The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1909-06-04
Was It a Miracle?


stranger, do o DelleVe III mira
clesT' | looked up from my newspaper,
the columns Of which l had been list
lessly scanning and encountered the
gaze of the speaker. l saw before me
a man about 40 years Of age. He had
a bluff, open face and his hair was
streaked with gray. He wore the reg
ulation uniform Of the railway, and l
recognized in him the ticket agent,
telegraph operator, ct cetera. or the
station in which | was waiting for my
train.
| had finished my business In the
town some two miles away, and, as l
had nothing to do until the train ar
rived, | was not at all averSe to hat
ting with him.
THAT depends entirely upon what
you consider a miracle" l replied,
throwing aside my paper.
Il don't know that l can exactly
explain what | mean, but l believe
that the event | am thinking Of might
be called one"
OF course | expressed a desire tC
know what he referred to, imagining
that he had a story to relate to me.
We'll" he remarked by way of an
Introduction, 1T isn't often l tell this
story, but tonight | feel just like it,
Perhaps the fact that the events Oc-
Cured exactly seven years ago may
account for the inclination.
1T was just such a day as this: the
air was cold enough to make a fire
seem comfortable, while at the same
time it was not at all disagreeable out
of doors.
AT that time l was employed at the
same job l am now. There was Of
course less work to do in those days !;
this region has rapidly increased liz
population during the last few years.
But this does not interest you; so
l will fire up and start on my run
with a full head Of steam.
"Six miles west Of here lies the town
Of Bartson; ten miles to the east, Daw-
son. This Is the only station between
the two.
ut vas exactly this time of day,
half past five, when my sounder COM
menced clicking away at my call. For
some reason I did not respond at once
when l did. 1 received the following
startling message:
wild engine headed your way-Old
Tartar. Ditch her.
The message was from the operator
ut Bartson. and in plain English meant
that the engine known as the Old Tar
tar had by some means or other start
ed of without any one on board. and
was headed In this direction. To ditch
an engine Is to open a switch, thus
allowing 1t to run on to q siding where
1t at last leaves the track and prob
ably goes over on its side. OF course
the engine Is badly smashed If not com.
pletely ruined. but 1t is the only a fe
course to adopt.
There was but n siding suitable
for the purpose, the others having more
or less cars on them. The switch was
about a hundred yards down the track
in the direction of Bartson.
ut was evident to me that the Old
Tartar must have passed Bartson when
they commenced calling me, and "a
wild engines generally travel pretty
fast, l foresaw that I had not any too
much time in which to carry out nv
instructions.
Il will mention one more fact. an
accommodation train was due from the
East inside of half an hour.
You may believe 1 did not lose muct
time in leaving the depot and heading
for the switch. l had not taken halt
a dozen steps when l heard a dull roar
of but m%omentary duration. That told
me as well as words could that the Old
Tartar had crossed Mud River bridge
less than quarter of a mile away.
Il can get W. the ground at a fair
rate of speed when necessary, and
considered that one Of the occasions
1 had travelled considerably more than
half of the distance when. glancing up
1 saw the Old Tartar shoot around the
curve at the top of the grade which
ends at this station. 1t was a race
between myself and that engine. with
the switch as the objective point.
apparently / was sure Of winning,
but l realized that l had no time to
spare.
i had nearly reached the switch
Snsn l stumbled and fell. Not more