Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1901-05-06
THE DEVILS OWN"
A Story of a Station
Agent.
BY CHARLES DONALD MACEAY.

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Tom Dean was ticket agent and tele-
graph operator for the Union Pacific at
Wellsyille, a settlement of not more
than a few dozen scattered houses, the
most pretentious of which was the
hotel and lunchroom." About 100
yards down the track from this popu-
lar resort at train time" stood low,
one roomed building, the station,
Toms st. Helena.
To an energetic, ambitious young
man, socially inclined, Wellsville was
well nigh intolerable, but Tom had
hopes and made the best of IT, He had
removed his belongings from the ''ho-
tel to Mrs. Jordan's cozy little cottage,
where he made himself at home. He
found Miss Jordan a charming COM
panion and years ahead Of the vii
lage In every way" Nevertheless the
uncventful days would drag. and the
nights-well, after the $50 "accommo-
dation" pulled out until 11:10, when
the west bound express" dashed past,
one might as well have been stationed
in the middle of the Great Sahara. At
least so Tom said many times.
One raw, gusty December night just
before the holidays Tom with much
pleasure piled the three cases billed
through to Omaha OH the truck and ran
them down the track, ready to be haul
ed aboard the baggage car of the COM
ing train. He was not overfond OF
work, but this meant the stopping of
the express, the latest newspapers and
good reading for several days. To sig
nal the express was All event
Taking a last look at the lights, he
entered the station and slammed the
door after him as il to bar out the
loneliness Of the dripping outside
world. The last light in the hotel had
gone out long before the wind howled
in the wires, the red light blinked and
fickered-
well, of all the God forsaken"-
The door opened suddenly, and two
men stepped Into the room, followed
by third.
Hands up-quick" the foremost
cried.
In less than two minutes Tom was
bound, gagged and lying helpless be-
hind the partition in the baggage end
of the room
Hes safe. Where's Jim?" asked
the man who had spoken before.
Down to the sidin," came the an
swer. "Set the white light"
The door closed quickly after them.
Out of Toms bewilderment and con-
fusion came the question, What did it
mean? Robbery? There was nothing
worth the risk at the station, and the
men had gone.
"Set the white light" That meant
the express would not stop.
Down to the siding" The blind sid
ing. an eighth OF a mile beyond the
station by the sand hill! 1t ended in
the gravel bank.
The terrible truth flashed across his
mind. He turned cold. Great beads
of moisture stood out upon his fore
head. Twenty-six, with It's living
freight, was to be switched on to the
siding at full speed.
AS the horror of 1t rushed upon him
Tom strained at the cords that bound
him hand and foot with strength he
never dreamed he possessed. 1t was
useless. The work had been done well.
He looked quickly at the clock-10:41.
In 20 minutes more the train would be
due. As he turned the knots of the
gag pressed into the back of his head.
Bearing heavily upon them, unmindful
of the pain, he moved his head, forcing
his chin downward. They gave. They
moved. Again he tried and again, un-
til at last the handkerchief slipped to
his neck.
Help, help! Townsend! Bill! Help
he cried. But his voice was lost in the
mocking howl of the wind, and be real
lied that the effort was strength wast-
ed and time lost.
Again be looked at the clock--only &c
minutes remained. HQw fast. the sec
Onds flew! twenty-five
The sharp click, click, click, from the
other side of the partition caught his
cara telegraphic message. Twenty.
six 20 minutes late
Thank God, delay
Forty-four minutes nova gain of
20. The train, due at lilo, would not
arrive until 11:30. Townsend relieved
him at IL. TOO late! Too late" rush
ed through his mind as he glared at
the clock. Then the light of hope fair
" blazed In his eyes.