The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1891-10-31
LITTLE JOE BRYAN.

the better chances OF the new world
this side the sea, came whistling out
OF the round-house that morning and
stepped hastily from before an incom-
ing locomotive. neither seeing nor
hearing another rushing up the parallel
track His mates cried out to him
too late! Nobody who saw it would
ever forget the look OF agony which
distorted his handsome face in that
one horrible instant when he recog-
nized his doom. or the perpendicular
leap into the air. from which he fell
back beneath the crunching wheels.
In the excitement and CONSERVATION
OF the timo no messenger had been
sent In advance to prepare the poor
young wife for her trouble and she
stood in the doorway with her baby
Growing In her arms when the stout
bearers paused ut her gate with their
mangled burden. She uttered ter
rible cry and fell fainting-the childs
tender back striking the sharp edge Of
the door stone.
What a pity it was not killed out
right" said everybody but the mother.
She herself always insisted that only
her constant watching over the little.
aickering life kept her from going
mad In the first dreadful months of her
bereavement
Crooked Joe's a rum 'un," said one
OF his rough acquaintances when Joe
had reached his twelfth year. He
senses his troubles well enough, bus he
don't let on to nobody"
Mr. Crump. the telegraph operator.
was Joe's constant friend. 1t was he
who at odd moments had taught tho
boy to read. and had initiated him into
some OF the mysteries OF the clicking
instrument which 10 Joe's imaginative
mind seemed some strange creature
with a hidden life of its own.
1t was growing toward dark one No
vember afternoon. Joe--never an I'M
welcome visitor-sat curled in corner
Of Mr.. Crump's Office, waiting for his
mother TO finish her work. He was
laboriously spelling out by the fading
light the words upon a page OF an
illustrated newspaper, quite oblivious
of the ticking, like that OF very
jerky and rheumatic clock, which
sounded in tho room.
Mr.. Crump. too, had paper before
him, but his ears were alive. Sudden
| ly he sprang to his, feet, repeating
| aloud the message which that moment
dashed along the wire.
Engine No. ITO running wild. Clear
track"
He rushed to the door, shouting the
news
Not a second to spare! She'll be
down in seven minutes!'
The word passed like lightning In
a moment the yard was in wild COM
motion. Men few hither and thither.
yard engines steamed wildly away, the
switches closing behind them.
The main track was barely cleared
when ITO came in sight swaying from
side to side, her wheels threatening to
leave the track mt each revolution.
She passed the depot like meteor.
her bell changing with every leap OF
the piston, the steam escaping from
her whistle with the continuous shrek
OF a demon. and the occupants OF the
cab wrapped from view in cloud Of
smoke. W 20 -
Some hundred rods beyond the de-
pot the track took sharp upward
grade. from which IL descended again
to strike the bridge across q narrow
but deep and rocky gorge
Men looked after the flying locomo-
tive, and then at each other with
blanched faces.
They're gone! A miracle can't save
'em. said one, voicing the wordless
terror OF the rest. IF they don't fly
the track on the up grade. they'll go
down as soon as they strike the trestle."
The crowd began to run along the
track, some with vain instinct OF
helpfulness, others moved by that NOR
bid curiosity which seeks to be lin at
the death"
But look! Midway the long rise,
the speed OF the runaway engine sud-
denJy slackens.
What does it meanp She never
could "a died out In that timo! shouted
an old yard man. -
Excitement winged their feet When
the foremost runners reached the place
the smoking engine stood still in her
track, quivering In every steel-clad
nerve her great wheels still whizzing
round and round amid a fight OF red
sparks from beneath.
What did itp What stopped herp"
The engineer, staggering from the
cab with the pallid face Of the fireman
behind him. pointed without speaking
to where o little pale-faced crooked
backed boy had sunk down, painting
with exertion, beside the track. At
his feet huge oil can lay overturned
and empty.
The crowd stared, one at another,
pen-mouthed. Then tho truth flashed
upon them.
HE oiled the trackl'
"Bully for. crooked Joer'
Three cbeersl Hurra! hurra!
hurral"
They caught up the exhausted child
finging him from burly shoulder to
shoulder. striving with each other for
the honor OF bearing him. and so, in
irregular, tumultuous, triumphal pro-
cossion they brought him back 10 the