The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-12-06

crazy. He sat bouncing clear to the roof
and clinging to his levers like lobster.
But his strategy was dawning on me: in
fact. he was pounding it into me. Even the
shock and scare of leaving the track and
tearing up the yard had not driven from
Bartholomew NOODLE the most important
feature of our situation. which was. above
everything, to keep out of the way of the
silk train.
I felt every moment more mortified at my
attempt to shut him off. / had done the
trick of the woman who grabs the reins.
1t was even better to tear up the yard than
to stop for Foley to smash into and scatter
the silk over the coal chutes. Bartholo-
news decision was one of the traits which
make the runner-instant perception
coupled to instant resolve. The ordinary
dub thinks what he should have done to
avoid disaster after it is all over; Bartholo-
NEW thought before.
On we bumped. across frogs, through
switches, over splits and into target rods,
when-and this is the miracle of it all-the
100 got her forefeet on a split switch, made
contact, and after a slew or two, like a
begged horse, she swung UP sweet on the
rails again, tender and all. Bartholomew
up double and nailed her feet with the air,
right where she stood.
We had left the track, plowed hundred
feet across the yards and jumped on to an
other track 1t is the only time 1 ever
heard of it happening anywhere, but 1 was
on the engine with Bartholomew Mullen
when it was done.
Foley choked his train the instant he saw
III Itch eli bod
and ran back. He had stopped just where
we should have stopped If 1 had shut off.
Bartholomew ran to the switch to examine
it, The contact light, green, still burned
like false beacon; and lucky 1t did, for 1t
showed the switch had been tempered with.
and exonerated Bartholomew Mullen COM
pletely. The attempt of the strikers to
spill the silk right in the yards had only
made the reputation Of a new engineer.
Thirty minutes later the million-dollar
train was turned over to the eastern divi-
sion to wrestle with, and we breathed. all
of u.s. good bit easier.
Bartholomew Mullen, now a passenger
runner, who ranks with Kennedy and Jack
Moore and Foley and George Sinclair him.
self, got a personal letter from the general
manager complimenting him on his pretty
wit; and he was good enough to say moth
ing whatever about mine.
We registered that night and went to
supper together-Foley, Jackson, Bartholo-
NEW and l. Afterwards we dropped into
the dispatcher's office. Something was COM
ing from McCloud, but the operators, to
save their lives, couldn't catch it. / list
ened minute. 1t was Neighbor. Now,
Neighbor isn't great on dispatching trains.
He can make himself understood over the
poles, but his sending is like boys saving
wood-a sort of uneven.
However, though / am not much on run
ming yards, / claim to be able to take the
widest ball that ever thrown along
the wire and the chair was rendered me at
once to catch Neighbours extraordinary
passes at the McCloud key. They came
something like this:
ITO Opr.-Tell Massacre Chat was the
word that stuck them all. apd could per-
ceive Neighbor was talking emphatically;
he had apparently forgotten Bartholomew's
last name and was trying to connect with
the one he had disremembered the night
before) tell Massacre repeated Neighbor)
that he is al-l-l right. Tell him 1 give i'm
double mileage for to-day all the way
through. And tomorrow he gets the 1O9
to keep.-Neighb-b-or."
copyright, 1900, by Frank H. Spearman.l