Black smoke belches from the engine s funnel and taints the air with cinders. The elevated railway bed rides high, due to the instability of the swampy ground beneath it. The area between the sawmill and the packinghouse is pitted with bogs and sloughs, nurtured by the deep-seated springs that slink below the surface. As the engine and tender near the Y turn-off, the engineer focuses on the intricate moves ahead. But this time the ground rebels.
Legends live on opposing views.
They can grow as strong on denials as they can on claims of veracity. Some legends have more than a little truth as their base. Others have so much detritus jamming their pores that it is difficult to tell where truth stops and fantasy begins. It depends on whom you ask. The fact that the incident in question occurred almost 80 years ago tends to complicate the issue.