The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1880-01-22


was frightened
/ had just risen to wind the little
clock on the shelf, when suddenly out
of the hitherto meaningless ticking of
the instrument sharply and distinctly
came to my ear these sounds:
49,.
which in spoken words meant:
WATCH THE BOX!
I started as if charge of electricity
had shot through my frame. l could
fairly feel my face grow white. stood
motionless, clutching the back of the
chair and with ray eyes riveted in va
cant stare at the table in the ticket-office.
l knew this was no work of an excited
imagination. The words, to my prac-
ticed ear, were as plain as if shouted in
clarion tones. There had come no call
for Red Ravine, and the message ended
without signature or mark, but abrupt
", as it had begun. More than that, it
was not the writing of any operator on
any section of the line. / would have
swown to that with as much positiveness
as YOU would to the tones of voice
with which you were familiar. In the
dot-and-dash alphabet we learn to dis
tinguish who is handling the keys almost
with as much accuracy as others distin-
guish handwriting. And in all my ex-
perience had never heard the sounder
click off message like that.
While stood dazed and almost par
alyzed-for you must remember that
Old Billy's nerves were strung to a ter
rible pitch that night-the rapid and I'M
Ineligible click-click was resumed as if
a demon again had got hold of the key.
1t was fully five minutes before | mus
tered courage to pass into the ticket
Office and sit down at the table myself.
Not once in that time had l turned back
to look at the box. Almost on the in
slant of my sitting down at the table
the clicking stopped short, as it had
done before, and then those words were
repeated:
WATCH THE BOX!
Every dot, every dash, every letter,
every word, came with such horrible
distinctness that it seemed to send a
sharp pain tingling through my ears.
1t was like the loud whispering of some
ghostly voice. Then, again broke out
the jargon of sound that turned the
clicking into meaningless confusion.
l sprang up from the table, and, with
the now strengthened conviction that it
was no delusiOn, no fancy, but that the
sound had come plainly over the wires,
L felt my courage returning, and re-
solved to heed the mysterious warning.
The rolling of the thunder and the mad
roar of the storm no longer depressed
me. 1 stepped boldly back into my own
room, and rested my eyes unfinchingly
on the wooden box What was its myS-
FERROUS freight Why had the phantom
of the storm sent those startling words
over The wires? What unknown hand
had reached out from the very lightning
itself to warn me of some impending
danger? These questions rushed through
nv mind as | felt the dread fear disap-
pearing, and found myself of sudden
grown strangely calm.
The clock struck 10. / turned to the
shelf, and, with a hand that no longer
inserted the key, and wound
it composedly. Would it be the last
time that | should perform that simple
ask? No matter. Happier than most
men, because content with my humble
lot, it should never be said that Old
Billy fiinched in the face of duty. For
that night it was my duty-my one sa-
cred, all-important duty-to guard the
treasure left to my afe-keeping. And
guard it | would while life remained.
When | had finished winding the
clock, l took down from the shelf an
old rusty pistol, which had lain for
years undisturbed. 1t was not loaded,
nor had either powder or bullet any
where in the station. But the weapon
was ugly looking, and carried sort of
silent force in case of too aggressive ar
gument. After examining the rusty
lock, put the pistol on the table, made
a fresh glass of toddy, drank 1t, lighted
my pipe, and-closed the door that
opened into the freight-room. Now
that l was thoroughly myself again,
found it easy enough to shut out the
sight of that ominOus oblOng box.
twas not until the clock struck again,
that is, eleven-that | made up my mind
to 90 to bed. All this time the storm
held on, although the thunder had be-
gun to rumble more distantly. | threw
off my coat and slippers, put out the
light in the ticket-office, and turned
that in my sleeping-room down
to low flame. Then l drew
the money-package from under the
mattress and pinned it securely to my
wooden shirt under my vest. This done,
and with the table so placed that 1 could
reach both the lamp and the pistol, l
opened the door into the freight-room
some three or four inches, and then
threw myself upon the bed. Just as
my head touched the pillow the instru-
ment, which had grown quiet now,
clicked off for the third time, loudly,
slowly, its words of warning:
WATCH THE BOXi
This time the warning was not
needed. l had not gone to bed to sleep,
but for the very purpose of watching
the box. Standing as it did, with the
head close to the door. and therefore
close to the box itself, the bed afforded
the very best point from which to keep
an eye on the suspicious freight. Had
my faith in the Geographic clicking been
less, or had my own sense of a great re-
no Co.. n