Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1899-12-11

Detuef cnanCeS OF the new world this
side the sea, came whistling out of
the round-house that morning and
stepped hastily from before an incom-
ing locomotive, neither seeing nor
hearing another rushing up the par
allel track. His mates cried out to
him--too late! Nobody who saw it
would ever forget the look of agony
which distorted his handsome face in
that one horrible instant, when he
recognized his doom, or the perpen-
dicular leap into the air, from which
he fell back beneath the crunching
wheels.
In the excitement and consterna-
ton of the time no messenger had
been sent in advance to prepare the
loor young wife for her trouble, and
she stood in the doorway with her
baby growing in her arms when the
stout bearers paused at her gate with
their mangled burden. She uttered
a terrible cry and fell fainting-the
child's +eluer back striking the sharp
edge OF the door stone.
'What pity it was not killed out
right" 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 be-
reavement.
"Crooked Joe's rum 'un," said
one of his rough acquaintances, when
Joe had reached his twelfth year. "He
senses his troubles we'll enough, but
he don't let on to nobody"
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 imagina-
tive mind seemed some strange Great
ure with hidden life of its own.
1t was growing toward dark one No
vember afternoon. Joe never an un-
welcome yisitor-sat curled in cor
ner of Mr. Crump's office, waiting for
his mother to finish her work. He was
laboriously spelling out by the fading
light the words upon page of an il
iustrated newspaper, quite oblivious
of the ticking, like that of a very
ierky and rheumatic clock, which
sounded i'll the room.
Mr., Crump, too, had a paper before
him, but his ears were alive. Sudden
ly he sprang to his feet, repeating
aloud the message which that moment
flashed along the wire.
Engine No. 10 running wild.
Clear track"
He rushed to the door, shouting the
news.
'Not second to sparel She'll be
down in seven minutes"
The word passed like lightning In
a moment the yard was in wild com.
motion. Men flew hither and thither,
yard engines steamed wildly away, the
switches closing behind them.
The main track was barely cleared
when 110 came in sight, swaying from
side to side, her wheels threatening to
leave the track at each revolution. She
passed the depot like a meteor, her
bell changing with every leap of the
piston, the steam escaping from her
whistle with the continuous shrek or
n demon, and the occupants of the cab
wrapped from view in a cloud of
smcae.
Some hundred rods beyond the de-
pot the track took a sharp upward
grade, from which it descended again
/ to strike the bridge across narrow
but deep and rocky gorge.
Men looked after the flying locomo-
tive, aud then at each other with
/ blanched faces.
"TAey're gone! A miracle can't
save 'em," said one, yoicing the word
/ less terror of the rest "If they don't
fly the track on the up grade, they'll
60 down as soon as they strike the
trestle"
The crowd began to run along the
track, some with a vain instinct of
helpfElness, others moved by that
morbid curiosity which seeks TO be Sin
at the death"
But look Midway the long rise
the speed Of the runaway engine sud
denly .sIackeus.
"What does it mean? She never
could "A died ont in that time
shouted an old yardman.
AAAtiltlHGhl NluEGu lnelt IeeJ.
When the foremost runners reached
the place the smoking engine stood
st.ll ID her track, quiyering in every
steei-ciad nerve, her great wheels
still whi2zing ropnd and round amid
a flight OF red sparks from beneath.
"What did it! What stopped
herr"
The engineer, staggering from the
cab with the pallid face of the fireman
behind him, pointed without speak
ing to where little pale faced
crooked backed boy had sunk down,
painting with exertion, besle the
track. At his feet lay huge oil can
overturned and empty.
The crowd stared, one at another
open-mouthed. Then the truth
flashed upon them.
"He oiled the track!'
<Bully for Crooked Joep