Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1877-05-23
THE DISTRACTED TRACK.

1t was crisp night in October, and
the wind rustied the leaves in the woods
that surround Ytol Vathek's house.
Above the fair girl who looked out of a
small dormitory window shone countless
stars she might have seen Boots and
Orion had she looked up, but that night
the worlds Of Heaven had no attraction
for her.
She was listening to strange sound
born from the west by the nocturnal
breeze that chilled her cheek. 1 might
have said with propriety a succession of
sounds, for it seemed that some persons
were cording wood Or moving heavy
timbers not far away. Save this nose
the night was quiet, and she heard
without interruption from the window
of her simple boudoir.
Il believe it is in Gwynne's Cut"
she said at last to herself. Perhaps
some villain is obstructing the track for
deyilish purposes. The Red Bird will
soon be due. aud this is Eds trip down"
Her face grew trifie paler as she
spoke, and a moment later she stood
before the ancient wall sweeper in one
Of the lower rooms.
The moonbeanls stealing in at the
window fell upon the face Of the dial,
and told Ytol that it was twelve O'Clock.
Twelve - her lips murmured. What.
twelve. O'Clock, and he whistles to me at
half past. Ny heavens! what if the
track is INSTRUCTED IN the cut!'
With the last word on her lips she
turned and soon left the house.
At the gate she paused moment and
listened. The sounds were still to be
heard. and she believed that they eman-
ated from spot in the cut near the
cattleguard. Then she started toward
again, and crossed the meadow that lay
between her home and her destination.
The stars looked down upon a little
object that glittered like silver in Ytol
Vathek's hand. II was revolver, and
her fingers held it firmly. Once OF
twice she glanced at it to satisfy herself
that it was there. Then looked up
again with an air Of determination.
She was the belle of the country she
inhabited. Her father was dead, and
with her widowed mother and little
brother Of twelve, she dwclt in the
humble house won by the sweat Of that
fathers brow. A railway station called
Beaumont was the only settlement near
and it was six miles from her home.
She seldom went thither, for there was
no society there, and she could enjoy
herself better at home.
The track of iron was the making Of
Beaumont, for the road was new, and
towns were springing up all along the
line. Ytol could see the cars from her
window, and often had she sat there un-
til the flaming headlight Of the mid
night express had appeared and dis
appeared. An opening in the woods
enabled her to see the light for a mo-
ment, and then the lighted windows Of
the coaches.
Did the engineer know that she was
watching-that his engine gave two
shrill shrieks as it reached the opening
two shrieks that seemed to say, 'Ytol!
Ytol?" she always smiled when she
heard the sounds, and with the smiles
lingering on her face, or a blush, she
would listen till the rumbling of the
train died away beyond the cramped
boundaries of monumental Beaumont.
| That brace Of shrIeks, loud and
shrill, told her who drove that engine
toward the great city on the Mississippi's
banks. They reoched the day, one
year since, when the first engine she
had ever seen stopped at Beaumont,
scarcely station then. The engineer
was young and handsome, and when he
saw her examining the great driver
wheels and looking with wonderment
upon the mighty beauties Of his iron
pet, he leaped to the ground.
"a pretty piece of machinery" he
said to her. land she goes like a bird!''
She blushed when she caught his
eve, and the sound Of his voice thrilled
her.
Overcoming her timidity. he helped
her into his cosy apartment on the
engine and explained to her the Won
drous mechanism of the beautiful mon
ster. Then he said goodbye, and she
saw the train move off, and his hat
waving from the engine was the last
thing she saw as it darted round the
curve.
A week later she found herself at the
station talking to him again. Their
meeting seemed purely accidental, and
no doubt 1t was such; but I am sure
that the meetings thet followed it. were
not. BY and by Ed. Gordon, the engineer
carried picture over his heart, and on
Ytol's bureau lay the photographers
semblance Of his face.
Thus the acquaintance at the station
during the Red Rird's trial trip over the
new road, had ripened into love, and
the two midnight shrieks told her that
be was safe and driving his engine to-
ward the river metropolis. She sat at