The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-09-13

me anywhere. / wouldn't done it-not for
anybody. Burdick is knocked clean out
too. Are you all ready back there?' The
pusher, disconnected. galloped BY with
jubilant kick for the round-house. and the
double-headers. watered and coaled afresh,
started with No. down the mountain side.
A different start that-a running past the
wind instead of into it; sluing that
brought excursionists up in a tumble the
sleepers swung lariat-like around the
canon corners. 1t was only case of hang
on after that, hanging on all the way to
Wild Hat; and then, just as the Columbian
Pacific train passengers left their break
fasts at Benton, No. /, gray and grimy,
rolled into the junction thirty-five minutes
late and the agony was over. The connec-
ton safe, but nobody noticed who
made it. Everybody was too much occu-
pied with the sunshine and the scenery to
observe pair of disreputable. haggard.
streaked, hollow-eyed tramps who made
their way modestly along the edge of the
crowd that thronged the platform. 1t was
only Pat Francis and Moore, conductor
and engineer of No. 1.
The agony was over for everybody but
Pat Francis. Ten days later, Bucks super
intendent of the mountain division, sat in
his den at the Wickiup, reading a letter
from the general manager:
Sir: On Thursday, June 2S, Conductor
r. Francis, leaving M. b. on No. 1, collected
cash fare of three dollars and fifty cents
from one of our special service men. He
failed to issue cash fare slip for this as
required; furthermore, he carried this pas
senger all the way to Benton. Kindly effect
his discharge. Let it be distinctly under
stood that all delinquencies of this nature
will be summary dealt with.
General Manager"
1t wasn't letter to go to the stove
not that kind of letter; but Bucks
fingered it much as Pat Francis ought to
have fingered the clever detective who
turned from the chair car to the smoker
on him and from a cattleman to "dago."
Bucks called the trainmaster. Francis
was west due t, leave Benton that after
noon on 2, and, as luck would have it, to
bring back the Brooklyn party from the
Yellowstone And the passenger depart
ment in Chicago was again heating the
wires with injunctions to take care of
them, and good care Of them, because the
excursion business on new line is not only
profitable, but it is hard to work UP, and
trouble with an excursion in the beginning
for years to come.
Bucks felt especially gratified to know
that Pat Francis had the precious load,
but what about the cash fare from Medi-
cine Bend to Red Cloud? Bucks knew
these things couldn't be trifed. with--not
on his line-and he faced the unpleasant
prospect of next morning greeting his right
bower in the passenger service with an ac-
cusation of theft and a summary dis
charge. If he had only asked me for three
dollars and half thought Bucks, sorely.
He would rather have given his own pay
check than TO have had Pat Francis hold
up one dollar.
And Pat Francis, taciturn, sphinx-like,
was punching transportation at that par
ticular moment No. on the run east
from Benton. Checking passengers, keep
ing one eye on the ventilators and the other
on the date limits, working both pencils,
both hands, both ears, both ends of the
punch, and both sides of the car at the
same time.
There wasn't cinder to break the even
enjoyment of the run up to the clouds.
Everybody was going home, and going
home happy. From the Pullmans-it was
warm and sunny in the mountains-came
nothing but rag-time and Brooklyn yells.
To describe our scenery might be invidious,
but the grade where No. 2 was then climb
ing would alone make the fortune of an
ordinary Eastern scenic line.
The Overland freight, No. Sc, east-bound
with a long train of tea, was pulling out
of Toltec station as No. stuck its head
into the foot of the Moose.
At Toltec on the day run, we take a
mans breath and give him large value
for his money in bit Of the prettiest en-
cheering anywhere on earth.
Toltec lies in the Powder range, near the
foot of a great curve called the Moose,
because every time an engineer slips the
head of his train into it he is glad to hold
his breath till he gets it out.
The Toltec Moose is engineering magnifi-
cent, but it is railroading without words
unless one counts the wicked words. Eagle
Pass station, the head of the Moose, looks
across an unspeakable gulf directly down
into Toltec, 500 feet below, and barely a
mile away. But by the rail we count seven
miles around the curve, and without any
Immigrant perquisites, either.
Every train that runs the Moose is
double-headed both ways, and now-this
was before-they add, to keep trainmen off
the relief scrap, pusher
That day there was no pusher behind