The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1905-01-25
A MAD REVENGE.

My name Is Morgan Grenoble, and TO
day I have reached the turning point OF
my thirtieth year. People say that I lool,
"odd' with almost snow white hair and
wonder how it came to be thus to one so
young.
Eight years ago on the goth Of this very
month I stood at. the altar with Laura
Comstock.
I was a telegraph operator and was sta
toned at Wayburg, a station 20 miles from
Stockton and at the terminus Of the then
D. G.. and G. R. railway.
Returning from u honeymoon, I left
my wife in Stockton and proceeded to
Wayburg, intending to remain at my old
post until relieved, which I thought would
be in a few days, as my offered resignation
had been accepted at headquarters. The
engineer on the sup" train was Mark
Moore, a rather handsome young fellow,
who had been my rival for the hand of the
woman I called my wife.
When the train stopped at Moreland's, /
alighted from the passenger coach n
walked forward to the engine. Mark was
busily engaged oiling the machinery.
elbow are you, Morgan?" he said as be
espied me and held out his hand. His
disappointment seemed to have left him,
and he was very pleasant "Going TO
Wayburg9"
"Yes."
"Just get in with me, then" he said.
I replied that T would do 80, and when
the train moved away I was occupying a
seat in the engine, chatting with the en-
gineer.
Zone hardly notices the ascent, but the
descant Is an entirely different thing. /
was thinking, Morgan, what a terrible
thing it would be If an engine with full
power on were to become unmanageable at
the top Of the grade and dash away.
"And If q man bent on revenge were to
place a fellow creature bound on the en-
CINE, what q terrible death he would has
ten to with almost lightning rapidityP
The following night was dark and tenn
p%estuous, and I alono occupied the sta.
ton, watching the little machine before
me. That day a new engine had arrived,
and Mark Moore had been put in charge
of it. From Q o'clock In the afternoon to
s I saw him moving about the engine.
Until 10 I watched the little machine.
Then Mark opened the door and stepped
into the small apartment.
. @Are you receiving a dispatch, Nor
gan?n he asked. %,
"No, Mark. Why do you askr"
because if you are not I wish you
would leave the CHECKERS a bic and come
and look at my Red Bird by lantern light
I am going to run down grade to Chal-
mers, reverse the engine and run back.
The train will. not be due here for an
hour, and I can go to Chalmers and re-
turn within 20 minutes" .
, We walked into the great temporary
shed where the new and beautiful engine
stood, ready to run off at the command Of
its master.
81 dare not be so long absent from my
post at this hour, Mark"
"Pooh, man, there's ne danger. You
must 60 with me-"
"But I cannot, Mark"
He put his lantern on the ground and
then sprang erect. ...
"You SHALL, Morg Grenoble9" he cried,
and before I could answer him he dashed
me to the earth and planted his knees on
my breast.
"Not q word out Of you, Morg," he said
hercely, producing a rope. "In tell you
what I'm going to do. You know we
were discussing the consequences attend
ing the rush of a maddened engine Town
the grade. I reckon I won't go to Chal-
mers, but will send you clear to the bot.
tom of the grade"
"Mark Moore, you are mad" I said.
Would you murder me in cold blood and
others who are coming up on the 11:1O
passenger"
eyes" he said coldly.
I might have resisted, but resistance
would have availed me nothing, for I was
constitutionally weak, while he was a
lion.
"ThereI' he said at last as he closed the
furnace door. Everything is ready for
your ride. You'll 60 right through Stock
ton, but I reckon you won't have time to
stop to speak to loving Laura. Goodby,
Morg. Write when you get to the foot OF
the grade"
The engine was moving, and he leaped
of. g.
"May heaven have mercy. on your soul,
Mark Moorel' I shouted after him.
The grade between Wayburg and Chal-
mers was quite steep, and before I reached
the little town the speed Of the Red Bird
and its tender seemed to rival that OF the
telegraph.
The towns with their glimmering lights
appeared and were gone In q flash.
The manner in which I vas bound per-
mitted me to look out Of the window.
l did so, and Stockton, the home Of my
wife, greeted me with its many lights.
r Ahead I saw many people waiting for
the II 10 passenger.
The next moment I was carried past
them.
saw their astonished faces and heard q
piercing shrek. .
recognized the voice as my wife's.
There was one hope for me-just one.
Perhaps the operator at Stockton had
telegraphed down the grade, and, thus
warned, the coming train would switch
and save its passengers from death.
Looking out, I saw far ahead the glar-
ing headlight Of the southern train.
To me it looked as though 1t stood on
my track. Evidently the train had not
been warned.
Suddenly I heard a man shout, ''Stand
backl' and, then, crashl all wal dark
sis no injured muchf'' somebody asked.
Sympathizing faces bent over me-, and q
surgeon was examining my wounds.
"The ties stopped the engine" said the
!ttWa receiyed a tele1rsm from