The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1910-08-09

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Jerry Shackleford, head smelter of
the Cherry Valley rolling mills, Bit
terly hated Donald Armitage, the new
superintendent. who, being ambitious
ly progressive, was rapidly changing
many methods in the plant
This alone was enough to bring
him into disfavor with the man who
looked upon the position made vacant
by the death of the former manager
as his by right of succession. There
fore, when the senior member of the
firm had installed young Armitage as
the working head of the business
Shackleford had taken it as a person
al affront and had vowed vengeance
against the keen-eyed, alert young
ster." And each new piece of ma
chinery introduced and each old-time
way of doing the work that was abol-
ished added fresh fuel to the hatred
consuming him.
Afraid, however, of losing his po-
sition by open rebellion he had so far
shown his ill-will only by sly acts of
neglect in his work These, Arm
itage had seen, but passed unnoticed,
till one day, his patience exhausted,
he had sharply reprimanded the man
for wasting ore, and had been startled
at the swift change that came over
the heat-hardened face-at the angry
light that narrowed his eyes as he
threw out sullen:
I've tended this blast furnace for
a good many years now, and this is
the first time I've ever been told that
didn't know my business. But if
you know so much more'n do about
smelling ironstone why, then"
He stopped, the insolent sheer pur-
posely unfinished.
The managers steely eyes held his
for moment, then he said:
That will do, Shackleford, well
discuss this later. There's another
matter just now. leave on the A
O'Clock express for months business
trip, and before I go want look at
the overflow pipe in the hill tunnel.
Kelly tells me the water is seeping
through. Meet me there at o'clock
sharp"
He turned, swinging with long
strides through the slag-strewn yard.
Wrathfully Shackleford watched
him out of sight, then leaving his as
sistant in charge he took his dinner
pail and plodded up the hill, his head
lowered and his eyes blurred by the
waves of anger surging through his
brain at the thought that he. the most
experienced smelter in the whole
county, must obey mere boy. If
only the months trip would last for
ever, or, better still, If something
would happen to the fellow!
A sudden thought quickened his
breath, blanching his face under the
dusky red He ran the rest of the
way to the tunnel and excitedly UNI
locked the oak door guarding it's en-
trance. The wind drew through the
opening in wailing moan, and the
outward rush of foul dampness
turned him sick. Shivering he threw
himself on the ground, giving free
play to his revengeful thoughts, his
dinner forgotten. An hour passed.
Then quick, decisive steps recalled
him to the task before him. He
sprang up, awaiting orders.
The manager examined tunnel,
pipes and the dam above, and despite
his hatred the watcher had to admire
his workmanlike insight into the
trouble. He pointed out the weak
places and sent Shackleford back to
the mill on the run for certain tools.
When he returned Armitage was in
side the tunnel And then before he
fairly realized it Jerry Shackleford
had slammed the heavy door to and
was tearing at the gate of the dam
above like madman. He shouted
when he heard the rushing water. 1t
would rise in the tunnel faster than
the pipe could carry it off and Donald
Armitage would never return from
that business tripl
He mouthed, gibbering horribly at
the pounding and calls of the man he
had consigned to a frightful death.
He raced down the hill, mad with the
inhuman joy of revenge. Once he
imagined he heard the voice of his
boy, little "Peterkin," calling him,
and he stopped, his heart beating a
frightened tattoo, then laughed shril-
ly, remembering that the boy was
going with his mother to Cedarville,
the home of RacheIs parents, and
that by now they must be miles away
from Cherry Valley.
His head was whirIing from the
Insane frenzy that obsessed him.
Suddenly something seemed to
snap in his head He lurched. partly
regained his balance. lurched again
and fell in crumpIed heap.
When he finally struggled back to
a dazed Consciousness of his own ex-
istence he was in bed at home.
Rachel sat beside him, her tears fall
ing on his work-roughened hands.
But why she was still home, or how
he got there, he was powerless to
ask. His wife answered his look Of
agonized entreaty between her sobs.
Don't try to talk, dear. We
missed the train, because Peterkin
ran away to the hill to find you. and,
not seeing you, went into the tunnel
And, Jerry, Jerry-if 1t hadn't
been that Mr.. Armitage was still in
there our baby wouldhave been killed
in that horrible place, for the wind
slammed fhn DIOR shiIf the dam gave