Passaic City record., 1891-09-26

i stIaugcr-eyeS, SOuc pitAiut,soniO SuAAouS,
others, alas expressive only of annoy
ances or disgust, rankled like so many
arrows in his heart; not one missed its
mark. How wistfully his eyes followed
boys of his own age-straight, hand.
some, happy-who sprang lightly up and
down the steps of the coaches, or
threaded their way along the crowded
platforms. For one day of such perfect,
untrammelled life he would have bar
tered all the possible years before him.
Yet he never put his yearning into
words, even to his mother.
ssCrooked Joe's rum 'un," said one
of his rough acquaintance. ''He senses
his trouble well enough, but 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 the
boy to read, and had initiated him into
some of the mysteries of the clicking in
strument which to 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 un-
welcome visitor-sat curled in corner
of Mr.. Crump's Office, waiting for his
mother to finish her work. He was Ia
boriously spelling out, by the fading
light, the words upon page of an illus
trated newspaper, quite oblivious of the
ticking, like that of very jerky and
rheumatic clock, which sounded in the
room.
Mr.. Crump, too, had paper before
him, but his ears were alive. Suddenly
he sprang to his feet, repeating aloud the
message which that moment flashed
along the wire.
/" Engine No. 110 running wild.
Clear track
He rushed to the door, shouting the
news.
"Not second to spare! She'll be
down in seven minutes2"
The words passed like lightning. In
a moment the yard was in wild COM
motion. Men flew 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 at 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 demon, and
the occupants of the cab wrapped from
view in cloud of smoke.
Some hundred rods beyond the depot
the track took a sharp upward grade,
from which it descended again to strike
the bridge across narrow but deep and
rocky gorge.
Men looked after the flying locomo-
tive, and then at each other with
blanched faces.
They're gonel A miracle can't save
'em," said one, voicing the wordless ter
ror of the rest. "If they don't fly the
track on the upgrade they'll go down as
soon as they strike the trestle."
The crowd began to run along the
track, some with vain instinct of help
fulness, some moved by that morbid
curiosity which seeks to be Sin at she
death"
But look! Midway the long rise the
speed of the runaway engine suddenly
slackens.
"What does it mean2 She never
could a. died out in that time!" shouted
an old yardman.
Excitement winged their feet. When
the foremost runners reached the place
the smoking engine stood still on her
track, quivering in every steel clad
nerve, her great wheels still whizzing
round and round amid flight of red
sparks from beneath.
"What did ita What stopped herr"
The engineer, staggering from the cab
with the pallid face of the fireman behind
him, pointed, without speaking, to where
a 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. open
mouthed. Then the truth flashed upon
them.
'sHe oiled the track!"
"Bully for Crooked joel"
They caught up the exhausted child,
6inging him from shoulder to shoulder,
striving with each other for the honor
OF bearing him, and so, in irregular,
tumultuous, triumphal procession they
brought him back to the depot and set
him down among them.
"Pass the hat, pards!" cried one.
1t had been payday, and the saved
engineer and fireman dropped in each
their months wages. Not hand in all
the throng that did not delve into
pocket. There was the crisp rustic of
bills, the chink of gold and silver coin.
"Out with your handkerchief, Joel
your hands won't hold it all Why,
young one-Whata-what's the mat
ter?"
For the boy with scarlet cheeks and
burning eyes, had clenched both small
hands behind his back-the poor twisted
back laden with its burden of deformity
and pain.