The St. Johns herald., 1897-10-23
1 ANE CREEK was a railroad < crossing on the $. & c. c. Rail-

 division terminal at Mercer It was ln the midst of a scrubby pine forest, with a 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 military cap, and school house, all arranged ln scraggly row along the railroad track.
 4 dozen trains whirled through Kane Creek every day with only a shriek of greeting and a whipping wake of fine sand. Only two of them paid the slight est attention to the girl in blue ging- ham dress who stood in the little ob- 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 l like 1t in return. The other was the night express, westward bound from St. Paul, and running at forty miles an hour. It was a 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 powerful and ferocious beast snorting and roaring westward on a race with the sun. It was a beast, but it was well trained, and she knew the hand that trained 1t. When the train was mile away there were always two blasts on the whistle. Every one else in Kane's thought they meant simply, Wake up, look out!'-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 f1utter of some thing white, and oftentimes as the en- zine darted past the station she heard the blurred sound of a voice and caught the glimpse of grimy face and blue jean jacket. And then she went back to her place in the little station with sigh of deep contentment.
 IOl IL h1C 1 O1 SICdL JOJ SO Polly Marshall when her fathers en- zine 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 kitten curling upon the doorstep? At 17 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, clinging 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. little oil was needed In this cup or in that crevice. And Folly had learned to know an en- zine 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 girl to do.
 It 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, a shaded light throwing its 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 CT, and then 1t suddenly ceased, and try as she would Polly could get no further SOIulu uullICdIlOH NICu lAS SldllOu AcAI lO 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.
 Gan 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 fath- CTS train, and whether or not 1t left his station on time.
 "Pinckney quiet; can't get answer" was the report of the wires. "What's the trouble?'
 Polly answered as well as she could,
 Her fathers train was now due It should be whistling cheerily at the low CT 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 -I. T