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

refrigerators. When / got to him he ex.
planned to me how he was dragged in and
had to tear the sleeves out of his blouse
under water to get free
The surprise is, how little fuss men make
about such things when they are busy II
took only five minutes for the conductor
to hunt up coil of wire and a sounder
for me- and by the time he got forward
with 1T Bartholomew was half way up
telegraph pole to help me cut in on live
wire. Fast as 1 could L rugged a pony and
began calling the McCloud dispatcher. 1t
was a rocky send. but after no end of
pounding L got him, and gave orders for the
wrecking gang and for one more of Neigh
boris rapidly decreasing supply of Iocomo-
tives.
Bartholomew, sitting on a strip of fence
which still rose above water looked forlorn.
To lose the first engine he ever handled,
in the Beaver, was tough, and he was evil
IDENTIFY specializing on his chances of ever
getting another. If there weren't tears in
his eyes, there was storm water certainly.
But after the relief engine had pulled what
was LETT of US back six miles to a siding
/ made 1t my first business to explain to
Neighbor, nearly beside himself, that
Bartholomew was not only not at fault, but
that he had actually saved the train by
his nerve.
"Pn tell you. Neighbour" suggested,
when We got Strengthened around, 'give us
the 100 to go ahead as a pilot and run the
stuff around the river division with Foley
and the 216."
"Whatll you do with No. 6r' growled
Neighbor. Six was the local passenger
west.
"Annul 1t west of McCloud," said I, in
stantly. We've got this silk on our hands
now. and I'd move 1T If ii tied up every
passenger train on the division. If we can
get the Internal stuff through it will prac-
ticaily beat the strike; if we fail it will beat
the company
BY the time we backed to Newhall juno
ton Neighbor had made up his mind my
way. Mullen and / climbed into the 109.
and Foley with the PIG, and none too good
grace, coupled on to the silk, and, flying red
signals, we started again for GAINESVILLE
over the river division.
Foley was always full of mischief He
had better engine than ours, anyway,
and he took satisfaction the rest of the aft
ernoon in crowding Every mile of the
l.
the coal and distinctly remember
1t was after dark when we reached the
Beverly hill, and we took it at a lively
pace. The strikers were not on our minds
then; 1t was Foley who bothered
When the long. parallel steel lines of the
upper yards spread before us, flashing under
the arc lights, we were away above yard
speed. Running locomotive into one of
those big yards is like shooting a rapid In
a canoe. There is a bewildering maze of
tracks lighted by red and green lamps to
be watched the closest. The hazards are
multiplied the minute you pass the throat,
and yard wreck Is dreadful tangle; 1t
makes everybody from roadmaster to flag
men furious. and not even Bartholomew
wanted to face an inquiry on a yard wreck.
On the other hand. he couldn't afford to be
caught by Foley, who was chasing him out
of pure caprice.
/ saw the boy holding the throttle at a
half and lingering the air anxiously as we
jumped through the frogs; but the rough
est riding on track so far beats the ties
as a cushion that when the 100 stuck her
paws through an open switch we bounced
against the roof of the cab like footballs.
1 grabbed a brace with one hand and with
the other. reached instinctively across to
Bartholomew side to seize the throttle
he held. But as tried to shut him of
he jerked it wide open in spite of me, and
turned. with lightning In his eye
"No.' he cried. and his voice rang hard
The 100 took the tremendous shove at her
back and leaped like frightened horse
Away we went across the yard. through
the cinders, and over the ties. My teeth
have never been the same since. I don't
belong on an engine. anyway, and since
then 1 have kept off. At the moment /
was convinced that the strain had been
too much-that Bartholomew was stark