The Havre herald. [volume] (Havre, Mont.) 1904-1908, 1906-02-16

HETlSRC g1I you can / run ludI SaIu
akgFS5s2ssSSSY5 with a Sunday school
S2&aAazsaiasaAS~ Superintendent He
won't make you any trouble unless he
gets to drinking. Ii that happens, don't
saave any words with him" Bucks I'M
darscored three times. Simply crawl
into a cyclone cellar and wire me.
Sending you eighteen loads of steel to-
night and six cars Of ties Blair re-
ports section 10 ready for track layers
and Mears outfit moving into the Pal
Rsade canyon. Push the stuff to the
front"
It>was getting dark, and Callahan sat
In that part of the BenkIeton depot he
called the office, pulling at muddy
root that went unaccountably hot i'll
sudden flashes. He took the pipe from
his mouth, leaving his foot on the ia
BILE, and looked at the bowl resentfully,
wondering again if there could be pow
der in that Internal tobacco of Rube-
DOS. The mouthpiece he eyed as
desperate man might ponder a final
shift.
The pipe had originally come from
| Gods country, with a beautiful am
Der mouthpiece and. d beautiful bowl,
but it was present from his sister
and had been bought at a dry goods
store. Once when thinking-or, if you
please, when not thinking-Callaha
had held a lighted match to the beau
tiful amber mouthpiece instead of to
The tobacco, and in the fire that ensued
they had hard work to save the depot.
Callahan never wrote his sister about
it, He thought only about buying
gipes at dry goods stores and about
being. when they exploded, thousand
miles from the man who sold them.
anere was plenty in that to think
about. What he now brought his teeth
reluctantly together on was part Of
The rubber tube of dismantled ato-
mizer, in happier post-Christmas days
a toilet fixture. But Callahan had
abandoned the use Of bay rum after
shaving. His razor had gone to the
scrap, and on Sunday morning he mere
Ivy ran pair Of scissors over the high
5oints---for Callahan was railroading--
ssnd on the front.
After losing the mouthpiece he would
have been completely In the air but for
Mttle Chris Oxen. Chris was Galatians
section, gang. His name was once
Ochsner, but that wasn't in Benkleton.
Callahan was hurried when he made up
tile payroll and put it Oxen, as being
better United States. I say United
States because Callahan said United
States in preference to English.
Chris had been in America only three
years, but he had been In Russia 300
and in that time had learned many
ways of getting something out Of moth
ing. When the red haired dispatcher,
after the explosion, cast away with bit
$erness the remains Of the pipe, Chris
picked it up and by judicious action
on the atomizer figured out q new
mouthpiece no worse than the original,
Tor, while the second, like the first, was
Of rubber it was not of the explosive
variety
Chris presented the remodeled root
30 Callahan as a surprise. Callahan, in
burst Of gratitude, promoted him on
Che spot. He made little Chris fore
man. 1t didn't bring any advance in
gay, but there was the honor. To be
foreman was an honor, and, as little
ghrls was the only man on the yard
sorce, he became by promotion foreman
Of himself.
SO Callahan sat thinking Of the in
genuity Of Chris, rejecting on the sting
Of construction tobacco and studying
ever Bucks letter.
The yard was his worry-not that it
was much of yard; just dozen runs
eff the lead to take the construction ma
kerial for Callahan to distribute fast as
ehe grade was pushed westward. The
trouble at the Benkleton yard came
from without, not from within.
The road was being pushed into the
eattle country, and it was all easy till
aley struck Benkleton. Benkleton was
Just hard knot on the Yellow Grass
trail, a squally, sandy cattle town.
1here We're some bad men in Benkle-
ton. They didn't bother often But
there were some men in Benl1leton who
thought they were bad, and these We're
a source of constant bedevilment to the
Failroad men.
Southwest Of the yard, where the riv-
or breaks sheer into the bottoms. there
hived and still hives a colony of rail-
road laborers, Russians. They have
squatted there. burrowed into the face
ut the bench like sand swallows and
scraped caves out for themselves. and
the name Of the place is Little Russia.
This was in the troublous days when
the cowboys, homesick for evil, would
ride around Little Russia with rope
and gun and scare the pioneers cross
eyed, The cattle fellows spent the en-
tire winter months, all sand and sun
shine, putting up schemes to worry
Callahan and the Little Russians. The
headquarters for this restless gang
were at Pat Barlie's place, across from
the postoffice 1t was there that the
cowboys loved to congregate To Cal