Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1901-09-20
The Daily Short Story !
The Lineman's Yarn.
By William 3. Fields, sr.

ed. You look as If some one had left
you a pile"
you've hit it off right. Ned; pile
Of pleasure. 1 haven't done many
things in my life, guess, for other
folks benefit, but / wouldn't give this
one experience for a sound leg in place
Of the shriveled peg"
He extended n shrunken, shortened
limb and held the misshapen foot closer
to the stove. The lineman was sadly
crippled, but there was no better pole
climber nor more reliable man on the
division.
Tell us all about it. Billy"
"An right. you shall have the yarn,
such as it is. Last October, when you
were in the hospital, Ned, and l was
working alone in the delta, l was pull
ing my tricycle. up heavy grade. The
line was down five miles below DeZell,
and rush orders came to look after 1t.
Ny machine worked hard, and 1 made
slow time up hill. III been hearing the
cry of hounds for awhile and was on
the lookout to see deer cross the
track. A long stretch of canebrake ran
alongside, and L could tell the hounds
were coming through it. Just before 1
reached the top of the grade, and when
the dogs couldn't have been more than
half n mile away, there was crash in
the cane and out burst n strapping
young giant of n niger with the
stripes-that is, as many stripes rs the
briers had left, for he was about fraz-
zled out.
''He had lost his hat. He asked no
leave but was ON my machine before l
could say yes or no.
"'Let me pull her for you, cap was
all he said as he showed me aside and
took hold of the lever. Twas no will
L or won't L. He could have pitched
me into the ditch easier than l can
strap on the climbers. And the way
the old machine roared along under the
powerful swing of that nigger's arms
left me nothing TO do but to hold the
hair on my head and sit on my cap.
About a mile down l looked back
and saw the hounds circling round and
round on the track. They'd lost the
trail for the chap that made it was
aboard my machine. and the way he
swung the lever pretty near made the
old three wheeler jump clear of the
rails at every stroke.
and we passed Dezell a-whizziRg. No
one could have seen how we We're
dressed or told our color. We split the
wind too fast for clear sight. There
were no loafers about the depot, as
twas not train time.
when we slowed up n bit. I told
him we were pretty near where had
TO stop and he must let me take hold.
me square in the face. Though as black
as Il pot. he wasn't Il bit what you'd
call a bad looking niger.
cap he said. don't give me away!
1 didn't kill the man was sent to the
pen for doin up, though there was some
hard swearin done ag'in me. They've
got On to the Teller that did it, though
they haven't caught him yet. My ole
mammy's mighty sick at home and
wrote word she was pinin to see me
fore she died. l told the captain il
he'd let me go I'd shore come back. but
he laughed at me and lowed I'd go
when my time was out and not befo',
and that would have been never. for
was sent up for life. / couldn't stand
it, cap, lyin awake all night gI1evin
bout my good old nanny.
" she was always good to me, so this
mornin when the guard wasn't very
close l made n break and got n good
start befo' they could get the hounds
from the camp to the field. My mind
was made up. cap, to get away or get
killed tryin. Cap, if you'll help me,
you'll never be sorry
Il couldn't resist the pleading in that
nigger's eyes There was truth in
them. / knew the risk. but your over
alls were in the tool locker, Ned, and
they covered the convict's big carcass
fairly well. The stripes we sunk in the
ditch with a lot of loose bolts and nuts
tied up in the roll.
HE waited in the thicket while 1
righted up the wire, and then 1 took
him down pretty near to Greensburg.
HE wanted my name and address,
got both, and after nearly crushing my
hand in a thankful shake struck off
through the swamp with my cap on his
head.
when I got back to DezeIl half a
dozen horses were hitched about the
depot, and n lot of guards from the
convict camp We're in the Office with
Sam Coleman. the agent.
"When walked in, Sam says. who
the thunder was that pulled you
through here this morning, BillyY
Oh says 1, that was our foreman.
Charley Lang. He was in a rush to
catch No. 16 on the river loop. and,
being A No. at the lever. which I'm
not. he took hold The crowd didn't
seem to take TO this exactly to please
me and piled on a lot more questions
I 10 i m N n
lying.
"And now comes this letter. written
for the niger, to tell me that he got to
his ammy in time. went back to camp
after she died and that he's got the
governors pardon in his pocket.
Some way can't feel as bad about
that spell of lying as maybe ought
to."-New Orleans Times-Democrat.