The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-12-27
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tEffS<1l rebuilt from pilot 10 tender
- our master mechanic, Neighbour
had an idea. after her terrific collision, that
she could not stand heavy mainline passen-
ger runs. so he put her on the Acton cuton.
II was what railroad men call a jerkwater
run. whatever that may be; little jaunt
OF ten miles across the divide connecting
the northern division with the Denver
stem. 1t was just like running a trolley.
and the run was given to Dad Sinclair, for
after that lift at oxford his back was
never strong enough to shovel coal, and he
had 10 take an engine or quit railroading.
Thus IL happened that after many years
he took the throttle once more and ran
over. twice a day, as he does yet, from
Acton 20 Willow Creek.
His boy, George Sinclair. the kid engi-
neer. took the run the flyer opposite
Foley Just soon as he got well
George. who was never happy unless he
had eight or ten Pullmans behind him, and
the right-of-way over everything between
Omaha and Denver. made great sport of
his fathers little smoking-car and day
coach behind the big engine.
Foley made sport Of the remodeled en-
CINE. He used TO stand by while the old
engineer was oiling and ask him whether
he thought she could catch jackrabbit.
was feeling we'll"
Sinclair took it all grimly and quietly;
he had railroaded too long to care for any
body's chan. But one day. after the Sky
scraper had got her fues pretty well
chalked up with aIkali, Foley insisted that
she must be renamed.
81 have the only genuine skyscraper on
the West End myself" declared Foley. He
did have a new class III engine, and she was
awe-inspiring, in truth. Il don't propose"
he continued. Ito have her confused witE
your old tub any longer. Dad"
Dad, oiIng his old tub affectionately, an
swered never a word.
..she's full of soda. isn't she, father?'
asked George. standing by.
Reckon she Is, SON"
Full OF water. SUPPOSE
"Try to keep her that way, son."
"salsoda. isn't it. Dad?'
Now. 1 can't say. AS to that-I can't
say"
Wen call her Sal Soda. Georgia." sug-
gested Foley.
NO" interposed Georgia; 'stop bit. 1
have it. Not Sal Soda, at all-make it
Soda-Water Sal"
Then they laughed uproariously; and in
the teeth OF Dad Sinclair's protests-the
queer name stuck 10 the engine, and sticks
yet.
To have seen the great hulking machine
you would never have suspected there could
be another story left in her. Yet one there
was; a story of the wind. AS she stood,
too, where old Sinclair took her on the
Acton run, she was the best illustration L
have ever seen of the adage that one can
never tell from the looks of a frog how far
1t will jump.
Have you ever felt the wind? Not, I
think, unless you have lived on the seas
or on the plains. People everywhere think
the wind blows; but it really blows only
on the ocean and on the prairies.
The summer that Dad took the Acton run,
1t blew for a month steadily. All of one
August-hot, dry, merciless; the despair
of the farmer and the terror of trainmen.
IL was on an August evening, with the
gale still sweeping up from the south
west that Dad came numbering into Acton
with his little trolley train. He had barely
pulled up at the platform TO unload his
passengers when the station agent, Morris
Reynolds, cOatless and hatless, rushed up
to the engine ahead and sprang into the
cab. Reynolds was one of the quietest fell
lows in the service. To him without
coat or hat didn't count for much in such
weather; but 10 him sallow with
fright and almost speechless was enough
TO stir even old Dad Sinclair.
1t was not Dads habit to ask questions.
but he looked at the man I'm questioning
amazement- Reynolds choked and caught
at his breath as he seized the engineers
arm and pointed down the line.
Dad" he gasped three cars of coal
standing over there on the spur blew loose
few minutes ago.
Where are they? Blown through the
switch and down the line, forty miles
hour
The old man grasped the frightened man
by the shoulder. What do you mean?
How long ago? When is due? Talk
quick. man! What's the matter with your
Nnf five min No &c Hrra har
in less than thirty minutes; they'll go into
her sure. Dad cried Reynolds. all in a
fright, "what'H / do? For heavens sake
do something. called up Riverton and
tried 10 catch 1. but she'd passed. L
was too late. There'll be a wreck and I'm
booked for the penitentary. What can l
do?'
All the while the station agent panic
stricken. ratified on Sinclair looking
at his watch-casting ii up-charting il all
under his thick gray. grizzled WOOL fast
as thought could compass.
No. 1 headed for Acton and her pace was
a hustle every mile Of the way; three cars
of coal blowing down on her, how fast he
dared not think: and through it all he was
asking himself what day IL was. Thurs
day? Ur. les, George. his boy was on the
flyer No. i. 1t was his day UP. If they
''Uncouple her!" roared Dad Sinclair, in
q giant tone.
What are you going to do?'
Burns" Numbered Dad to his fireman,
"give her steam, and quick, boy, Dump in
grease. waste, oil. everything Are you
clear thereF ne cried, opening the throttle
as he looked back
Tie old engine, pulling clear of her coach
es. quivered as she gathered herself under
the steam. She leaped ahead with a swish
The drivers churned in the sand. bit into
= Il with gritting tires and forged ahead with
a suck and a hiss and a roar. Before
Reynolds had fairly gathered his wits Sin
clair. leaving his train on the main track
IN front of the station, was Gathering over
the switch after the runaways. The wind
was a terror and they had too good a start
But the Soda-Water Sal took the gait when
she once felt her feet under her and made
the wrinkled engineer at her throttle set
his mouth with the grimness OF a game
ster. 1t meant the Tunaways-and catch
thsm-or the ditch for SOda-Water Sal: and
the thrOb5ing old machine seemed 10 know
IL. for her nose hung TO the steel like the
snOut of a pointer.
He was "A man OF hundred even then
Burns; but LObOdy knew it, then. We hadn't
thought much about Burns before. He was
tall lank Irish boy, with an open face
and morning smile. Dad Sinclair took him
on because nobody else would have him
Burns was so green that Foley said you
couldn't set his name afre. He would so
Foley said, put out hot box just by blink
ing at IL.
D.