The Windham County reformer. (Battleboro, Vt.) 1876-1897, 1885-07-10
THE HUT BY THE WATEREE.
A Tale of South Carolina.

BY WALTER JACKSON.
There were no ladies on the southern. bound
express that mig lit, and most OF the passengers
were either reading or doing in their seats. A
few, with faces pressed against the mist-cloud'
ed glass of the windows, stared drearlly out
ward into the darkness, through which, at in
tervals, the light of some cabin-fire redly gleam'
ed. At all of his fellowtravelers, with their
stupid. ill-natured faces, Claude Rothwell had
long since tired Of gazing. He had drawn his
hat over his eyes, and was settling himself
more comfortably for short sleep, when the
sudden hollow rumbling of the wheels beneath
him caused him to lift his head and listen.
"The swamps of the Wateree," he said, to
himself. "Dick must be trying to make up the
time lost at Florence. He is singing us over
these trestes very recklessly."
He had hardly uttered these words when a
succession of short, sharp shrieks from the
whistle rang through the wet October night
The rattle of chains and the grinding OF break
shoes against the wheels instantly followed.
Several OF the passengers bounded from thell
seats as il they had been galvanized.
"What's the matter p asked one, throwing
| up window and thrusting out his head
ais this the way they blow down breaks here
| abouts :"
Others stared about them in uneasy silence
They felt the speed of the train momentafily
| slackened. Another window went up-anothel
and another At the same time tall, gracelu
man passed up the length Of the car, and lalo
bis hand upon the door. 1t was CLAUDE Ro'h
well, The door opened and closed with bang
The Young man had passed out, and vas STAND
ing on the platform beside the brakeman.
danger ahead, Peter?" he said to the hand
some young mulatto, who was still wrenchine
fercely at the wheel.
Ro;hwell was connected with the road, and
all the employees were known to him.
The brakeman, painting with excitement,gave
the wheel last powerful jerk
"Must be- he said. Mr. Murray don't blow
dat way for nothin', sir"
Rothwell nodded assentngly, and producing
A small fiat lantern from his pocket, stopped to
light it from the wick Of that belonging to the
mulatto.
"Wbey's you goin', SIR" the latter asked,
seeing him arise and attach the lantern to his
waist by small chain.
"To the engine" Rothwell replied, as he
stepped upoli tno Pi"'ioiin VI 'Aie eSN ~
car and entered.
As he passed cut through the upper door the
train came to Standstill.
Luckily, it had stopped on short stretch OF
earth built up on bed of cypress-knees and
reeds. Rothwell sprang from the steps to the
ground, and walked rapidly forward toward the
engine.
On his left the straight gray trunks of the
expresses, rising from the silent black water in
" hich they were growing, family shone in the
white Autumn fog. Before him loomed the en-.
CINE. a mass of mingled light and gloom. A
dim CLEAN from the gage-lamp lit the cab, and
streamed over the wood in the tender. The low
hiss of the steam, the bubble Of water, and the
cracklc of flames in the fire-box, became audi.
BILE as Rothwell drew nearer. AT the front OF
the engine, their faces clearly revealed in the
flood of yellow radiance pouring from the great
headlight above, three men with lanterns were
standing. They were the engineer, fireman and
wood-passer.
Rothweli heard the swift footballs of the con-
ductor on the opposite side OF the train. In g
few moments the two joined the group near the
pilot.
'What is it, Dick :" Rothwell asked, pausinG
beside tie engineer.
The person addressed--tbe son Of the master
mechanic Of that rold and an old schoolmate
| Of Rothwelrs-pushed his cap back from his
brow, upon which the perspiration stood in grea
| beads.
! s'Look there" ne said, waving his lantern to
| ward the end Of the embankment, scarcely {
! yard distant from the end OF the pilot.
Beyond, for half car's-length, nothing wa
to be seen but a stretch OF still black water snC
few cypress knees, CHASTITY looking stumps ii
| the glare of the headlight.
A section Of the trestle haG disappeared. Th'
| iron, and a portion of the wood with it, nj
doubt, had sunk the rest of the wood had tioa:
ed out of view.
RothwelTs eyes followed the engineers move
ments. He could not repress slight shud
der.
81 tell you, Claude" continued his compAn
ion, ait was pretty close Craze. IL il hadn'
been for the yoang lady vino swung the light
Miss Murray would have been widow CT
| this
"The young LADY, repeated Claude in
wondering voice. "what lady, Dick;"