The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-03-10
An Engineers story.

"Second 30 at IL 40. Take your
storm coat.
"All right" replied, and the next
moment heard the call boy run down
the steps. / also heard the rain beat
ing against the windows, and began to
realize a wet trip was ahead of me, but
| had no time to reflect as | had only
twenty-five minutes to report at the
roundhOuse. So, dressing hurriedly, l
walked out into fierce March gale of
wind and rain.
For two or three days there had
been thaw and the ice had begun TO
loosen up and float down French Creek
and now that the rain had set in it
was very evident there would be Sc
has no right to think of danger or
trouble.
When 1 arrived at the roundhouse l
learned that high water had begun to
make trouble on the road, and 1 was
warned to be on my guard, and not to
go in swimming with my engine. We
rolled out of Meadville thirty minutes
late, and with heavy train made slow
progress up Horntern Hill, and nearly
an hour had been used up when we
pulled into the switch at Saegertown for
No. l.
The wind now seemed to blow per-
feet gale, while the rain fairly poured
down. l was under the engine tight
ening up some bolts and keys. Once l
thought heard voice, but, looking
around, could see no one, and came
to the conclusion that it was merely
Imagination. Soon / heard the noise
again and this time, turning sharply
around, espied pair of shoes standing
close to the rail. On raising my eyes
l discovered they belonged to girl
twelve years of age. Her dress came
just below her knee, displaying pair
of cotton stockings. Standing there in
the rain without any protection, she so
startled me that / got from under my
engine at once, and in my rough man
ner asked her what she wanted.
"Please don't blame me-" she replied,
"my brother is very sick, and ma says
he can't live, and want to go and tell
Aunt Jennie to come at once"
"But why don't you telegraph for
her. Standing here in the rain won't
save your brother" 81 know it, but
you see Aunt Jennie don't live near
any telegraph office, and I thought
you would let me ride on your train. l
have no money, but if you will let me
ride in the caboose am sure God will
pay you some day."
"Then why don't you 60 back to the
caboose and ask the conductor to let
you rider"
ooh, / am afraid to go back there
in the dark. Can't you stop the ca
boose here when you go, 80 / can get
on9" I was about 10 reply when
heard No. l whistle, so acting on the
impulse of the moment, l took her in
my arms and climbed into the cab.
Placing her on the freman's seat, and
telling her to remain perfectly quiet. 1
whistled off brakes just as No. l pass
ed, and pulled out on to the main
track.
When the final signal had been given
turned my attention to my little pas
senger, who sat 80 still with mouth
and eyes wide open at her new sur
roundings. / noticed the fireman did
not like the idea of carrying a passen-
ger. In fact, had heard him say but
few days before that to carry q
woman or a child in the engine on q
stormy night meant sure destruction
to the engine and death to the engi.
neer and fireman. So that night he
stood looking at the innocent girl with
horror depicted on his countenance.
Never mind her, Jack" l said
She's only little waif, and we will
put her on the caboose at Union CITY
But if you are not willing to have hel
over there she can sit beside me-" Ant
with that l put my arms around he
and placed her on my seat.
You see, all this was done 80 quick,
that had no time to think of the con
sequences. Who can look into the flu
ture and tell what an hour may brip,
forth? AS she chung closely to my side
hanging on to my left arm with tena
cious grip, she looked across the cal
into the sullen face of the fireman;
face that BODIED evil. I had been g.
strangely occupied that I had no