The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1898-12-09

SWITCHES CLOSING Dtililu lucln.
The main track was barely clear
when 40 came In sight swinging from
side TO side, her wheels threatening to
leave the track at each revolution.
She passed the depot Ike a meteor, her
bell changing with every leap Of her
piston, the steam escaping from her
whistle with the continuous shrek Of "a
demon, and the occupants Of the cab
wrapped from view in n cloud Of
smoke
Some hundred rods beyond the depot
the track took a sharp upward grade
from which IL descended again to strike
the bridge across narrow but deep
and rocky gorge.
Men looked after the flying locomo-
tive and then mt each other with
blanched faces.
"They're gone! A miracle can't save
EN-" said one volcing the wordless
terror of the rest '1f they don't fly
the track on the up grade, they'll 90
down as soon as they strike the tres
tie"
The crowd began to run along the
track, some with a vain instinct of
helpfulness, some moved by that NOR
bid curiosity which seeks TO be lin Al
the death"
But lookl Midway the long rise the
speed of the runaway engine suddenly
slackens.
"What does 1t mean? She never
could "a died out In that time" shout
ed an old yard man.
Excitement winged their feet. WheI
the foremost runners reached the place
the smoking engine stood still on hcl
track, quivering in every steel clad
nerve her great wheels still whizzing
round and round amid a flight of red
sparks from beneath.
"Who did it? Who stopped her|
The engineer, staggering from the
cab, with the pallid face Of the fireman
behind him, pointed, without speaking,
to where a little, pale-faced, crooked
backed boy had sunk down, painting
with exertion, beside the track.
At his feet a huge oil can lay over
turned and empty.
The crowd stared ut one another,
open-mouthed. Then the truth flashed
upon them.
"IIe oiled the trackw
"Hurrah for Crooked Joer'
They caught the exhausted child
flnglng him from shoulder to shoulder
striving with each other for the honor
of bearing him, and so, in irregular,
tumultuous, triumphal procession, they
brought him back to the depot and set
him down among them.
Pass that hat, pardsw cried one.
1t had been pay day, and the saved
engineer and fireman dropped in each
their months wages. Not a hand in
all the throng did not delve into a
pocket. There was the crisp rustic of
bills, the chink of gold and silver coin.
"Out with your handkerchief, joe
Your hands won't hold 1t all! Why,
young one, what-whats the matterY
for the boy, with scarlet cheeks and
burning eyes, had clinched both small
hands behind his back-the poor, twist
ed back laden with It's burden of de-
fOrmity and pain
mo, no." he cried, in a shrill, high
voice Don't pay me! Can't you see
what It's worth to me- once just once
in my life-to be a little use-like other
folksw
The superintendent had come from
his office. He Laid his hand on the boys
head. Joe" he said, I'VE couldn't
pay you if we wished. Money doesn't
pay for lives But you have saved us
great many dollars besides. Won't
you let us do something for your"
You can't! you can't! nobody canw
The child's voice was almost shrek.
1t seemed to rend the air with the pent-
up agony of years There's only one
thing in the world I want, and nobody
can give me that Nobody can make
me anything but Crooked Joer
The superintendent lifted him and
held him against his own breast.
MY boy" he said, In his firm, gentle
tones, you are right. None of us can
do that for you. But you can do it
yourself. Listen to me! Where is the
quick brain God has given you and the
brave heart? Not in that Bonded back
of yours-that has nothing to do with
them. Let us help you to n chance
only a chance TO work and to learn
and it will rest with you yourself to say
whether in twenty years from now, if
you are alive, you are Crooked Joe or
Mr.. Joseph Bryan"
Visiting in c. not long ago. @
friend said TO me: