“But what’s the good of all this work and +worry, Jack?”
+ +“For mutual protection. For the general +welfare of workingmen.”
+ +“Oh, workingmen be hanged! aren’t we +all workingmen? Wait till you are President +of a railroad, Jack. When your nerves are +shaken and your head roars when you go to +bed, and you lie awake half the night trying +to work out a scheme by which you can save +a few millions to the soulless corporation that +is clubbing the wolf away from your door, and, +incidentally, save your reputation and your job, +then you will know what it is to be a workingman.”
+ +Jack smiled pathetically, and glanced about +at the rich hangings and expensive furnishings.
+ +[Pg 193]
+ +“I know what you are thinking now. You +are saying, Tommy seems to be having a pretty +good time. Well, did you ever see a drunk +man who didn’t seem to be having fun? I’m +just married.”
+ +President McGuire had intended to offer +his old playmate a position on the Air Line, +but when he had heard him discourse for a +couple of hours on the relations of “Capital +and Labor,” he changed his mind. “A man +who is always hugging a grievance will forget +to flag,” was what passed through the President’s +mind, and he concluded to leave his +old friend on his native heath, where he was +least liable to get into trouble.
+ +“Jack, my boy,” said McGuire, with his +hand on the door of his stateroom, “you’re +on the wrong leg of the ‘Y,’ and you’ll be +throwing sixes all your life unless you switch. +If I work hard and get to the front, and you +work hard and get to the front—if each +man takes care of his own job, always lending +a helping hand to a fellow-worker when he +can, there won’t be many misfits or failures, +Jack.—Good night.”
+ +[Pg 194]
+OVER THE BIG BRIDGE
+ +Denis McGuire’s successor in the little +shanty down by the bridge had shown +a white light to the driver of the Midnight +Express, and was up, and out with the dawn, to +show a milk-white flag to the men on the White +Mail in the morning.
+ +Down at East St. Louis, Roadmaster +McGuire and Mrs. McGuire, who, in addition +to being “the President’s mother,” continued +to make herself generally useful about the +house, were crossing the big bridge in order +to be at the Union depot when the White Mail +came in with the “Maid of Erin.”
+ +McGuire had been called early, and at +dawn, when the black steed stopped to drink +at Highland, Mrs. McGuire joined him. The +President tried hard to appreciate the situation. +Here was the realization of a dream that he +had not dared dream in his happiest and most +[Pg 195]hopeful moods. He was going over the Silver +Creek bridge on the White Mail and in his +own private car, and he tried to feel perfectly +satisfied with himself and the world. If he +could only work himself up to feeling as proud +and important as he did the day he took +charge of the mule, the tank, and all the company’s +property at West Silver Creek, he would +be glad, but it would not go. He was really +a great man now, and that enabled him to +appreciate what a little bit of a hole would be +left if one great man were to be pulled out +of the world.
+ +The engine screamed. “That’s St. Jacobs,” +said McGuire to his wife, and the station was +behind them. Here the President had his +first disappointment. The man who stood +upon the platform in his shirt sleeves was a +stranger. The old agent was in Texas. Now +the train sank into the sag at East Silver, +lifted again, as an ocean steamer lifts her +huge form over a high sea, screamed on the +ridge, and then went roaring down toward the +bridge. How dwarfed and mean things +looked! The old saw-mill was gone, and only +[Pg 196]a brown heap of sawdust marked the place. The +mill-pond, into which he had taken many a run +and jump from the railroad grade, was a slimy, +stagnant pool covered with green scum.
+ +“Now look, dear!—here—there! There’s +where the White Mail got mixed up with me +and the mule.”
+ +“But where’s the bridge, dear? Show me +the bridge you used to guard, and the—”
+ +“There, that’s it. Isn’t it little? Why, I +used to fancy that was about the biggest bridge +on the road.”
+ +“But you’re a big boy now, Tommy,” said +his wife, patting him playfully on the back, +“and things look different.”
+ +The whistle sounded again, and the “Maid +of Erin” whipped round the curve at Hagler’s +tank.
+ +There was a steady pull against the grade +for a few moments, and then the President +felt the train falling into the broad bottoms +and saw the bluffs lift in their wake. He +turned, and stole a look at the handsome +woman who had left a luxurious home on the +Atlantic to follow him into the West. He +[Pg 197]began now to appreciate his prize, and his +other successes grew insignificant and mean, +like the bridge, and the pond, and the mill-site. +Feeling his glance, she turned her smiling +face to him, bright and beautiful as the breaking +morn, and he thought then that he had +tasted what men call happiness.
+ +With a rush and a roar, they swept up the +incline, and McGuire, glancing up and down +the river, said, as a man might say in a +dream: “We’re crossing the big bridge on +the White Mail.”
+ + +Transcriber’s Notes:
+Minor silent changes have been made to regularize hyphenation and +punctuation.
+ +Dialect, slang and archaic spellings have been retained as typeset.