The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1897-06-24

inc people, DelnS elJQef drunk or urea,
would sleep soundly when once asleep,
and the gang voted that Doc was a
great thinker.
The time arrived, the store was en-
tered and when they were all in Doc
ducled down behind the counter and
reached the rear end of the store. Now
a big bull's-eye was turned upon the
gang, who arose from their work to look
down the dark barrels of half dozen
shotguns. One of the gang, seeing Doc
with the sheriff's party, made a play for
| his pistol, but the sheriff showed his
| shotgun yet nearer the robbers face
and said, softly: "Be quiet" and he was
| calm.
The next day the father of one of the
gang, who was himself a hard man,
made an attempt to kill the detective,
and, having done his work, Doc de-
parted.
Young Pippin's success in this now
| celebrated case won for him the full
confidence of the agency, and before
| he had reached Chicago other important
work was mapped out for him, but to
the surprise of the agency he refused to
accept another assignment.
Il could not bear" he said to me, the
! thought of living a whole life that was
a lie-to appear always to be that which
l was MOTTO mix and mingle constant
ly with the wicked of this world, in
which there should be so much happi-
| ness.
Returning to the west again, Pippin
entered the service of Uncle Sam as q
postal clerk.
Finding a letter in the mail marked
to me, he wrote on the back of the en-
velope: "Hello-Doc-R NJ s." and
| knew then that he was in the railway
mail service.
How is it." asked one day, that
you are assistant superintendent of the
mail service in the west, when you are
under 30, and new, comparatively new,
at the business?"
Hard luck" said Doc, smiling sadly,
coughing, and humping his chest.
Then it was that he began to tell me
some of his experiences in the postal
car, but he did not tell all He was as
modest as he was honest, and would
not tell to me, his friend, the real tales
of heroism in which he was himself the
hero. He told enough, however, to in
terest me and cause me to find out more
from a mutual friend and to verify the
information by some of the records and
correspondence which | was afterward
permitted to see. l found that his
loyalty, bravery and devotion to duty
had been warmly commended in auto
graph letters from the highest officials
in the mail service.
1t was, indeed, hard luck that brought
him promotion and an easy place, which
he could not have gained save through
the kindness of higher officials. He had
been in any number of wrecks, for
many of the western roads were new a t
that time, and the railroadng was not
safe as it is now Once there was 4
head-end collision, in which the wreck
took fire. Doe was dreadfully bruised,
hut he had all his limbs, and as the
flames crept closer and closer to his car
he busted himself carrying the mail
matter 10 a place of safety. When his
work had been completed and the
flames lit up the canyon they showed
Doc lying upon his mail bags, apparent
ly dead. The trainmen found him and
soon restored him to consciousness, for
he had only tainted from overwork and
the pain of his many wounds.
1t was nearly a year before he was
able TO take his run again, and this tine
his route lay over the Santa Fe system.
One night, when the train came roar
ing down the canyon, the engine
JC.cped the track, the mail car went TO
pieces against the locomotive, the
coaches piled upon the pieces, and the
wreck began to burn.
When the trainmen and passengers
came forward to look for 1.-THE fellows
ur ahead" they saw large and small
envelopes sailing out of the burning
debris, and they knew at once that the
mail agent must be fast in the wreck.
The whistle valve had been forced open.
and now the wild, ceaseless cry of the
wounded engine drowned all other
sounds, and made it impossible for the
men to hear the cries of the imprisoned
postal clerk. All this he knew, and
while the hungry flames were eating
their way to where he lay he pulled the
register bag to him, and began to shy
the valuable mail into the sage brush.
When the steam was exhausted and
the cry Of the engine had hushed there
came no sound from the enginemen, for
their voices We're hushed in death.
Above the sound of the cracking flames
they could hear Doc calling to them
from his place below the wreck, and the
train crew worked desperately right
III the very face of the fire to rescue the
unfortunate.
Gradually the voice of the prisoner
grew fainter and fainter, and before
the rescuers reached him it hushed en-
tIrely.
At last, just as they were about TO
give him up, as he was now apparently
dead, they succeeded in dragging Doc
from the wreck, and to the Joy of all he
soon revived. He was yet alive, but had
breathed so much of the flames that his
left lung was almost ruined, and he was
never able to resume his place on the
road.
II WAS This ,rnfortunota ,,ro,l- -, 81