The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1902-10-05

coaches. quivered as she gathered her.
self under the steam. She leaped ahead
with a swish. The drivers churned in
the sand, bit into it with gritting tires,
and forged ahead with a suck and a
hiss and a roar. Before Reynolds had
fairly gathered his wits. Sinclair, leav-
ing his train on the main track in
front of the depot, was gathering over
the switch after the runaWays. The
wind was a terror, and they had too
good a start. But the way Soda
Water Sal took the gait when she
once felt her feet under her made the
wrinkled engineer at her throttle set
, his mouth with the grimness Of
gamester Ii meant the runaWays-
and catch them-Or the ditch for Soda
Water SAL and the throbbing old ma
chine seemed 20 know il, for her nose
hung to the steel like the snout of
a pointer.
He was a man of a hundred even
then-Burns; but nobody knew IL. then.
We hadn't thought much about Burns
before. He was a tall, lank Irish boy.
with an open face and a morning smile.
Dad Sinclair took him on because no
body else would have him. Burns was
so green that Foley said you couldn't
set his name afire. He would, so
Foley said. put out a hot box just by
blinking at il.
But every mans turn comes once.
and It had come for Burns. 1t was
Dick Burns chance now to show what
manner of stuff was bred in his long
Irish bones. Ii was his task 10 make
the steam-if he could-faster than Dad
Sinclair could burn IL. What use 10
grip the throttle and scheme II Burns
didn't furnish the power. put the life
into her heels as she raced the wind
the merciless, restless gale sweeping
the prairie faster than horse could
fly before il?
Working smoothly and swiftly into
"A dizzy whirl, the monstrOus drivers
took the steel in leaps and bounds Dan
Sinclair. leaning from the cab window
sloatingly watched their gathering
speed, pulled the bar up notch after
notch. and fed Burns fire into the
old engines arteries fast and faster
than she could throw it into her steel
hoofs.
That was the night the West End
knew that a greenhorn had cast his
chrysalis and stood out a man. Knew
that the honor roll of four frontier
division wanted one more name, and
that il was big Dick Burns. Sin
clair hung silently desperate to the
throttle his eyes straining into the
night ahead. and the face of the long
Irish boy. streaked with smut and
channeled with sweat. lit every min
ute with the glare OF the furnace as
he fed the white-hot blast that leaped
and curled and foamed under the
m CHI Of CelNra Nf.s# al
There he stopped and sweat and
swung. as she Slowed aRd lurched and
jerked across the fish-nlates. Care
fully, nursingly. ceaselessly he pushed
the steam pointer higher. higher high
er on the dial-and that despite the
tremendous draughts OF Dads throt-
tie.
Never a glance TO the right or the
left. 20 the track or the engineer. From
the coal TO the FIRE. the fire 10 the
water. the water 10 the gauge. the
gauge 10 the stack, and back again
10 the cOal--that was Burns. Neither
eyes nor ears nor muscles FOR anything
but steam.
Such a firing as the West End never
saw till that night such a firing as
the old engine never felt in her chok-
ing fues till that night: such a FIR
ing as Dad Sinclair. king OF all West
and East End firemen, lifted his hat
tO-that was Burns firing that night
on Soda-Water SAL the night she
chased the Acton runaways down the
track to save George Sinclair and
No. 4
IL was a frightful pace-how fright
ful no one ever knew: neither old man
Sinclair nor Dick Burns ever cared.
Only. the crew Of a freight. side