The Goodland republic. [volume] (Goodland, Kan.) 1891-1907, 1897-08-13
THE ENGINEERS RIVAL.
ny AEFREn =. coosEr..


wasn't 50 short o. breath. That's the
very engine old John Wright used TO
drive when I was dis sso1er. Letme sec
I've been drivin' three yeaF=age, it'll
be ten year come next September. He
was a fine figure Of a man, was John. He
stood six foot one an a half IL isst6ek-
ms, an was broad in the shoulders,
too. In his greasy peaked cap, an oily
blue jacket he looked giant Hewas
queer 'un. I used to tell him ne needed
a wife to look after him. Ia! Ia! He
always made his tea wi water out O.
tn engine boiler. an when I laughed at
him, he'd slap me- on the back, an say;
What's good for the horse IS good for
the rider, Harry He was a rare old
sOrt.9
"Was he an old man2"
"Oh, no; he'd be forty-Odd, suppose,
but I was a young man Of 20, an he
seemed old, like, to me. As I've said, he
was a bachelor. an, as far as I knew,
likely to remain one. There wasn't
much Of the ladies' man about John.
But still waters run deep, they say, an
John Wright had his little secret %
about three mile QUITO town, 1 used
to notice that he whistled three times,
and always looked across a couple O.
fields, a bit farther on, as il he were
lOokin' for sOmethin'. Issked him once
or twice what it was. but he edged me
OF, an changed the subject so I didn't
press it, But I kept my eyes open,
ut was earlyWinter when I first went
on to stoke for John, an, Of course, bein'
agoods train, was generally gettin' on
for. eight o'clock at night when we
passed this Paric'lar spot, bound for
RarBhaIn, 80 mile away. It's up bank,
as daresay you know, from here to
Longbridge, eight mile up the line, an
we never got any great speed on until
we'd passed that length, especially
when we'd a heavy freight. But all 1
could me'sz out for some months was
! the dim outline Of cottage, that had
an .upstairs' window with q red blind.
The cottage lay a couple O. fields away.
What made me notice the red blind was
that, as We passed, the window was al
ways suddenly lighted up.
aye, an 50 was John Wright's face
soon as ever he saw it, Such a smileI-
an he had a kind face, had old John
an then he'd seem lost a bit, as if he
were ttEinlzin' o sOmethin' as was good
to think about.
81 couldn't make it out, for you see I
looked on John as a musty, crusty old
bachelor, for all he were such q good
sort, But the light nights let the secret
out It were no use of his keep5n' his
tongue tied then; for there, in tn little
front garden, across them two little
fields, was pink frock, an gun-bOn-
net, an little hand hutterin' bit of a
hankychiet as we Passed-every night,
as true as the clock.
II ehafIed John rarely about II, first
time I saw It, an he bushed-he did,
indeed, siri Though his face was ggimy
on the top, and coppereolor under that,
I'll swear he Blushed But be looked
pleased an proud. for, by that time,
we'd grown such Thick friends, that I'm
sure he didn't mind NE KNOWN.
"Then, bit by bit, it oil came out.
John and her father, who used to be
pointsman at Chubb Junction, half a
mile farther up the line than the cot
tage, had been lads together. John had
gone up for camp every Sunday for
many a year. He'd known Mary Math-
ers since she was born, an when She
was little lass he'd nursed her on his
knee, an told her he'd wait for her.
dare say he meant It In fun at the time,
but, as she grew up, he knew he liked to
be where she was better than anywhere
else in the world. That's how he put it,
sir. Then Tom MaJhers, her father, fell
IN, an learnt afterwards, an I guessed
even then, that John Wright made his
wages keep four instead of one. Mary's
father never worked again, He was on
his back for IS months, an then he died.
can then, you may besure, John was
a father to She fatherIess, an q husband
to the Wfdow-as far as ioOkin' after
EN- went, at any rate-only he wanted
to be a husband to the daughter, Mary.
OF course, I learnt this bit by bit, an ]
can't help film in things as come to
my ears years after, for John was never
the man to blow his own trumpet. Ha,
he! He was well content WI the steam
Whistle-especia9iy when PasEin' Rail
way cottage. Poor John!
"WeH, to cut a long story short, Mary
seemed to make no objection. Why
should ghe3 She'd never met anybody
she liked better, an a finer fellow than
John Wright never walked! Hegot her
20 promise 70 light the lamp 10 TIE room
WI the red blind, on dark nights, as he
passed % his engine, an to give him &
wave of her hand on light nights. for he
said Il was somthin' TO be goin' on ssfittlll,
Ike; he'd touch o sentiment in him
had John, aye, he had that!
"One Saturday night he says; Harry
you'd better walk DER vi me tO-mor-
row" aa
Walk Ger 81 you 'Isays; where?
"'Why, to Mrs. Msthers', to be sure
I'd like you to kaow my Mary. An then
sou can tel ma what you think Of my
sweetheart An as he said it that sweet
far-on I00k came ID ms face an I knew
he loved that lass as lew fasses are
/ loved.
"Weli, I went an I wished at tho
time I'd stayed away. II WIS love a
iirss sight vi me, an felt Should
sTer,nevsF be the came again. God for
e. mel but afteF that Sunday felt a
times 1ased John Wright. When shs
stood At tbs stiie. ct the crossing mid.
way between the cottage sa' the signal
box-a5 shs did every eyelin' from the
very day I went wi John--an. waved
her hand to hal, bsshfgl-lilEe, an he
threw her & eisTnsy Kiss, / felt I could