Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1902-08-08

floor of the car rose to meet the roof.
The last that Esterley remembered
was plunging forward through the air.
When he came to himself, he found
about him great pile of debris. He
was deep hidden in what remained of
the cara mass of broken tfn,scg3, a
torn iron and of wrepched steel rods
and some ten feet above him was the
open air. A white dead face stared at
him through the broken wreckage.
Gingerly Esterley moved first one arm
and then the other. They were free,
and he went over himself coolly to es-
innate the damage. Except for cut
a The head he was quite unhurt, but
his legs were pinned down between two
great timbers beyond the hope of ex-
trication. He tied handkerchief
around his cut head, and began his
attempt to free himself. Had the
timbers come two inches nearer to-
gether, his ankles would have been
snapped like pipestems; had they been
two inches farther apart, he would
have been free.
Esterley called to a passing brake
man. The man stopped looked around,
and caught sight of him. He called
to another man.
There's fellow pinned down in
tlis second car, Norton Send the
gang here"
Presently Esterley could see that
men were at work with axes saws, and
crowbars to rescue him. He had been
conscious without thinking of it that
the air was hazy with smoke, but his
mind had taken no account of the fact.
Now he heard a persistent, faint
cracking sound. A horrible fear
mashed through his brain, and he
slowed his head round. The car behind
him had caught fire. His heart con-
tracted and stood for moment with
a CHASTITY horror Good heavens, he
would be roasted alive, unless the res
cuing party reached him in time! 1t
was a race for his life. He could see
that they were working desperates-,
but he could not help calling out to
hurry for Gods sake. He tried franti-
cally to draw his feet from the trap
which pinioned them, but he only sue
ceeded in cutting them against the
timbers till the blood streamed from
his raw ankles.
Then he fell quiet, saying to himself
over and over again, Keep cool, Ned
Esterley Keep cool. There must be
some way out of this thing. Good
God. there MUST" The sweat OF
agony poured from his face. How
slow the rescuers were, and how fast
the flames leaped toward himi He
wanted to keep crying out to the men
to hurry, but he bit back the words.
They were doing all that mortal men
could do.
Gradually it dawned upon him that
he was lost. Great volumes OF smoke
rolled between him the rescuers, tell
ing him that they could not reach him
in time. With the assurance-after
the first frantic rush of fear-there
came to Esterley singular GOODNESS.
He drew his revolver from his hip
pocket, and laid it on the crook OF
bent rod near his hand, where it would
be ready for emergencies. Then he
got from his coat pocket note book,
and from his vest lead pencil. One
OF the DrdheIueu ABOVE, ueWiuS away
at cross timber which barred their
way, muttered to the engineer:
Good Lord, Norton. He's writing
Saying that we amt likely going to
reach him. Amt he got the bully
nerve?"
Esterley first carefully noted down
the address to which he wanted his
letter forwarded. then wrote his let
ter.
Dear Elise: Our train has just col
lided With another, and l am pinned
down In the wreckage. The train crew
are working to get me out, but they
will not succeed, for the wreck Is on
fire, and the flames rapidly spreading
this way. write this note as my last
word to you, and after writing 1t.