The Havre herald. [volume] (Havre, Mont.) 1904-1908, 1907-04-05

~ lX::R a4GsE3 .n aop' f,a,
IN Y. 3 r pi1ot to tender H.
Our master mechanic, Neighbor, had
an idea, after her terrific collision, that
she could not stand heavy main line
passenger runs, SO he put her on the
Acton cut off. 1t was what railroad
men call jerk water run, whatever
that may be, a little jau0t Of ten miles
across the divide connecting the north
ern division with the Denver stem.
1t was Just about like running troll
ley, and the run was given to Dad
Sinclair, for after that lift at Oxford
his back was never strong enough to
shovel coal, and he had to take an en-
CINE or quit railroading.
Thus it happened that after many
years he took the throttle once more
and ran over, twice a day, as he does
vet, from Acton to Willow Creek.
His boy, George Sinclair, the kid
engineer, took the run on the f1ier OPP
posite Foley just as soon as he got
well.
George, who was never happy I'M
less he had eight or ten Pullmans be-
hind him and the right Of way over
everything between Omaha and Den
yer, made great sport of his fathers
little smoking car and day coach be-
hind the big engine.
Foley made sport of the remodeled
engine. He used to stand by while
the old engineer was oiling and ask
him whether ne thought she could
catch a jack rabbit. II mean," Foley
would say, off the rabbit was feeling
well'
Dad Sinclair took it all grimly and
quietly. He had railroaded too long TO
care for anybody's chaff. But one day,
after the skyscraper had got her iues
pretty we'll chalked up with alkali, TO
ley insisted that she must be renamed.
IT have the only genuine skyscraper
on the West End myself" declared Fo-
ley. He did have a new Glass II en-
CINE, and she was awe inspiring, in
truth. IT don't PROPOSE" he continued,
ito have her confused with your old
tub any longer, Dad"
Dad, oiling his old tub affectionately
answered never a word.
"She's full Of soda, isn't she, father?
asked George, standing by.
'Reckon she is, son."
Full of water, I suppose?
"Try to keep her that way, son."
"Sal Soda, isn't it, Dad?'
snow, can't say. AS to that can't
say"
'We'll call her Sal Soda, George, >
suggested Foley.
mo-" interposed George. "Stop s
bit. I have it. Not Sal Soda at all
Make it Soda Water SAL"
Then they laughed uproariously, an6
in the teeth Of Dad Sinclair's protests
for he objected at once and vigorously
the queer name stuck to the engine
and sticks yet.
To have seen the great hulking ma
chine you would never have suspected
there could be another story left in her
Yet one there was-a story Of the wind
AS she stood, too, when old man Sin
clair took her on the Acton run, sht
was the best illustration I have eve
seen Of the adage that one can neve
tell from the looks Of a frog how fal
1t will jump.
Have you ever felt the wind? Not
think, unless you have lived on thu
seas or on the plains. People every
where think the wind blows, but i
really blows only on the ocean and OIL
the prairies.
The summer that Dad took the Actor
run it blew for a month steadiIy-al
of one August-hot, dry, merciless, thu
despair of the farmer and the terror o
trainmen.
1t was on an August evening, witt
the gale still sweeping up from tn,
southwest, that Dad came numbering
into Acton with his little trolley train
He had barely pulled up at the plat
form to unload his passengers whe1
the station agent, Morris Reynolds
coatless and hatless, rushed up to tn,
engine ahead Of the hostler and spran:
into the cab. Reynolds was one O
the quietest fellows in the service T,
see him without coat or hat didn'
count for much in such weather, blu
to see him sallow with fright and al
most speeches. was enough to sti
even old Dad Sinclair.