New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1880-09-01
SWATCH THE DOx,n

WA1Cn I11E DVAs"
The 6:2O evening train, No. 80, was
over an hour late that night. Cause
enough, Heaven knows. For twelve
hours the storm had ragged and now in
stead of showing any signs Of breaking
the rain came down in torrents from
the inky sky and tho thunder rolled
ominously overhead. A bad storm to
drive an engine through, as anybody
would have known and the wonder is
that No. 80 was not three hours late in
stead of one. Old Duke Granger, the
trustiest, nerviest engineer on the road,
rounded the curve just below Red Ra-
vine station at twenty-six minutes past
seven. breathed sigh of relief when
I saw tho headlight cut a hole in the
darkness. The station bridge might
have given away in storm like that
and was beginning to get nervous
over this thought.
Somehow everything made me nerv-
Gus that night. 1t was just the kind of
weather when things look all out of
gear, any way.
Then. suppose, the knowledge of
that money pac: age being due and fail
ing to come on the 80, rs it should
have done, had its effect on me. 1didn't
relish the idea of keeping $13, 600 in
cash until the next day. Eldridge &
Ricketson had been down themselves to
meet the morning train and if tho pack
age had come could have turned it
over to them ut once and that would
have been the end of the matter. But
it didn't come. That's a way things
have in this world, when you most want
'em:
There wasn't soul at the station
that night except myself, and there
were only two passengers who got of
the train. speak of 'cm that way not
meaning to be disrespectful, or make
light of solemn things; only its habit, l
suppose; for most people would say
there was only one passenger that got
Oft at Red Ravine. seeing that the Sec
Ond of 'em was carried out of the OK
press car in wooden box. Usually,
when body was coming on got word
beforehand, but this one took me quite
by surprise, and added not littlo to
the nervousness already felt.
"WhO is itP'' 1 asked as the box was
carried into the station.
Tho passenger who had got off the
train and who was stranger to mo,
answered my inquiry.
"rhc body is that of my sistcr-in-
law" said he. She was tho neice of
Thomas Eldridge-doubtlcss you know
him. Her death was very sudden. She
is to be buried in Mr.. Eldridgo's lot
here"
"Then 1 suppose tho body is to be
left in my charge until Tomorrow"
saidI.
"Ycs," answered the stranger. "Do
you suppose that l can get 70 Mr.. FL
bridges myself to-night?'
"Wcll," l replied, "it's good four
miles, and in such storm as this
<"pll wait until Tomorrow" inter-
ruptcd the stranger. "There is some
sort of hotel here, isn't therc?''
eyes, good one. You'll have to
foot it, though; but it's only a matter of a
quarter of q mile, and you can't miss
your way, for the road up tho hill leads
straight to the house."
Here I made my way out to the plat
form again and made my way on tho
express car where the money package,
which all along I had secretly hoped
wouldn't come, was delivered to ME by
the messenger. As he gave it to me no
said: "YOu'l want to keep sharp eye
on that, Billy. There's enough in it to
make one Of your Red Ravincrs put 4
bullet through your head and never
give you the chance to object"
"rll look out for the Red Raviners
and the package, too," said l, conf
IDENTIFY enough But if the truth had been
told didn't like the suggestion which
the messenger had made.
The train moved off quickly and l
swung my lantern, as was my habit, by
way of bidding good night to Luke
Granger. Then l went into the Sta
ton house with the little package
clutched tightly under my rubber coat,
expecting to find the man there who
had come on with the body. But he
had gone, being anxious, no doubt, to
get to the hotel as quickly as possible.
No. 80 was the last train which stopped
at Red Kavine until 6:1O the next morn
ing. So my work for the night was
done and had only to lock up tho
doors, see that things were all right
about the place and sit down to my
newspaper in the little room which
served rs my sleeping quarters.
Twenty years had passed since 1 first
found myself installed ut Red Ravine
as telegraph operator in the railway
station. Being content with the hum
drum sort of life and faithful to my du-
ties, l had come by degrees to attend
to all the work which the place re-
quired. That is, I was the ticket
agent, bagggage-master and keeper of
the station, besides acting for the ex-
press company and continuing my
charge of the telegraph key. These
combined labors made it pretty close
work for me, but they all yielded very
comfortable income; and as I was
troubled with no unsatisfied ambitions.
l counted myself well fixed. As have
intimated, slept in the station, partly
to keep guard on the company's prop
erty and partly from choice; being a
bachelor and without kin, I had moth
ing to attract me elsewhere. My duties
had grown part of second nature and
Ihad lived in the little town 80 long
that the younger generation had come
to speak of me as "Old Billy" That
was, I suppose. because my hair was
getting gay and my joints a little stiff.
The Red Ravine station was a wooden
building, about forty feet long and
twenty feet wide. It was divided into
two compartments, the larger ono be-
ing for freight and baggage and the
smaller ono tor passengers. My own
little room was only piece partitioned
feet square and connected by a door
with box of an Office in the passcn-
gers room, which served both for sell
ing tickets and holding the telegraph
key. In this latter department, also.
was placed the old-fashioned iron safe:
in which locked up my valuable ex-
press packages when any happened to
come to Red Ravinc. Tho village, I
ought to explain, had grown up entire
ly through the influence of the great