The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1880-01-21

VI ShC lAActhuAiChb
ly and distinctly came to my ear these
sounds;
-. -.
which in spoken words meant:
WATCH THE Boxl
l started as if charge of electricity had
shot through my frame. could fairly feel
my face grow white. stood motionless,
clutching the back of the chair and with my
eyes riveted in vacant stare at the table in
the ticket-office / knew this was no work
of an excited imagination. The words, to my
practioed 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 abruptly, as it had
begun. More than that, it was not the
writing of any operator on any section of
the line. / would have sworn to that with
as much positiveness as you would to the
tones of a voice with which you are familiar.
In the dot-and-dash alphabet we learn to
distinguish who is handling the keys almost
with as much accuracy as Others distinguish
handwriting. And in all my experience 1
had never heard the sounder click off mes
sage like that.
While L stood dazed and almost paralyzed
for you must remember that Old Billy's
nerves were strung TO a terrible pitch that
night-the rapid and unintelligible click
click was resumed as if a denCm again had
got hold of the key. 1t was lully five min
ctes before l mustered courage to pass into
the ticket-office and sit down at the table
myself. Not once in that time had i turned
back to look at the box. Almost on the in
slant of my sitting down at the table the click
ing stopped short, as it had done before, and
then those words were repeated:
WATCH THE Boxl
Every dot, every dash, every letter, every
word came with such horrible distinctness
that it seemed to send sharp pain tingling
through my ears. 1t was like the loud whis-
pering of some ghostly voice. Then, again
broke out the jargon of sound that turned
the clicking into meaningless confusion.
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, i felt my cOur-
age returning. and resolved to heed the mys-
FERROUS warning. The rolling of the thunder
and the mad roar of the storm no longer de-
pressed me. stepped boldly back into my
room, and rcstedmy eyes unfinchingly on
the wooden box. What was its mysterious
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 danger2 These ques-
tions rushed through my mind as 1 felt the
dread fear disappearing, and found myself OF
"a sudden grown strangely calm.
The clock struck 10. / turned to the shelf
and with a hand that no longer trembed in
serted the key, and wound it composedly
Would it be the last time that L should per-
form that simple task2 No matter. Happier
than most men, because content with my
| humble lot, it should never be said that Old
Billy finohed in the face of duty. For that
night it was my duty-my one, sacred, all
important duty-to guard the treasure left TO
my safe-keeping. And guard it ! would
while life remained.
When had finished winding the clock /
took down from the shelf an old rusty pistol
which had lain for years undisturbed. 1t
was not loaded, nor had / either powder OF
bullet anywhere in the station. But the
weapon was ugly-looking, and carried a sort
of silent force in case of too aggressive argu-
ment. After examining the rusty lock, |
put the pistol on the table, made fresh glass
of toddy, drank it, lighted my pipe, and
closed the door that opened into the freight
room. Now that | was thoroughly myself
again, found it easy enough to shut out the
sight of that ominous oblOng box.
1t was not until the clock struck again
that is, I1-that 1 made up my mind to
go to bed. All his time the storm held on,
although the thunder had begun to rumble
more Instantly. / threw off my coat and
slippers, put out the light in the ticket Office
and turned that in my sleeping-room down to
| a low flame. Then / drew the money pack
age from under the mattress and pinned il
securely to my wooden shirt under my vest
| This done, and with the table so placed that
| / could reach both the lamp and pistol,
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 instrument, which had grown
quiet now, clicked off for the third time
loudly, distinctly, slowly, its words of warn
ing:
| WATCH THE BoXl
This time the warning was not needed.
had not gone to bed to sleep, but for thu
very purpose of watching the box. Stand
ing as it did, with the head close to the door
and therefore close to the box itself, the bee
afforded the very best point from which Il
keep an eye on the suspicious freight. HaC
my faith in the Geographic clicking beer
less, or had my own sense of great respon
lsibility deserted me for a single moment
/ certainly should have given up the job o
watching as foolish; and, in that case, it
not likely that this narrative would eve
have been written. But / believed in tn
thrice-repeated message, and / did not lie
drowsiness overcome patience. Twelve, one
two-how very slowly the hours seemed t
drag themselves The low flame of the lam
went out, as the oil had run dry. What
relief it was to hear the clock strikel A
last, somewhere about midnight tn
storm had broken. could Sc
the stars as they came ou
through the window in the freight-roon
| .,hsnla .,-on on q Linn of rririnr with tho hn,