Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1878-10-08
Ten Minutes Late.

Ten Minutes Late.
In 10 there wasn't a likelier fellow
on the line than George Kirke.
He was the son of a poor man, and
his mother was dead His father was
confirmed invalid of the rheumatic or
der, and George played the dutiful son
to him in a way that would astonish
the young men of to-day. Somehow
nobody knew exactly how-George had
managed to pick up a good education,
and he had polished it off, so to speak,
by years course at commercial col
lege.
Kirke began on the Stony Hill Rail-
road when he was about twenty-one or
twenty two years old. First, he was a
brakeman. This railway business is a
regular succession, and, generally speak
ing, man has to work his way up. It
isn't often that he works his way up to
the dignity of conductor at one step,
with the chance to pocket ten cent
scripts. and with the privilege of help
ing all the good-looking and we'll
dressed young ladies out of the cars,
and letting the homely ones, with ba-
bies and bandboxes in their arms, STUN
VIC OuU do OCcU UACy Iluys
George did his duty so well that he was
soon promoted to fireman, and after he
had learned the working of the machine,
he was made engineer and given an en-
CINE.
The engine was one of the newest and
best on the line, and was called the fly
away, and George was very prOund Of
her, you may well believe.
[ tell you sir, your true engineer-one
that is out and out for the business, and
feels his ponsibility-takes as much
pride in his engine as the jockey does
in his favOrite race horse and would sit
up nights, or neglect his sweetheart, te
keep the brasses and filagrees of his ma
chine SOS you could see your face in 'em
There was another man who wanted
Georges chance. There's generally
more than one after every good paying
job.
Jack Halliday had been waiting some
time to be engineer of the Flyaway, and
when he lost it he was mad enough tc
pull hair. He was brakeman, likewise
and had been on the road two years
longer than Kirke, and it would seem
that the chance really belonged to him
yet he was a quarrelsome, disagreeablt
fellow, with impotence enough tt
have set an emperor up in business, anC
still have some left.
When Jack realized that George had
got the inside track of him, his anger
was at white heat. He cursed Kirke
and cursed the company, and old
Whately, the superintendent, and things
generally, until it seemed pity there
was not something else to curse-he was
in such fine cursing order.
There was more than one thing thai
roodo Toolr Ha1Ii6ou dawn an Gaornx
Kirke. George had been his rival in
many respects, and particularly where
the fairer creation was concerned
George was favorite with the girls, fol
he was handsome and generous, and
good-natured, and Jack was sarcastic
and always on the contrary side, and the
girls avoided him as they always should
such man.
We always expected that ill would
come to George from Jacks bad blood
against him, and we warned him more
than once, but he always laughed, and
reminded us of the old saw that clark
ing dogs seldom bite" which is true in
the main.
And, as the time went on, until two.
three, four months had passed since
Kirke's promotion, and nothing had oc-
CURED, we forgot all about our appre-
the matter at all, we thought we had
wronged Halliday by suspicious.
1t was dark night in November, with
considerable fog in the air, and strong
appearance of rain.
L was at GOlosha, the northern termi-
nus Of the road, looking after some re-
pairs on defective boiler, and [ was
going down to New York on the Isl
train-Kirke's train.
About seven there came a telegram
from old Whately, whose summer resi-
dence was nearly midway between
Golosha and New York; and the ole
heather had not yet forsaken it for the
city. The telegraph operator came into
the house where Kirke was at work-fol
he was always at work-and read it to
him. Kirke made note of it in his
memorandum book.
"Pay train on the line. Will meet you
just west of Leeds at 1915. Shunt on tc
the siding at behring's Cut and wait
WHATELY."
Kirke's watch hung on a nail beside
the clock. 1t was fancy of his always
to hang it there when he was eff the
train, so that he could make no mistake
in the time. He glanced at the clock
and from it to his watch Both indicat-
ed the same hour-7:15.
"7:15 ~ said Kirke, meditatively, "and
we leave at $50, and the pay train meets
us at behring's Cut at 1918! Scant time
to make the run in this thick weather
but it must be managed"
And he turned away to give some brie1
orders to the fireman.
Jack Halliday was there-he had been
stro,ling in and out of the room for the
past half hour, smoking a cigar and
swearing at the bad weather. His train
did not leave till near midnight, so he
had plenty oftime to swear.
We all went to the door and took a
look at the weather, and unanimously
voted it deuced bad, and then we walk
ed up and down the platform and smok
ed our after-supper cigars, and by the
time we were through, it was time for
the train hands to be getting into their
places. Both the clock in the engine
room and Kirke's watch indicated 7:3S.
Kirke was putting his watch in his
pocket, as he said:
Garth. are you going with me on the
Flyaway?"
mo, thank you,'' said I. 81 get
enough of that sort of thing in my ev-
ery-day life. l am going to do little
swell business tonight, and take passage
in the palace car. Want to rest my back.
Goodnight to you, and hold her in well
ound Rocky Bottom curve. The road
is little shaky."
AYE, aye, sir" responded Kirke, and
swung himself to his position on the
Flyaway.
The bell rang, l scrambled to my COM
partment in the Pullman, and felt horri-
bly, out of place among the silks and
broadcloths and smells of musk. But /
was in for first Glass;" and made the
best of it so effectually that five minutes
after, Gibson, who fancies he owns all
creation because he has silver coffin
plate on his breast, with Conductor"