Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1888-05-31

"How far from here to yellow Dog"
"Forty-six miles"
] and No SIS running timer"
Zone hOur and twenty two minutes"
Leslie glanced at his watch. 1t was ex
actly IA minutes since No. pulled out
OF Traokyille.
"Then in a triAe less than one hour
and eightminutes she should be crossing
the Yellow Dog trestleg'
"Yts, sir"
Leslie turned to his old friend, King
Tom is there an engine fred up?'
/ Yes, there's yard engine standing
ready for as; We don't need il much, hu:
| keep il with steam up in CT SO of an em
| Urgency"
Come along, then, and help me get it
ont I'm going after No. g."
The two men ran 20 tho roundhouse
But there Tom King had something to
say.
ROB your life is too valuable to risk
just now. There Is large tough cro~d
in possession of the west yard Watching
for any thing of this kind. You cannot
run an engine through fast, on account
of switches, SO they will probably try
to board the engine, and will shoot any
how. You remember that night at Big
Horn Crossing, SO do I. Good bye,
Rob"
Tom King piled in wood and coal, and
slowly guided the old enging through
the intricate tracks of the yard When
he got her near the western limits OF the
yard he saw the crowd OF roughs which
he had anticipated. But he paid no at
tenti0n TO their shouts. He let ont a.
much steam as he dare, grabbed stick
of cord word in one haRd and his pistol
in the other, and waited for the mob.
They tried to climb on TO the enfine, but
King knocked one down with the stick of
wood and winged another with his pistol
The engine was already gong ten miles
an hour, much faster then the crowd
supposed, and Tom King was already
past them. But he was not out OF reach
of their reyOlvsrs, and twenty bullets
came whistling into the rab. Tom felt
that he was shot in several places, but he
was alive, and that, for the time being,
was all he cared about. He gave the
throttle Il jerk, and the cid engine went
bounding forward. With blood stream
ing off his face and down his left arm
with a checking sensation in his lungs,
aud singing pain in one leg-he piled
in the wood and coal until the locomotive
fairly danced over the track n was a
fearful ride at a terrible speed-a ride TO
which that drunken ride on No 404 was
not a circumstance. The miles flew by
one by one. Tom looked at his watch.
In twenty minutes No. would be at the
| trestle. He ought TO be up with her very
| soon. All, thank God, there she Is about
two miles ahead! The poor fellow felt
his strength giving out rs the blood shll
! flowed, and he prayed as he never prayed
before that that he might be able to hold
on a few minutes longer. The sparks
flew out of the smokestack, and tho black
smoke pulled out in thick volume Tom
opened the whistle, and hoarse, eerie,
soreech was the result but he could not
attract the attention of the traiumeu on
No. 8. Closer and closer and closer King
brought his old engine up 20 the train.
There were not hundred yards between
them when on curve, the engineer OF
No. caught sight of the pursuing en-
gine, heard the short, iecky screams OF
the whistle and preceived Tom King way
ing a red flag
No. was brought to a standstill, and a
hundred or more hJman beings wero
saved from a horrible death.
But that was Tom Kings last run. As
the boys gathered round him in the old
engine cab he just managed to gasp
'Yellop- Dog -treste," and sank ex-
hausted from the loss of blood,
Very tenderly they carried him TO the
baggage car ana laid him on soft robes,
but the brave fellow only lived a few
moments. He was badly ridded with
pistol bullets.
They took him back that night to
Trackville, and as Robert Leslie looked
upon the face of his old friend, he
wildly recalled Tom Kings own words,
"Rob, will be a mau-'till / die