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

A GREAT railroad depot may not
~ be the best school for a boy, yet
L Il poor little Joe Bryan had scarce
ly known any other. He could not re-
member when the long waiting rooms
with their tiled floors and dreary rows
of stationary settees, and crowds of
hurrying people, were not quite as ia
miliar to him and more homelike than
his mothers small, bare house, which
he knew as little more than a place for
eating and sleeping
He had been only six months old
when a dreadful accident happened
which, at one fell stroke, made him
fatherless and transformed him from Il
strong, well-developed infant to a PHI
full creature, which even death refused
to take.
"What a pity that 1t was not killed
Outrlghtw said everybody but the
mother. She herself always insisted
that only her constant watching over
the little pickering life kept her from
going mad in the first dreadful months
OF her bereavement.
The officers Of the railway company
were kind to poor Mary Bryan. They
paid the expenses Of the burial, and,
after little Joe had slowly mendcd, en-
ployed her about the depot to scrub
floors and keep the glass and woodwork
bright and neat.
When Joe was seven years old his
mother sent him to school. He went
patiently day after day, making no
plant, but she awOke suddenly one
night to find him sobbing on the pillow
beside her. Only by dnt of long coax
ing was she able to find out the cause
of his grief. Some Of the rougher boys
more thoughtless than cruel, let us
hope-had called him 'humpy," and
asked If he carried a bag of meal ON
his back.
Mary famed with the fierce anger of
motherhood. you shan't go another
day" she declared "The ruhians! l
won't have my darling put upon by the
likes of them"
SO Joe's schooling had come to an
untimely end. Yet, meager as was his
stock of book learning, the develop
ment Of his mind far outstripped the
growth of his stunted and defOrmed
body. Everybody liked the patient lit
tie fellow Juggling manfuly at his
mothers heavy water buckets and run
ming willingly at every call of the sta
ton men. At twelve years old he had
picked up no small amount of informa-
ton, especially on railroad topics. He
knew every locomotive on the road,
understood the intricacies Of sidetracks
and switches, and could tell the precise
moment when any particular train
might be expected, with the accuracy
OF a time table.
Yet the very quIckness and ardor Of
his nature deepened his sense of his In
trinity. How wistfully his eyes fol
lowed boys of his own age-stralght,
handsome, happy-who sprang lightly
up and down the steps of the coaches
or threaded their way along the crowd
ed platforms. For one day Of such per
| feet untrammeled life he would have
bartered all the possible years before
him. Yet he never put his yearnlng
| into words-eyen to his mother.
Mr.. Crump, the telegraph operator,
was JOe's constant friend. 1t was he
who, at odd moments had taught the
boy to read, and had initiated him INTO
some OF the mysteries of the clicking
instrument, which to Joe's imaginative
mind seemed some strange creature
with hidden life Of its own.
1t was growing towards dark on one
November afternoon. Joe-never an
unwelcome vlsltor-sat curled up In a
corner of Mr.. Crumps Office, waiting
for his mother to finish her work. He
was spelling out, by the fading light.
the words upon page Of an illustrated
newspaper quite obllvious of the tick
Ing, Ike that OF a very jerky ana rheu-
matte clock, which sounded In the
room.
Mr.. Crump, too, had a paper before
him, but his ears were alive. Suddenly
he sprang to his feet, repeating aloud
the message which at that moment
flashed across the wire.
Engine No. 10 running wild. Clear
the track"
He rushed to the door shouting the
news.
mot a second to sparel She'll be
down In seven minutesw
The words passed like lightning. In
moment the yard was In wild com
: J motion. Men dew hither and thither