The herald., 1894-03-22

know what they're after. There's near
ly half million in gold on board. I'll
go forward and parley with them as long
as possible, so as to give you time.
imagine that il they break open the safe
they'll be- in big hurry to get away and
will leave the passengers alone. Still
don't know, SO warn everybody"
There Is no question but the manager
was brave man. He went briskly for
ward, as If nothing particular was wrong
and it was all little mistake that could
be explained away in a few words. AS
he walked the length of the train, he
made up his mind to sacrifice the $400,-
COO If by SO doing he could prevent
bloodshed and further robbery.
whats the row here" he cried cheer
fully as he approached the gloomy group
of mountaineers.
"Who are you, anyhow" asked the
man who was covering" the express
messenger.
"Who am l? I'm the manager of this
railroad, What do you fellows mean by
stopping one of my trains?"
The man lowered his rife and looked
at the manager.
"Whats the matter with your" added
Tompkins.
"The matters just this, Mr.. Manager.
You run the goldarndest railroad in all
creation. That's what's the matter. and
we amt a-goin to stand it no longer.
don't mind your trainmen THROWN coal
at my dog; don't mind EN- sassin my
wife an maxim fun of my clothes, but
when it comes to monkeyin with my
whisky I'm dodgasted if I'm a-goin to
stand it."
The other mountaineers nodded their
approval of these sentiments.
"Monkeying with your whisky? What
do you mean?" cried the bewildered man
ager.
II mean just what say. They can
throw coal at my dog; they can sass
N.Y.
Eyes, yes; but 1 don't understand
about the whisky. What have my men
to do with your whislKyT
why, don't you know, and you man
ager of the road? Well, moonshine whis-
ky's all right enough ordinary days, but
we allus has good old Kentucky for
Christmas. Day before yesterday gave
your man in this here kyar a jug and 50
to bring me some prime Kentucky from
town fur Christmas. Yesterday, bang
through goes your train, jug and whisky
and all and never stops. Now, we amt
a-goin to stand that from no road that
ever footed a whistle to scare the steers.
/ said I'd bet my boots next train 'ud
stop, and she has. don't allow no man
to monkey with my likker. He kin sass
my wife and chuck coal"-
"See here" said the manager to the ex-
pressman. did you take his $2?"
"'Twan't me-" said the messenger.
"Must have been Bill Simmons, on No.
o, and she must have gone through with
out stopping yesterday"
"Then all you want is your whisky"
asked the manager, with sigh of relief.
Fairs fair, boss. 'Tain't Christian
like to drink moonshine this time of the
year. Besides, he's got my 50 and the
Jug"
"That's all right" cried the manager.
"Have we got jug on the train?'
"Heres one," said the mountaineer,
taking a jug from behind log They
had been refreshing themselves while
waiting for the train.
The manager grasped it by the handle,
turned it upside down and let the re-
mains of the "moonshine" gurgle out, to
the horror of the mountaineers. Then he
started through the train, shouting:
Here, you loen with TASKS, l want half
your stock. Pour it in here and be glad
you get off SO cheaply.'
Every man who had bottle produced
it, and before Tompkins had gone through
two cars the jug was brim full. Hewent
back to the leader, who now allowed the
engineer and expressman to hold down
their hands.
"Taste that" said Tompkins.
The mountaineer smacked his lips after
sampling the content That's a good
blend" he said, with solemn reverence.
blend? You bet it's blend. I've
blended it myself. There's sample of
every known brand in the states there.
Now, tomorrow, give you my word
that No. 8 stops and unships your jug,
or there'll be row. Is that all right?'
Its all right, boss" said the leader,
who had given the word. Thereupon
his lank company had flung the old ties
and tree trunks clear of the track.
you're white man, if you are the
manager of this road. Aud your men
can make fun of my clothes an sass my
wife all the've a-mind to an heave the
company's coal at my dog as long as
they know you amt a-goin to let 'em
monkey with my whisky. Robert Barr
in McClure's Magazine.