Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1898-11-09
CROOKED JOE

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 fa-
miliar TO him and more homeltke than
his mothers small, bare house, which
he knew as little more than place for
eating and sleeping.
He had been only six months olo
when a dreadful accident happened
which, at one fell stroke, made him
fatherless and transformed him from 4
strong, well-developed infant to a pitt
full creature, which even death refused
to take.
What a pity that 1t was not killed
outrightr' said everybody but the
mother She herself always insisted
that only her constant watching over
the little flickering 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 mended. 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 dint 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 IL he carried bag of meal on
his back.
Mary famed with the fierce anger of
motherhood. You shan't go another
day" she declared. The ruffians. 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, tugging manfully 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 q time table.
Yet the very quickness and ardor of
his nature deepened his sense of his in
frmity. How wistfully his eyes fol
lowed boys of his own age-straight,
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 yearning
into words-even to his mother.
Mr. Crump, the telegraph operator,
was Joes 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 a hidden life of its own
It was growing towards dark on one
November afternoon. JOe-never an
unwelcome visitor-sat curled up In a
corner of Mr.. Crump's Office, waiting
for his mother to finish her work. He
was spelling out, by the fading light,
the words upon a page Of an Illustrated
newspaper, quite oblivious Of the tick.
ing, like that Of a very jerky and 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 alond
the message which at that moment
flashed across the wire.
Engine No. 40 running wild. Clear
the track"
He rushed to the door shouting the
news.
Not a second to spare! She'll b'
down IN seven minutes"
The words passed like lightning. Ii
a moment the yard was in a wild com
motion. Men flew hither and thither
yard engines steamed wildly away. the
switches closing behind them.
The main track was barely cleal
when 10 came in sight swinging from
side to side, her wheels threatening tc
leave the track at each revolution
She passed the depot like a meteor, hel
bell changing with every leap Of hel
piston, the steam escaping from hei
whistle with the continuous shrek of a
demon, and the occupants of the cal
wrapped from view in q cloud O.
smoke
Some hundred rods beyond the depo
the track took a sharp upward grade
from which 1t descended again to strik,
the bridge across a narrow but deeI
and rocky gorge.
Men looked after the flying locomo
tive and then at each other witt
launched faces.
They're gone! A miracle can't saw
en-" said one, voicing the wordles
terror Of the rest 'Tf they don't fll
the track on the up grade, they'll g
down as soon as they strike the tres
lie"
The crowd began to run along tn
rack, some with a vain instinct o
helpfufaess, some moved by that NOR
lid curiosity which seeks to be in a
tne deatAs