The Winslow mail., 1897-12-04
T ANE CREEK was a railroad
X crossing on the S. & G. G. Rail-
rocd ohout two miles from the

sandy road crooking out from the
! trees on one side and into the trees on
the other. There were only two or
three houses, little general store with
a porch like the visor of a military cap,
and a school house, all arranged in a
scraggly row along the railroad track.
A dozen trains whirled through Kane
Creek every day with only a shrek of
greeting and whipping wake of fine
sand. Only two of them paid the slight
est attention to the girl in a blue ging-
ham dress who stood in the little OBJ
servation window. One of them was
the way freight which stopped at
Kane's every time 1t came along while
the conductor handed the girl bundle
of yellow papers and received another
like 1t In return. The ether was the
night express, westward bound from
st. Paul, and running at forty miles an
hour. 1t was splendid train-ten cars,
with the finest engine on the road, big
No. COG. AS its glaring eye flashed
around the bend in the direction Of
Mercer the girl In the gingham dress
often thought of the great train as a
powerful and ferocious beast snorting
and roaring westward on a race with
the sun. 1t was a beast, but it was
well trained, and she knew the hand
that trained 1t. When the train was a
mile away there were always two
blasts on the whistle. Every one else
In Kane's thought they meant simply,
"Wake up, look outv-for that is what
all locomotives say at every crossing
but the girl in the gingham dress heard
"Hello, Polly" and darted out on the
platform and waved her handkerchief.
AS the great train thundered nearer a
hand was thrust from the engineers
window, and, although it was usually
dark, she could see the fiutter of some
thing white, and oftentimes as the en-
gine darted past the station she heard
the blurred sound of a voice and caught
the glimpse Of a grimy face and a blue
jean jacket. And then she went back
to her place in the little station with a
sigh Of deep contentment.
For 1t was moment of great joy to
Polly Marshall when her fathers en-
gine went through. Polly was the sta
tion agent at Kane Creek-any one
could have told that woman presided
in the little depot, for was there not
always a bouquet in the window and
dainty pictures surrounding the grimy
time tables on the walls, and a kitten
curling upon the doorstep? At II Polly
had gone In as assistant to learn te-
legraphy and when Clark, the agent.
was called to Mercer the company had
left the independent girl in charge. She
and her father lived in one of the wood
en- houses a stones throw back from
the depot, and since Polly's mother died
they had been everything to each other.
Engineer Marshall was a big, silent
man, and his companions, some Of
them, thought him gruff and i'll temper
ed, but to Polly he was always tender
as a kitten. Often when she was lit
tie girl he took her down with him to
Mercer on his engine, and while she sat
on his black leather seat at the cab
window, cllnging on with both hands,
he explained to her how the big black
creature under them was started and
stopped, what this brass crank was for,
and how, when the engine squeaked
here or squealed there, a little oil was
needed in this cup or in that crevice
And Folly had learned to know an en-
gne as well as she knew the neat little
pantry In the house at home. Indeed,
she had more than once managed the
levers and the throttle, although. it was
very heavy work for a girl to do.
1t was one night late in the fall that
Polly Marshall had need of all her
knowledge Of engines. She was sitting
at her desk in the little observation
window, shaded light throwing it's
rays down on her telegraph instru-
ments and the sounder clicking sleepily
Suddenly she was startled by the sud-
den call of her number. Instantly her
fingers sought the keys, and she gave
the answer that signified that she was
all attention.
Look out for -" clicked the sound
er, and then it suddenly ceased, and try
as she would Polly could get no further
communication with the station next to
the eastward. What could the trouble
be? What was she to look out for?
Polly sprung to her feet, remembering
that the night express, of which her
father was engineer, was the next train
due. Could anything be the matter?
She ran out on the dark platform to see
that her lights were all in place and
that the switches were properly set,
so that the express would slip past the
station without an accident. Then she
went back and called up Mercer.
"Can you get Pinckney?' she asked.
Pinckney was the station which had
sent her the warning dispatch so mys-
teriously interrupted. She knew the
operator at Pinckney well-every night
he told her of the approach of her faith
er's train, and whether or not it left
his station on time.
"Pinckney quiet; can't get answer"
was the report of the wires. whats
the trouble?"
Polly answered as we'll as she could.
Her fathers train was now due. 1t
should be whistling cheerily at the low
er bend. Polly stepped out on the plat
form and peered up the track. Yes,
there was the familiar headlight-she
would have known it among a hundred.
Then came the whistle. Hello, Polly"
and Polly ran back into her office much
relieved and sat down to warn Mercer.
At that instant she heard a peculiar
cracking sound that sent her heart
nj In hnr