The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-06-19

| yet the auction must go on; IOr ii
seemed to be the only way he could
raise any money at all on his poultry
in that thinly settled district.
| Fred held up the hen persuasively
in spite of her squawking and fut-
tering, and enlarged eloquently upon
her merits. But still the bidder oil
fifteen cents remained unchallenged
81 am going to give you fellows just
one more chance" exclaimed Fred
desperately, his voice all but drowned
in the rumble of an approaching
train on the railroad which passed
the barn, not more than ten rods
away. IF you don't speak inside Of
| just one minute, you will lose your
chance on this splendid fowl. Now
am going to count sixty" And he
numbled the numerals rapidly, raising
his voice he reached the last -" fifty
eight, fifty-nine, sixtyl Now does any
one raise the bid of fifteen cents7 have
been bid fifteen cents. fifteen-fifteen
-ffteen-do l hear twentys If not
this fine, fat hen is going-going, at
fifteen cents-going- going-g"
The "gone" never passed the young
auctioneer's lips, for at that moment
when it should have been uttered
there rose the most frightful din out
side,-clanking, clashing, crashing,
shrieking of steam, and shouting of
voices. Then, suddenly, the end of
the barn farthest from the little knot
of terrified boys went down as if it
had been struck by battering-ram
and in reeled great, painting, hiss
ing ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS buried, i'm
mediately, by the falling beams and
timbers of the barn roof.
Instantly the air was full of flying
splinters, wildly squaking hens,
dense clouds of dust, steam, and
smoke. The terrified and amazed
country boys shrank back, falling
over each other in their frightened
haste. The end of the barn against
which they madly plunged remained
standing; but the roof had sagged in
from the center of the ridge-pole
down to the throbbing, Kissing loco
motive. The latter, impeded by rub
bish, and with brakes tightly set; had
come at last to standstill; and the
engineer and fireman were making
their way out through the fallen
beams and planks toward the clearer
spaceat the opposite end of the barn.
Although pale with fright and anx-
iety, both men, when they saw the
boys budding against the farther
wall, and heard the wild squaking of
the hens as they still scuttled and
flew about, could not resist the hui
morous appeal of the situation, and
burst into loud roar of laughter.
"Ho, no, ho! Quickest run into the
Grand Central on record" shouted
the engineer, above the din of escap.
ing steam.
well, by jimmy! if this amt a
queer old shell to bring up in" ex-
claimed the fireman. "Confound the
washoutl Wonder if we dragged the
coaches with us, or left 'em behind in
the ditch?"
After the first shock of fright was
over, it did not take the boys long to
comprehend the tuation. A wash
out had thrown the express from the
rails, and the engine had bumped
across the little strip of pasture and
crashed into the Stamford barn. But
what had become of the cars and the
passengers.7 That was the all-im-
portant question now. And, to solve
it, the boys with one accord plunged
out through the broken side of the
barn, following the engineer and fire.
man.
The six coaches had broken loose
from the locomotive soon after the
latter had left the rails, and were
strung along, at varying intervals,
between the track and the barn. One
lay on its eide within few yards of
the track.
The others had managed to keep
upright, though the trucks of several
were smashed, causing them to tip
forward or backward in ticklish-
looking way. Not passenger, for
tunately, had been seriously hurt;
and all were now hurrying in excited
groups toward the barn. where the
imprisoned engine was belching
forth clouds of steam.
"Hello, Tom" shouted the conduc.
tor, seeing the engineer emerge from
the barn. THANK God you're safe;
and Dick, too. Well, that was a pref
! ty narrow squeak for all of us. If
the accident hadn't happened Just
where it did, on that little strip of
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