New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1891-10-28

low from it revived his strength.
''Where are we?" he said. lis there
a telegraph office near?''
One Of the men, who had remained
for minute beside him to see what
care he might need, answered, ssThis
is Benton near by
q must get a dispatch to the opera
tor-quick. It is of the greatest i'm
pOrtance.
I'D make it short. He'll be busy
enough tonight. Here" the man
called to a boy from a neighboring
farmhouse. "My boy, you can make
yourself useful. Here's a man who
has been hurt, and wants to send a
telegram. There'll be other errands
you can do in town. The men are all
needed here"
The boy, his face white and his eyes
big with horror at the scenes around
him, came and stood by Tom, who
had written the direction with diff
Guilty, and was tearing the leaves from
his notebook. Handing them to the
boy, he said
''Tell the operator to send all he can
OF this before half-past two O'Clock
sure" Then he added, "Wait," and
wrote hurriedly-
'The south-bound express, leaving
Cresson at a quarter past seven,
struck a freight train just north OF
Benton this evening at nine O'Clock,
and was completely wrecked"
a physician approached, and stop
ped to look at Harding.
"Are you badly hurt?" he asked.
81 don't seem to be hurt externally"
said Harding, "but sharp pains keep
darting through my body, and I can't
move"
The physician, grave and compass
sionate, knelt and, with quick, skillful
touch, examined the young man. He
asked few questions, and shook his
head sadly. The eager, brave young
face, drawn with pain, interested and
touched him.
Meanwhile, Tom had made a few
rapid inquiries of the doctor about
the disaster, jotting them down to
fill in his despatch. He then said,
quietly
GLOW is it with me, doctor?"
"Can you bear the TRUTH" asked
the physician.
"Do you mean that I am going?
Yes. can bear it. How soon?"
Every soon, I fear"
doctor, my name is Harding
Thomas Harding. I am a reporter
for the DAILY Magnet [ was on my
way to the city with an account Of
the labor troubles at Cresson. It
must be in the Magnet Office before
h q 1f-roo CT 4uy1 T Id
a story OF this accident. You've CIV
en- me nearly erything but the names
OF the killed and wounded-I can't get
those. Doctor, will you see that my
paper has those names? Can trouble
you so much? can't fail my paper
now"
DR.. May knew that he had a night
OF anxious work before him, but he
could not refuse the pleading look in
the boys white face. The request,
conveyed in those words, wrung out OF
suffering, appearing so singular and
extraordinary and spoken rapidly, as
by one whose life was short and whose
work was very important, moved him
greatly.
eyes, said the physician, ~ will see
that it is DONE"
ooh, thank you, doctorr' Harding's
voice had almost ring OF triumph in
it. "You name is-''
"May"
Tom added a few lines to his des-
patch.
"Can't get list killed and wounded.
DR.. May will send it. This is my last
despatch. Tell mother. Goodbye.
HARDING.
AS the boy took the finished des-
| patch, Harding said
''Tell the operator I have left money
with DR.. May to pay tor rushing this
through. The Magnet will give
any thing for these stories.'' st..
The doctor added a. word to the boy,
and hurried him off through the dark
| ness. ,
doctor, you will find in my pocket
book money enough to meet all ex-
penses. Take it and pay what should
be paid. Never mind about me. Others
need you more. I couldn't do any
thing else just now-1 might as we'll do
the best-I could-for my paper.
Hardings voice had sunk almost to
a whisper, and he caught his breath
painfully. Then his breath faltered,
and died away altogether.
The work OF caring for the wounded
and dying went on around Tom
| body, now left alone.
| It was two o'clock in the morning
in the Office of the Magnet The roll
OF the ponderous trucks overhead
told that the first formes were being
rushed down to the stereotyping
room.
The telegraph OPERATOR waited at
his key. The telegraph editor laid
aside the last tiresome sheet of tpye-
written tissue paper, and looking
through the window between his own
and the telegraphroom, asked if moth
ing had been heard from Cresson-a
question he had asked several times
in the last hour.
The managing editor came in with a
worried look on his face.
"Nothing from Crescent he said.
'What can be the matter with Hard
| inc? If he were not coming back to-