The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1900-04-10

HIS way UP anu WIZ uoW UodSlSu LIS
The president was tall, dark man,
with stern features but a kind heart,
and often watched him with envy as
he alighted from his private car and
entered the handsome victoria which
carried him behind his spanking team
up to his home on Lakeville heights.
Often the president did not go up to
the city, and on these occasions he
wired me on his private line, and
wired to the city for him.
One day, CHANGING to sit at the in
strument, there came a call on the
presidents wire, and, responding, l re.
ceived this message: Let me know if
the road is clear"
A minute later called up his private
wire and tapped, "The road is clear"
Gail right" came back the answer.
1t was simple enough message, but
1t set my pulses throbbing. Mechan-
.cally touched the button and repeat
ed the message, THE road is clear,"
and Immediately came back the words.
"All right"
sat at the instrument like man in
a dream, and my thoughts were with
Dick, who had sat at the same spot
five years before and had touched that
same instrument. What was there in
that reply that so fascinated me, or
was it the anniversary of poor Dicks
death that made me fanciful?
That afternoon the president came
down to the station on business, and i
looked at him closely. He must have
seen me watching him, for he shifted
his position uneasily and nervously
handled the instrument. may say
that he was an expert operator and
preferred telegraphing his messages to
writing them.
As / watched him l remembered
hearing the strange story of his rise;
how from an operator on distant road
he had suddenly become a stakeholder,
a director and finally the president Of
the road, and how his wealth and hold
ings were known far and wide.
He seemed i'll at ease that day, and
withdrew my eyes and busted myself
elsewhere. But more than once he
caught me looking at him.
Twice that day the president drove
down to the station, and slowly he
drove home again, as though he were
disturbed about something. The third
time he came it was almost dark, and /
heard him send his coachman home,
telling him that he would follow soon
on foot.
For half an hour the president bus
led himself around the station, most
unusual thing for him, and when he
finally took leave it was to walk hur-
riedly away in the direction of the
churchyard. journey which often
took myself.
Scarcely realizing what was doing,
/ pulled my cap over my eyes and
started after him. What excuse 1
would make if he turned and saw me
knew not. only understood that some
force was pulling me onward and that
same force was taking me over the
same road and in the very footprints
Of President Croydon Of the Lakeville
and Laska railway.
To my surprise, he turned the corner
as he reached the church and, plodding
his way past it, opened the gate which
led into the churchyard and slowly
wendell his way among the graves.
Noiselessly followed him. Through
the narrow paths we went, he the SUBJ
stance, ! the shadow close after him.
But, horror of horrors, he stopped!
And, my God, he bent over Dick Ram
sey's grave! Lower and lower he sank
until he was upon his knees and his
hands were spread out upon the sod.
In the uncertain light Of the rising
moon could see that he threw back
his head, that his face was drawn and
deadly white and that his lips were
moving.
I must have stepped upon q .twig, for
q sound betrayed me. Springing to his
feet, he turned and faced me, not ten
feet away. Be
With a cry Of rage he sprang. toward
me. $50 you followed mew he cried
fiercely between his teeth. "You dog
ged my steps,"
He was a powerful man, but in the
struggle which followed easily mas
tered him and had him pinioned, white
and painting. do not add another
murder" said fiercely, ''to that of
Dick Ramsey"
"How do you know?" he whispered.
II recognized your hand upon the
wire. l was the agent at the next sta
ton when you-tools Dicks place-you
remember-five years ago-todayw
"Oh, God, yesw he cried. "Shail 1
ever forget? When had to come to
this cursed place to live, l thought it
might disappear after awhile. But it
grows stronger every day. live with
1t, see 1T, hear it-that poor fellow-all
the time! Yet had to do it or be kill
ed. There was gang of us. oh, oh!
he cried, and, breaking down utterly,
the proud president of the road buried
his face in his hands.
1t. was strange scene, we two there
in the moonlight, accuser and accused,
he trembling, | reyengeful.
II tried to lead better life," he con-
tinued. land on my gains succeeded