The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1873-09-13
Written for the PREss.1
Night Experiences of Reporter
BY THE ATLANTA WEEKLY MAN.
CHAPTER ~.

on the Track--A RiraI Reporter.
For some time-he could not have told how
long-Mr. Reed lay without moving at the
foot of the steep embankment over which he
had fallen, and which, in this way, had saved
his life. He was somewhat stunned by the
force with which he had struck the ground
and at first was unconscious of everything
except the fact that he was SAFE His next
thought was for the Daily Intimidation. How
could he return in time to make up his re-
ports and place them in the hands of the
compositors, in season for the morning edi.
ton?
Suddenly, he saw on the horizon, a red
light. It. was not star, it was too large and
too near. Was it lamp in some house?
Should he go toward it? Would it lead him
to some place of safety, or was it lighted to
lure him to fate perhaps more terrible than
the one he had just escaped? His hand rest
ed on something cold and hard-the iron rail
of railroad track. This light, then, was that
of locomotive. The embankment, over
which Mr. Reed had fallen, formed one side
of a narrow cut, made in building the rail-
~~fusSf: it had been necessary to strengthen
with masonry the soil which, undermined by
constant dampness, might become loosened-
and the result was this narrow passage, bare
ly wide enough to allow train to pass, and
affordng no room even fer man to stand
outside the rails. The reporter flung amself
desperately at the wall-but the smooth, hard
stone afforded him no hold, and he fell back.
A prisoner stone walls on either hand and
the open sky far above lin.
Mr. Reed saw that there was no hope for
him, except in attracting the attention of the
engineer. Should he shout to him, or should
he strike a match and, improvising torch
from a folded newspaper, wave his journals
tic signal-Iight, and so stop the train? Eth
er of these plans, simple enough in them
selves, had the disadvantage of utter imprac-
was, as We already know, very near the rail-
road track, would perceive the signal quite as
readily as would the engineer. Anything was
better than falling again into their hands.
Mr.. Reed, standing with his face toward
the engine as it came toward him, awaited
his terrible death-a death inevitable as the
unrelenting power of machinery could make
it. Many man, in the wids of South
America. the desert sands of Africa or the
plains of the West, has met death in the
shape of serpent, lion or grizzly bear; but
this monster OF a civilized country, this crea-
ture impelled by no thirst for blood, but by
simple mec hanical forces, was far more pitt
less, more memorable. Its red light glared
like the eye Of an angry Cyclops, as with
steady, unchanging pace it came towards its
victim. The reporter did not fnch-but
stood quietly in the path of his destroyer
Now that death seemed certain-he felt only
surprise that it was so tardy in coming. The
engine must be proceeding very slowly. 1t
came nearer-the hot smoke fell in clouds
round the reporter, and filled the narrow pass
of the railroad track. Mr. Reed, with last
instinct of selfpreservation, sprang at the
engine A few moments more-the engine
had left the long cut-the smoke cleared
away.
The tragedy was changed to comedy.
The reporter found himself comfortably re-
Ginning upon the cow-catcher. He had leisure
to collect his thoughts and at once decided
that the engine was under little pressure Of
steam, 1t was this that had saved him; but
in order to return to New York in time to
make his report Of Avenue A; to write his
narrative Of the robbery; relate the informa-
tion so singularly acquired as to the location
of the telegraph of the Deuastator; and take
the news boat down the harbor to receive, in
advance of the rival sheet, the news brought
by the Montezuma-he must contrive to
hasten the movements of this engine, which,
from fearful, destroying monster, had be-
come an obedient, though not particularly
spirited, beast of burden. Mr.. Reed climbed
along the side OF the engine, which was by
this time going very slowly, swung himself
into the engineers cab, and surveyed the sit
uation. There were no cars attached; the
engine, with IFS tender, formed the entire
train. 1t had broken away from the cars and
was performing its journey alone.
Engineer, stoker, brakemen, passengers
and luggage-I am all of them" said the re-
have free pass-very fortunate; for do not
wish to deIraud the railroad company"
He piled some coal into the engine, and be-
fore long had the satisfaction Of seeing that
its speed began to increase.
The engine entered the station at 42nd
street, as the clocks were striking eleven.
Without waiting for any formalities, Mr..
Reed sprang from his place, very much 1e-
lieved to be rid Of his re. possibility of engn-
eer. He rushed through the depot, and was
stopped at the door by sandy-haired young
man with a notebook and pencil:
''You have come on this runaway engine,
Sir? Pardon mel will detain you only a
moment. What have you done, and how did
you feel when you did it?"
81 have done nothing-I have had no sem
sations-you are reporterp exclaimed Mr..
Reed, and disappeared down side street.
He hailed passing carriage, engaged it for
the remainder of the nght-of which the
work was not yet at an end-and was driven
at furious rate through the almost deserted
streets, toward the Office of his journal.
CHAPTER v.
A Report at Headquarters-"A Locked-up
FOrRl''-FSrst on the Fietd-By Dot and
Line-Back NTH Spoils-A Report from
RiUdi RepOrter-Rewdrded.
At twenty minutes past eleven, everything
was quiet but alive, in the Office Of the Daily
Intimidation. The compositors were at work,
and proot-readers were busy at their labors.
The editors had, with some exceptions, gone
home; and the old chiefeditor, who for the
last hour had been very anxious on account
of Mr.. Reed, an especial favorite of his, had.
after one or two unsuccessful attempts to
write leader in his usual calm and powerful
style, yielded to his solicitude, and was stand
ing at the street door of the office. A car
rage drove up at the gallop and stopped
before the Office. a slender, dark fnnre
sprang out and ran toward the editor. The
light Of a gas lamp fell full upon it. 1t was
Mr. Reed-pale, breathless, bruised; black
ened with coal and smoke; his coat stained
torn, cut-hanging by one sleeve. But It
was nevertheless he. The old editor cauqht
him, half dragged, half carried him up the
Al