Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1909-08-11
CHAPTER I.
The Wrecking Boss.

News of the wreck at Smoky Creek
reached Medicine Bend from Point Of
Rocks at five o'clock. Sinclair, in per
son, was overseeing the making up of
his wrecking train, and the yard, usu-
ally quiet at that hour of the morning
was alive with the hurry of men and
engines. In the trainmaster's room of
the weather-beaten headquarters build
ing nicknamed by railroad men "The
Wickiup," early cOmers-sleepy-fa
keen-eyed trainmen-lounged on the
tables and in chairs discussing the re-
ports from Point of Rocks, and among
moved in and out. Two minutes after
they had their orders and were pulling
out of the upper yard, with right of
way over everything to Point of
Rocks.
The wreck had occurred just west
of the creek. A fast east-bound freight
train, dOuble-headed, had left the
track on the long curve around the
hill, and when the wrecling train
backed through Ten Shed cut the sun
streamed over the heaps of damned
and twisted cars strung all the way
from the point of the curve to the foot
of Smoky hill. The crew of the train
that lay in the ditch walked slowly
up the track to where the wreckers
had pulled up, and the freight conduc-
tor asked for Sinclair. Men rigging
the derrick pointed to the hind car.
The conductor, swinging up the ca
bose steps, made his way inside
among the men that were passing out
tools. The air within was blush
thick with tobacco smoke, but
through the haze the freightman saw
facing him, in the far corner of the
den-like interior, a man seated behind
an old dining-car table, finishing his
breakfast; one glimpse was enough to
identify the dark beard Of Sinclair,
foreman of the bridges and boss of the
wrecking gang.
Beside him stood a steaming coffee
tank, and in his right hand he held an
enormous tin cup that he was about to
raise to his mouth when he saw the
freight conductor. With a laugh, Sin
clair threw up his left hand and beck
oned him over. Then he shook his
hair just little, tossed back his head,
opened an unusual mouth, drained the
cup at gulp, and cursing the freight
man fraternally, exclaimed: How
many cars have you ditched this
Uime?"
The trainman, a sober-faced fellow,
answered, dryly: "All | had"
Running too fast, eh?" glared Sim
clair.
With the box cars piled 40 feet high
on the track, the conductor was too
old a hand to begin a controversy.
'''our times fast" was all he said.
Sinclair rose and exclaimed: Come
ont" And the two, leaving the car,
started up the track. The wrecking
boss paid no attention to his COM
panion as they forged ahead, but
where the train had hit the curve he
scanned the track as he would a blue
print. They'll have your scalp for
this" he declared, abruptly.
81 reckon they will"
What's your name?"
Stevens"
Looks like all day for you, doesn't
It? No matter; guess can help you
out"
Where the merchandise cars lay,
below the switch, the train crew knew
that a tramp had been caught. At
intervals they heard groans under the
wreckage, which was piled high there.
Sinclair stopped at the derrick, and
the freight conductor went on to
where his brakeman had enlisted two
of Sinclair's giants to help get out the
tramp. A brake beam had crushed the
mans legs, and the pallor of his face
showed that he was hurt internally,
but he was conscious and moaned soft
Iy. The men had started to carry him
to the way car when Sinclair came
up, asked what they were doing, and
ordered them back to the wreck. They
hastily laid the tramp down. But he
wants water" protested a brakeman
who was walking behind, carrying his
arm in a sling.
Water" bawled Sinclair. Have
my men got nothing to do but carry
a tramp to water? Get ahead there
and help unload those refrigerators.
He'll find water fast enough. Let the
damned hobo crawl down to the creek
after it,
The tramp was too far gone for re-
sentiment; he had tainted when they
laid him down, and his haIfglazed
eyes. staring at the sky, gave no evil
tdence that he heard anything.
The sun rose hot, for in the Red
desert sky there is rarely a cloud.
Sinclair took the little hill nearest
the switch to below his orders from,
running down among the men when
ever necessary to help carry them out.
Within 80 minutes, though apparently
no impression had been made on the
great heaps of wrenched and splin-
tered equipment, Sinclair had the job
in hand.