The Havre herald. [volume] (Havre, Mont.) 1904-1908, 1907-04-12


four hundred, three hundred, two hun
dred feet, and there was no longer
time to think With a stare, Sinclair
shut off. He wanted no push or pull on
the track The McWilliams Special
was just tremendous arrow, shooting
through truss Of fire and half dozen
speeches. men on either side OF the
river waiting for the catastrophe.
Jerry MacElroy cronched low under
the gauges. Sinclair jumped from his
box and stood with hand on the
throttle and hand on the air, the
glass crashing around his head like
hail. A blast of fiery air and flying Gin
ders burned and choked him. The en-
CINE, alive with danger, few like
great monkey along the wrthing steel.
So quick, 50 black, so hot the blast and
so terrific the leap. she stuck her nose
into clean air before the men in the
cab could rise to it.
There was heave in the middle like
the lurch of d seasick steamer, and
with it the Five-Nine got her paws on
cool iron and solid ground, and the
Mattaback and the blaze, all except a
dozen tongues which licked the cab
and the roof of the baggage car min
ute, were behind. George Sinclair,
shaking the hot glass out Of his hair,
looked ahead through his frizzled eye
lids and gave her a full head for the
western bluffs of the valley; then look
ed at his watch.
It was the one hundred and nine
tieth milepost just at her nose, and
was an hour to the good and seventy
six miles and a water to cover, but
they were seventy-six Of the prettiest
miles under ballast anywhere, and the
Five-Nine reeled them off like cylin-
der press. Seventy nine minutes later
Sinclair whistled for the Denver yards.
There was a tremendous commotion
among the waiting engines. If there
was one there were fifty big locomo-
tives waiting to charivari the McWil-
Mams Special. The wires had told the
story in Denver long before, and as
the Five-Nine sailed ponderously up
the gridiron every mogul, every con-
solidated, every ten wheeler, every
hog, every switch bumper, every air
hose screamed an uproarious welcome
to George Sinclair and the skyscraper.
They had broken every record from
McCloud to Denver, and all knew 1t,
but as the McWilliams Special drew
swiftly past every last man in the
yards stared at her cracked, peeled,
h1trfnrmH hn pvnrd 1nAka
"What the deuce have you bit mto7"
cried the depot master as the Five
Nine swept splendidly up and stopped
with her battered eye hard on the
depot clock.
"Mattaback bridge Is burned. Had
TO crawl over on the stringers," an
swered Sinclair, coughing up Gin
der.
'Where's McWilliams?'
Back there sitting ON his grief,
reckon ..."
While the crew went up to register
two big four horse trucks backed up to
the baggage car, and In minute a
dozen men were rolling specie kegs
out Of the door, which was smashed
In, as being quicker than to tear open
the barricades.
Sinclair, MacElroy and Francis with
his brakeman were surrounded by q
crowd Of railroad men. As they stood
answering questions a big prosperous
looking banker with black rings under
his eyes pushed in toward them, &C.
companied by the lame fellow, who
had missed the chance Of a lifetime to
die rich, and by Ferguson, who had
told the story.
The banker shook hands with each
one Of the crew. you've saved us,
boys. We needed it. There's a mob
Of 5000 Of the worst scared people in
America clamoring at the doors, and,
by the eternal now we're fixed for
every one of them. Come up to the
bank. T want you to ride right up with
the coin, all Of you"
| It was an uncommonly queer occa-
sion, but an uncommonly enthusiastic
one. Fifty policemen made the escort
and cleared the way for the trucks to
| pull up across the sidewalk so the por-
tiers could lug the kegs of gold into the
bank before the very eyes Of the rat
tied depositors.
| In an hour the run was broken. But
when the four railroad men left the
bank after all sorts Of hugging by ex-
cited directors they carried not only
the blessings of the officials, but each
In his vest pocket a check, every one
Of which discounted the biggest vouch-
er ever drawn on the West End for a
months pay, though I violate no con-
fidence in stating that George Sin
clair's was bigger than any two Of the
others. And this Is how it happens
that there hangs in the directors room
OF the Sierra Leone National a very
creditable portrait Of the kid engineer.
Besides paying tariff on the specie,
the bank paid for a new coat of paint
for the McWilliams Special from ca
boose to pilot. She was the last train
across the Mattaback for two weeks.