The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1889-11-21
AT HOME WITH DYNAMITE.



A alasting Superintendent Throws Bag
Full Ok II Fifteen Feet.
When men Nes en gagged in blast
ing away the Of wreckage at
the stone bridge III Johnstown. Pa.
after the destructive flood there last
spring. people Who had the time to
watch the WORK bad an opportunity
to see how mut eonfidence man
can have in dynamite. Those who
took no part in the work had a whole
some respect for the explosive and
were content to watch the blasting
operation from safe distance. In
deed, the workmen themselves lost no
time in scurring away and seeking
places of shelter when blast was to
be set off. But there was one man
who never hurried, who never seemed
to be alarmed, and who never took the
trouble to get far from the blast
He was the superintendent of sne
blasting force and was an odd little
old man, with gray hair, bent shoul-
ders and hobbling gait He himself
always took the charge, fastened it to
the end of long pole, and sank it at
the point whore he wished the blast to
be discharged. He would pull it up
again, examine it carefully and then
replace it with ala airof great fondness
for his work. This done he connected
the Niroz ralnBing 10 the battery, and,
after final glance all around to see
that everything was right, hobbled
away As he raised his hand as q sig
nal to the man at the battery, the last
one of his assistants could be seen
disappearing in o mad scramble to get
to secure territory. But hardly did
the great mass of shattered logs, twist
ed iron and muddy water come rush
ing down from the height to which it
was hurled by the terrific force of the
dynamite, when the little man hob
bled back again to see the result of the
blast
Long after the operation of blasting
had become common and monotonous,
people stopped to watch the superin-
tendent's deliberation, calmness and
apparent indifference to danger. One
of his assistants found time one noon
to tell group of interested spectators
a story illustrating the gray haired
mans faith in his dangerous and de-
structivc weapon.
Tie old man. and l." said he,
were working down mountain one
day. trying to get to point where we
were to do some blasting for q road.
He was carrying the charge of dyna-
mite, while the battery was strapped
to my back. 1t was hard work to get
along. The descent was steep and
very rugged My business is with
electricity, not dynamite, and | felt
nervous enough for fear the old man
would drop that bag and blow us to
pieces. You can know how | felt
when | tell you that kept as far away
from him as possible, although l knew
perfectly well that, if that dynamite
did go off, / might just as well be ten
feet as 100 feet away from him, for all
the good it would do me.
''The further we went the harder we
worked aud the old man got more
disgustod at every foot we gained.
After struggling and slipping along
for about an hour we came to a steep
drop of about fifteen feet and that
stopped US for while But we finally
found q place down which we thought
we could slide. He was to go first,
and was to let down my battery to
him by the straps. But he said he
could get his bag down easier than
that, and before had time to yell he
had dropped it directly at our feet be-
low. II ever my heart stopped beat
ing it was when / saw him throw that
wicked black bag. could not catch
my breath, and I stood there, my
limbs rigid with terror, waiting to be
torn to pieces, long after the dynamite
had fallen. The old man was toe
surly to laugh at me. He slid down
after his bag, growing out his disgust
and when l recovered my senses fol
lowed him. But that experience die
not give me q whit more confidence il
| dynamite | am as afraid of it al
ever. New York Tribune.