The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-01-31


But at long intervals Duck gets back to
revisit the scenes of his early triumphs.
The men who surrounded him were once
at deadly odds with Duck and his chums,
though now the ancient enmities seem for
gotten, and Duck-the once ferocious
Duck-sits occasionally among the new
men and gossips about the early days on
the west end.
do you remember Siclone, Reed?" asked
Duck, calling to me in the private Office.
Remember him?" 1 echoed. did any
body who ever knew SiclOne forget him?''
II fired passenger for Siclone twenty
years ago." resumed Duck. HE walked
just like that fellow, only he was quicker.
1 reckon you fellows don't know what
snap you have here now" he continued,
addressing the men around him. Track
fenced; underground rails; steel bridges;
stone culverts; Stag ballast; skyscrapers.
No wonder you get chances to haul such
nobs as Liliuokalani and Schley and Dewey,
and cut ninety miles an hour on tangents.
when 1 was firing for Siclone the road
bed was just off the scrapers, the dumps
were soft, pile bridges, paper culverts, ff-
ty-six-pound rails, not a fence west of Buff
falo Gap, and the plains black with Texas
steers. We never closed our cylinder
cocks; the hiss of the steam frightened the
cattle worse than the whistle. and we never
knew when we were going to find a bunch
of critters on the track.
1.-The first winter 1 came out was great
for snow, and 1 was a tenderfoot. The cuts
made good windbreaks and whenever there
was norther they were chuck full of cat
tie. Every time a train plowed through
the snow IL made a path on the track.
Whenever the steers wanted to move they
would take the middle of the track, single
file. and string out mile after mile. Talk
about your fast schedules and ninety miles
an hour. You had to poke along with your
cylinders splitting, and just whistle and
yell-sort of blow them off into the snow
drifts.
Zone day Siclone and I were going west
on No. So and we were late; for that mat
fer we were always late. Simpson, coming
against us on No. 60 had caught a bunch of
cattle in the rock cut, just west of the
Sappie, and killed a couple. When we got
there there must have been thousand
head of steers housing around the dead
ones. Siclone-he used to be a cowboy, you
know-Sclone said they were holding a
wake. At any rate. they were still coming
from every direction and as far as we
could see.
Hold on Siclone, and I'll chase them
out said.
THAT'S the stuff, Duck, says he. Get
after them and see what you can do. He
looked kind of queer. but I never thought
anything. picked up a jackbar and start
ed up the track.
THE first fellow I tackled looked lazy,
but he started full quick when 1 hit him.
Then he turned around to inspect me, and
/ noticed his horns were the broad-gauge
variety. When L whaclxed another the first
one put his head down and began to snort
and paw the ties; then they all began to
below at once; it looked smokey. dropped
the jackbar and started for the engine, and
about fifty started for me.
81 never had an idea steers could run so;
you could have played checkers on my
heels all the way back. If Siclone hadn't
come out and jollied them I'd never got
back in the world. / just jumped the pilot
and went clear over against the boiler-head.
SicIone claimed 1 tried to climb the smoke
stack, but he was excited Anyway, he stood
out there with a shovel and kept the whole
bunch off me. L thought they would kill
him; but 1 never tried to chase range
steers on foot again.
I'm the spring we got the rains; not like
you get now, but cloudbursts. The section
men were good fellows, only sometimes we
would get into a storm miles from a sec
ton gang, and strike a place where we
couldn't see a thing. Then Siclone would
stop the train, take a bar and get down
ahead and sound the roadbed. Many and
many a washout he struck that way which
would have wrecked our train and wound
up our ball of yarn in a minute. Often and
often Siclone would get into his division
without dry thread on him.
"Those were different days." unused the
grizzied striker. 1.-The old boys are scat
tered now ali over this broad land. The
strike did it, and you fellows have the snap.
But what 1 wonder, often and often, is
whether Siclone is really alive or not
Sicone Clark was one of the two cow
boys who helped Harvey Reynolds and Ed
Banks save No. 50 at Griffin the night the
coal train ran down from Ogalalla. They
were both taken into the service; Siclone,
after awhile. went to wping.
When Bucks asked his name, Siclone an
swered, rs. Clark"
Whats your full name?" asked Bucks
IS Clark"
but what does S. stand for?" persisted
Bucks.
Stands for Cyclone. reckon; don't it?''
retorted the cowboy. with some annoyance.
1t was not usual in those days on the
plains to press man too closely about his
name. There might be reasons why it
would not be esteemed courteous
II reckon it do" replied Bucks, dropping
into Siclones grammar; and without a
CULVER he registered the new man as Isl
clone Clark. and his checks always read
that way The name seemed to tit: he
adopted it without any objection and, after
everybody came to know him. 1t fitted 50
well that Bucks was believed to have a
second sight when he named the half
Drained fireman. He could get up storm
quicker than any man on the division. and
if he felt so disposed. stop one quicker.
In spite of his eccentricities, which were
many, and his headstrong way of doing
some things. Siclone Clark was a good en-
gineer. and deserved a better fate than the
one that befelI him. Though-who can
tell?-it may have been just TO his liking.
The strike was the worst thing that ever
happened to Siclone. He was one Of those
big-hearted, violent fellows who went into
il loaded with enthusiasm. He had nothing
TO gain by il; at least, nothing to speak of
But the idea that somebody on the east end