The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1869-08-05
Gales, gkttebes, 4netOotes, Gt.
IN THE JAWS OF DEATH.

I'm an engIne>driver on the great West
by-North railway. We don't chase light
ming over the priries on our line, for we're
slow, and pretty sure. Ours is a new
line-a very new One-running through
miles of unsettled country. For years
past I've drove on that line. drove
there when it ian only twenty miles; and
L saw and ran along ihat line as it stretch>
ed out farther into the great region west
ward till it went its hundreds.
We've cow-catchers on our engines, and
nothing TO laugh at neither. On your
few mlle-long lines you can fence. But
when your line happens 10 get over a thou
sand miles, fencing comes expensive, and
makes hole in the profits so that it
was soon found necessary to have some
thing in front that would throw off a COW,
or bullock, if it had strayed on the line;
else, being an obstinate sort of beast. he
might throw off the train. For they will
stray, and there's no mistake about them.
when you see them there and sound the
| hOrn-for we use that as well as the whis-
| tle-instead of the stupid thing getting of
and into safety, they'll 60 galIoping off in
their clumsy, cocktail, one-two three am
! bie, till we catch up to them, and then
well, / should say that in my time have
/ made beef of score of cows, though ]
never made an end of a frllow>creature
| yet was very near ii though, once.
0u We laughed about the etokers going
/ out IN front, on to the cow-catcher. 10
heave billets of wood at the brutes but
IT'S TACT and I've done It before now ::
and good crack from q cornerish piece
| OF wood has saved EN-, making them give
kick and a plunge off the single line.
and giving Us room to go by.
But there are things that will not get
out Of the way, do what you will; ! be,
lIeve you might sound the horn or whistle.
or whatever you'd got, at any old woman
who was crossing the line, and she'd only
stand still and stare while, If you had a
billet OF wood she'd only shake her U n brel-
la at you, and call you villain. They're
dreadful creatures, old women are, and if
it wasn't for the thought that they were
young, l don't know how we should bear
them. They don't seem to understand
railways at all; they never have their
tickets ready; they're always either too
soon or too late, and when once they're in
the car, they bother every one to death,
and drive the guard mad by expecting
that folks have entered into a conspiracy
to carry them past their destination. =
Why, friend of mine, a guard on the
line between New York and Chicago.
once told me of an old lady going to the
last place and wanting to get off at the
first station.
Well, putting cows first and old women
second, the next on the list, to my way of
thinking, are children, bless 'em love
children, got half a score of them myself,
but they always give me the cold shivers
when | see them near a railway. For
you see, 1 suppose for comDany's sake,
being an out of the way, lonely spot, there
was chap built himself a log shanty
close to the line, where he had made bit
of clearing, and perhaps he thought it
would be bit of comfort for his wife and
little ones to see the trains 60 by with peo-
pie in the cars, besides being bit of pro-
lection from the wandering tribes about
for you see, where man sets up his tent,
as you may say, out in the wilderness,
he's obliged to run risks; SO any chance,
however small, of making it less risky, is
snatched at.
1 got quite to know these people, and
nice, hard working folks they were. Why,
before they had been there six months,
that bit of wilderness began to look like a
garden of Eden, and two more people came
and pitched in the next bits. quite knew
these first folks, though they never spoke
for I always went by them at twelve miles
an hour but the little ones used to stand
at the shanty door and cheer, and as time
went on I'd wave my hat to the wife, and
the husband, too, so that they generally
used to come out when they heard me