Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1895-02-28
cAsWELL's ExPEDIENT.

. -
the convention of the Brotherhood OF
Locomotive Engineers sat in the ro-
tunda at the Palmer House in Chi
cago, telling stories.
Among them was a grizzled, oldish
man from the Old Colony, who had a
curious red scar bending around from
his forehead across his right temple
and down upon his right cheek, with
almost as regular curve as if it had
been marked there with compass.
The redness of its color indicated that
the mark had been inflicted not very
long ago.
The man who wore the scar had
taken no part in the conversation.
Presently one of the Western delegates
said to him
Come, Brother Hawkins, you ought
to have a story to tell. How did you
get that scar, now?"
The Old Colony man colored lit
tie and looked uneasy
"You fellows can tell Stories he
said, "and l can't. But | will say
this-I was never thankful for hard
blow in the face but once, and that
was when got this scar.
Then he subsided into silence, APP
parently supposing that there was
nothing more to say. Of course the
engineers about him raised loud de-
mand for the rest of the story, which
seemed to surprise the Old Colony
man. Under this pressure he went
on, a little awkwardly.
"I hain't had the scar more N
about year." he said. 81 was run
ming the three-thirty passenger out Of
Boston on the Cape Cod Division, as
I am now when I'm at home. We had
passed Wareham one clustering, blow
ing, rainy November afternoon; it was
half-past five by that time, and as the
sky was thick with clouds, it was just
as dark as pitch.
Between Wareham and Buzzard's
Bay there's a stretch of woody, scrub
by country where the track is pretty
toIerably crooked, crossing and dodg-
ing the saltwater inlets. You can't
see far ahead of yen at any time.
"But if I'm going to tell you this
story anywhere near right, Nct
to get you out of my CAB and Ont
Flying Dude; and that's great priv
ilege, l can tell you, for they say it
takes patent of nobility to make you,
eligible to ride on that fast express.
It's a swell affair, that runs down on
the east shore of Buzzard's Bay.
"By the hour l mentioned the Dude
should have been at Woods Holl, her
run made; but she had stopped at
Middleboro on account of a hot box,
and was way behind time She had
gone on, and was flying along through
the woods between Wareham and On
set, not more than fifteen minutes
ahead of our time, when that same
box began to smoke again, hotter than
fire.
"There was nothing for them to do
but haul up and cool her off. But
they knew that we were coming right
behind. The Dude had just made a
curve where the track follows the
bend of the bay, and it was bad
place. | shouldn't have seen the
Dudes rear lights around that curve
until we were right on her. OF course
they sent man back with lantern
to signal us. The man they took for
the duty was a young brakeman, not
over nineteen, by the name of Jimmy
Caswell. He hadn't been working for
the road more than two years, but he
came o: very good family of folks
down to Falmouth, and was mighty
bright, geptlemanly sort of young
ster-just the kind that the swells who
travel down to the bay like to have on
the Flying Dude.
He'd been put forward good deal
for a fellow of nineteen, and it was
somewhat the result of favor, dare
say, that he was on that train; but
they all had great deal of confidence
in him. I'll leave it to you to say
whether the confidence was justified.
"Well, Jimmy set out in the dark
and rain and wind with his red Ian
tern back along the track. He had
to go quite piece, for there's a sec
ond curve along back little ways on
that crooked line there, and after that
long, clear stretch, and he wanted
to get around the second curve and
warn us there