Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1908-11-12
CHAPTER

Engine Number 206. narrow gauge.
was pushing, or rather failing to push,
the oldfashioned box-plow through
the crusted drifts on the uptilted
shoulder Of Plug Mountain, at altitude
ten thousand feet, with the mercury at
twelve below zero. There was wind
the winter day above timber-line
without wind is as rare as a thawing
Christmas-and it cut like knives
through any garmenting lighter than
fur or leather. The cab of the 206 was
old and weather-shaken, and Ford
pulled the collar of his, buffalo coat
about his ears when the grunting of
the exhaus. and the shrilling of the
wheels on the snow-shod rails stopped
abruptly.
.'Gar-r-r!' snarled Gallagher, the
red-headed Irish engineer, shutting off
the steam in impotent rage. The
power is not in this dommed ould
camp-k ittle SEWN machine. 'Tis
heavens pity they wouldn't be givin'
lis wan VANISHED fightin' lokimotive
on this ind OF the line, Misther Foord. :"
Ford, superintendent and general
autocrat of the Plug Mountain branch
of the Pacific Southwestern, climbed
down, from his cramped seat on the
fireman's box and stood scowling at
the retracting index of the steam
gauge. When he was on his feet beside
the little Irishman. you saw that he
was a young man, well-built, square
shouldered and athletic under the muf-
fling Of the shapeless fur greatcoat;
also, that in spite of the scowl, his
clean-shaven face was strong and
manly and good to look upon.
Power" he retorted. That's only
one of the hundred things they don't
give us, Mike. Look at that steam
gauge freezing right where she
stands!"
IT'S so" assented Gallagher
Shed be dead and shift in tin min
utes be the clock if we'd lave her be
in this drift"
Ford motioned the engineer aside
and took the throttle himself. 1t was
the third day out from Cherubusco,
the station at the foot of the noun
tain; and in the eight and forty hours
the engine, plow and crew of twenty
shovelers had, by labor of the cruelest,
opened eleven of the thirteen blockad.
ed miles isolating Saints Rest. the
basin at the head of the pass.
The throttle opened with a jerk I'M
der the superintendent hand. There
was snow-choked drumming of the
exhaust, and the driving wheels spun
wildly in the furry beneath But there
was no inch of forward motion, and
Ford gave Ii up
Were against it, he admitted.
Do IL !, !
shovelers at it again while you're
nursing her UP and getting more
steam. We're going to make it to
Saints Resi- today if the Two-six has
to go in on three legs"
Gallagher pulled the reversing lever
into the back gear and sent the falling
steam whistling into the chilled cylin-
ders with cautious little jerks at the
throttle. The box-plow came out of the
clutch of lis snow wise with shrillings
as Of a soul in torment, and the buck
ing outfit screeched coldly down over
the snowy rails to the 'let-up" where
the shovelers' box-car had been I'M
coupled.
Ford swung off to turn out the SHOW
cling squad; and presently the labor.
ers muffled to the eyes, were filing
past the 2U6 TO break a path for the
plow. Gallagher was on the running
board with his flare torch, thawing out
an injector. He marked the cheerful
swing Of the men and gave credit
where 1t was due.
"'Tis a full-grown man, that he
commented, meaning Ford. "Manny's
the wan would be huggin' the warm
boiler-head these times. and shtickin
his head out of the windy TO boiler
'G'wan, boys; pitch it out lively now
and be dommed to yez," But Misthel