The Evening statesman. [volume] (Walla Walla, Wash.) 1903-1910, 1907-01-04

The Chicago Tribune. is running a
series Of interesting tales of narrow
ESCAPES from death, written by those
who passed through the thrilling ex-
periences. Here are few of the stor-
les:
~hoop Skirt" Nearly Cause Of Death.
1t happened many years ago, when
hoop skirts were in fashion. My nus
band had been conducting summer
school in northern Illinois. My year
Old bow and / had spent the closing
DAYS of the term with him and we
were all on our way home to Iowa. A
change of cars was necessary at a
small junction. where hotel accommo-
dations were poor. If connection coulo
he made. we could reach home within
twenty minutes. If not, a night OF
discomfort must be spent.
He was to take the sleeping boy,
the satchel and the moment our north
bound train stopped for the crossing
we were to get off and make a dash
for the west bound train. The man and
baby were off as planned, but l was
in the ditch, thrown by my hoop catch
ing on the car step. The weight of my
body, and my position, held the steel
band taut. and it resisted all efforts
to free myself.
In the moonlight, / saw the wagon
road near, and parallel to the rail-
road team of wildly plunging horses.
My train began to move. 1t seemed
that death must surely come, either
from the frightened team or the NOV
ing train. | was dragged a short dis
lance, but coming to a culvert l caught
mold of projecting board and braced
myself sufficiently to break the hoop.
Ny clothes were torn, my hands and
face We're scratched, but scrambled
to my feet, picked up my catchel, and
ran up the station platform, only to
find that he and the boy had been a
second too late for the west bound
train. and we were forced to spend the
night at the village hotel
Mrs. l. j. B.
Hanaed Because Food Was Bad.
In the spring of 1908, growing tired
Of city life, l foundn a position in
railroad construction camp in north
ern Wisconsin. There We're eighty la
borers in camp, and a rougher, surlier
set of hobos never got together. Their
principal complaint was about the
food.
For month Dutch Louie, the cook,
and l managed to keep some kind of
order, but one Saturday night Louie
went to town with a weeks wages in
his pocket, and Sunday morning found
MIN missing. The second cook an in
experienced young fellow, took his
place The hobos, surlier than ever,
We're clamoring for their delayed break
fast, and young Charlie, in his hurry
and nervousness, dished up and sent
in to them platterful of BACON and
liver not half cooked.
heard the growing in the dining
car rise to a yelp, and then change TO
a roar. The next minute the hohos
came crowding through the doors with
the shout where's the cook? Give
us the cook till we beat the life out
of him. But a big red haired Irish
man in the lead, catching sight of me,
yelled, Lets hang the commissary."
4 There was no chance to fight. There
was no time to run. Forty hands grab
he'd me. and | was kicked and dragged
to a nearby tree, while the leader
shouted for someone to bring rope.
In an instant it was around my neck
and brawny arms We're dragging the
other end across a branch. Swing
him up, fellows shouted the Irish
man. The rope frightened and l shot
into the air.
The kitchen help had gathered their
wits together, and armed with one re-
volver. two carving knives, and a meat
AK, charged the mob. A hobo is born