Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1884-03-05
[ORNE, ESMERALDA COUNTY, NEW, MARCH 5, 1884
BINLEY AND "46. "
A Poem Written by Sam Davis for
Which Bret Harie Gets the Credit.

WhIch bret Harie Gets the Credit.
The following poem was written
some years ago by Sam Davis on
wager that he could deceive the print
ers. 1t was widely copied and credited
to Bret Harte, whose modesty pre-
vented disclaimer The recent snow
blockades having revived interest in
such subjects, Eastern papers are re-
printing and, as heretofore, giving
Harte as the author:
Upon Wasatchs peaks Of snow,
Night holds illimftable sway,
Where but a single hour ago
The crags and chasms, high and tow,
Resplendent shone with day.
From out the sky no star ray shines =.
Upon the awful solitude
While moaning throagh the tossing pines,
Like some unquiet spirits brood,
The winds swept to and fro,
And seem in saddened mood
To breathe wall on woe.
AT first they only sighed,
But now they moan and sob; :. :
And since the eyentide
Their maddened pulses throb
In quicker, faster flow,
As their fleeting footsteps glide
Der the cold eXQanse of snow.
And all the upper air
Is filed with drifting clouds, -:
While ficnds that revel there
Are weaving shining shrouds;
Tossing in endless whirl,
They reel in goblin mirth.
And then the shrouds they hurl
On tempest's wings to earth.
Twas 'leven O'Clock near Bridger's Gap,
In a station that swayed i'll the tempest's
sweep,
Where a lightning jerker enjoyed his nap,
When call from the Canon broke his sleep,
And he caught the words from the subtle clicks,
"Send pinley down here with 46.
Soon Binley had mounted his iron steed,
And the fires Of the furnace glowed again,
AS the ponderous monster deyoured its feed,
And rolled from the side track on to the main.
Out on the night where the snowhakes fell,
Out where't the blasts of the tempests roar,
Binley shouted his friend farewell
As he opened the throttle-yalve one notch
more.
Then ever the winding track he sped,
Where the pathway with chasms' and crags
was linedi
The glare OF his great light cleaned ahead,
And the snow like brides vail streamed
behind,
And soon the sound of the clanking steel
Was drowned in the echoes from hill to hill;
He felt the engine sway and reel,
But the throttle went one notch further still.
And down the grade like courser feet !
Plungina through mountains ofdrifted snow,
The engine plows through the crusts of sleet,
And hurls thousand feet below
The ponderous masses that block its way;
Throws them far to the left and right
Into the black. oblvous night.
To reach the Canons by break of day. :.
And now old Binley facls the thrill
That the soldier feels when he meets his foe !;
He opens the throt,le-valve wider still,
And his furnace burns with fercer glow,
As the piston flashes in faster stroke; I
But firm a rock stands the engineer,
And in his honest old heart of oak
There beats not the slightest pulse of fear.
But soon the engine is running slower,
Though its pathway lies on level grade;
And then IA tremor comes'stealing DER
Binley's hand on the throttle laid.
There's Stacking up of the driving-wheel,
While the engine struggles with human will !;
Then slowly ceases the clnk of steel,
And the painting monster is standing still.
Thicker and faster the drifting snow
Throws round its victim its winding sheet,
And quenches the glare of the headlight s
glow.
As Binley muttcrs . give up beat. =.
Next morning a show-plow forced its way
To the spot where the buried engine lay:
They hewed path through the frozen crust,
And then was the CHASTITY story tofd;
There sat BinlAy'bGside his trust,
With his hand on the Unbelievable stiff and
cold. 5. p. d.