The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-01-10
By Frank H. Spear n

setting
of night; but when the big engine struck
the BLUM the heavy train was well in hand,
and it rolled down the long grade as gently
as a curtain.
Ben was none too careful, for halfway
down the hill they exploded torpedoes.
| Through the. driving storm the tail-lights
OF the flyer were presently seen. As they
pulled carefully ahead, Ben made his way
through the mud and rain TO the head and
found the passenger-train stalled. Just
before them was Blackwood Creek, bank
full, and the bridge swinging over the
swollen stream like a grapevine.
At the foot of Beverly Hill there is
siding-a long siding, once used as a sort of
cutoff to the upper GAINESVILLE yards. This
side track parallels the main track for half
mile and on this siding Ben, as soon
he the situation. drew in with his train
so that it lay beside the passenger train
and left the main line clear behind. 1t then
became his duty TO guard the track 10 the
rear, where the second section of the stock
train would soon be due.
1t was pouring rain and as dark as
pocket. He started his hnd-end brakeman
back on the run with red lights and tor
pedOes to warn the second section we'll up
the hill. Then walking across from his
caboose, he got under the lee of the hind
Pullman sleeper TO watch for the expected
headlight.
The storm increased in violence. 1t was
not the rain driving in torrents, not the
lightning blazing nor the deafening crashes
of thunder, that worried him, but the wind
IL blew gale. In the blare of the lightning
he could the oaks which crowned the
| bluffs whip like willows in the storm. 1t
swept quartering down the Beverly cut a
II IL would tear the ties from under the
steel. Suddenly he saw, far up in the black
SKY. star blazing; 1t was the headlight
A whistle cut the wind; then another It
was the signal for brakes; the second sec
| tion was coming down the steep grade. He
wondered how far back this man had got
with the bombs. Even as he wondered he
saw yellow fash below the headlight it
was the first torpedo. The second section
i olraao 1xrx LII
Could they hold il to the bottom?
Like an answer came shorter and sharper
the whistle for brakes Ben thought he
knew who on that engine; thought he
knew that whistle, for engineers whistle as
differently they talk. He still hoped
and believed, knowing who was on the en-
CINE, that the brakes would hold the heavy
load, but he feared
man running up in the rain passed him.
Ben shouted and held up his lantern; it
was his head brakeman.
who's pulling second 77? he cried.
Andy Cameron"
How many air cars has he got?''
six or eight" shouted Ben. It's the
wind. Daley, the wind. Andy can hold her
If anybody can. But the wind! Did you
ever see such blow?"
Even while he spoke the cry for brakes
came a third time on the storm.
frightened Pullman porter opened the
rear door of the sleeper. Five hundred peo-
pie lay in the excursion train, unconscious
of this avalanche rolling down upon them.
The conductor of the flyer ran up TO Ben
in panic.
Buckley they'll telescope u.s."
Can your pull ahead any?"
THE bridge is out
"Get out your passengers" said Bens
| brakeman.
There's no time" cried the passenger
conductor, wildly, running off. He was
| panic-stricken. The porter tried to speak.
| He took hold of the brakeman's arm, but
| his voice died in his throat. Fear paralyzed
| him. Down the wind came CameronS
whistle, clamoring now in alarm. 1t meant
| the worst, and Ben knew it. The stock
| train was running away.
There were plenty of things to do if there
was only time; but there was hardly time 10
| think. The passenger crew were running
| about like men distracted, trying to get the
| sleeping travellers out Ben knew they
| could not possibly reach a tenth of them.
| In the thought of what ii meant an inspira-
tion came like flash.
| He seized his brakeman by the shoulder.
For two weeks the man carried the marks
| of his hand
crack, get those two stockmen out OF
| your cabOose. Quick mani I'm going to
throw Cameron into the cattle"
1t was chance-Single, desperate but yet
| chance-the only chance that offered to
! save the helpless passengers In his charge.
If ne could reach the siding switch ahead
| of the runaway train he could throw the
! deadly catapult on the siding and into his
! own train, and so save the unconscious
| travellers. Before the words were out of
his mouth he started up the track at top
! most speed.
The angry wind staggered him. 1t blew
| out his lantern, but he flung it away, for
he could throw the switch in the dark. A
| sharp gust tore half of his raincoat from
| his back; ripping off the rest, he ran on.
| When the wind took his breath he turned
| his back and fought for another Binding
! sheets of rain poured on him. water stream
| ing down the track caught his feet; a sliv
| cred tie tripped him. and, falling headlong.
| the sharp ballast cut his wrists and knees
| like broken glass. In desperate haste he
| dashed ahead again. the headlight doomed
| before him like mountain of flame. There
was light enough now through the sheets
of rain that swept down or him, and there
! ahead, the train almost on ii, was the
switch.
Could he make it?
! A cry from the sleeping children rose in
his heart. Another breath an instant f1oun-
dering, a slipping leap. and he had it, He
pushed the key into the lock, threw the
switch and snapped it, and, to make deadly
sure, braced himself against the target rod.
/ Then he looked.
No whistling now; it was past that He