The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-03-29
A ROMANCE OF THE WAR.
How an Girl Saved an
Armored Train and Her Lover.
Pail Mall Gazette.

Al III htE LONtE
Pail Mall Gazette.
Sergeant, you will be in command Of the
train. 1 shall be on the veranda of the
farm over there. If anything untoward
happens turn on the searchlight and 1 will
return at once. I shall hear when % up
passes the siding"
Very good, SIR"
The officer in charge of armored train
No. q jumped from the footboard of his
saloon and dived into the darkness of the
veldt. He was a subaltern who had been
wounded at Mooiplaats. and since his con-
valescence had commanded No. 27-the
coffee cooler" as the men were pleased to
call their rolling fortress. No. 27 had now
been on this section OF the line for some
time escorting troop and supply trains. In
cidentally the officer In command had dis
covered the best farms at which to buy
eggs. milk and butter. But as he steered
his steps toward a neat little homestead
nesting against an underfeature OF Free
State kopje, some two hundred yards from
the siding where he had anchored his COM
mand for the night. he was not quite sure
whether eggs and bacon were the only at
fractions. He had not followed the main
road to the farm. Previous acquaintance
with the locality had taught him that there
was a more direct route. a Kaffir path led
round the confines of a water dam to where
a small wicket gate barred the approach
TO the plantation which incloSed the farm
house. The subaltern knew the path we'll
and evinced no surprise when he saw the
white of a Dutch cappie showing against
the darker shades of the plantation back
ground. In fact, he expected to see it
there, since he knew that the Jooste family
must have seen his train come in. The
owner of the cappie was leaning over the
wicket. 1t was too dark 10 see her face, but
light enough to discern the slight and grace
full lines of her form.
Good evening, Chris. How good
"Ssh-h. you must not speak so loud;
please, please go back to your train!'
There was no mistaking the earnest appeal
IN those few words expressed in the mine
ing tones of the pretty Afrikander tongue.
What is it, Chris?'
'Oh. go-go back. I am an Afrikander
girl; l cannot tell you why-only take this
eat it to-night!' As she pressed a parcel
into his hand a great finger of white light
cleft the shade of the plantation, q%uivered
q moment, and disappeared. 1t was the
searchlight signal. For a second the fea-
lures of the girl stood revealed. A round,
fresh face, a mass of fair, waving hair, and
eyes-eyes of that blue so common among
the Dutch. The subaltern should have
learned much in the brief life of that lime
light beam-much that it is often good for
a man to learn. The great round eyes were
filled with tears, the face was deathly pale.
Eat it tonight" The subaltern retraced
his steps with this soft injunction ringing
in his ears. In a few minutes he was back
with his train.
What is it. sergeant?"
Orders, sir. "Twenty-three up is de-
tanned. and we are to patrol up to Bloem-
fontein at once"
"All right; tell the driver and call the
pickets inn
The subaltern climbed into his saloon
and examined his parcel. 1t only contained
a little cake-a crude doughnut sprinkled
with currants. But he thought of the
fingers which had kneaded it. and was con-
tent.
Wilson" he said to his servant. I'VE
are going on at once. Don't trouble about
dinner; send me some food into the fore
battery" AS he put on his greatcoat the
subaltern slipped the gift cake into his
The moon was up. No. q armored train,
like some weird monster, was gliding
along at six miles an hour. The subaltern,
with a great fur rug all around him, sat
punched up in the fore battery with his
eyes glued. on the parallel of metals in
watch, studying the approaches TO the line
on the right and left. Terrible work, this
night patroling. You sit or stand a few
feet above the permanent way, watching
for such small sign-ruff1ed gravel, dis
lodged ballast or misplaced sleeper-as the
train wrecker has left behind him. You
know that everything depends upon your
vigilance-the safety of the train, the lives
of it's garrison. You know that if you fail
to detect the work of the dynamitard you
yourself are as good as a dead man, and
that your comrades will be mutilated with
you. The passage of each culvert is an
agony, each roll of the train is an alarm.
Death ever stareS you in the face. The
tension is such that the strongest nerves
will break down after a few weeks on a
bad section of the line.
Here. sergeant, take my place; 1 must
rest my eyes.
The subaltern leaned back against the
armored wall of the truck. He remembered
the cake and took it out of his pocket.
toyed with it a moment. and then broke
it in half. A little slip of paper huttered
from it and fell at his feet. He picked il
up, and then. thinking it passing strange.
lit a match and read. written in a girlish
hand. Don't cross Kaal Spruit tonight"
Where are we, sergeant He was on
his feet in a second.
Just about to cross Kaal Spruit. sir"
A spring to the communication The dial
licked stop" Two more vigorous pulls.
Full steam astern.' and as the brakes
closed on the wheel shafts the fore battery
was three feet from the culvert.
Down, men; down for your lives,'
yelled the subaltern. The train was under
way; slowly it backed, and then, as the
pistons began TO feel the steam pressure.
came the explosion. The bOgie swung and
rocked with the cOncussiOn. great pieces
of masonry struck its armored plates. but
il kept the rails.
Saved by a yard. sir" said the sergeant.
That was a contact mine; we shall have
a hot time getting out Of this
The Rare on Easter.