Arizona republican., 1912-05-14
Crazy River
 Bridge
By ARTHUR K. AYERS

(CsNtin4sd Jvsvs ytst<ydA,)
 Back and forth he wrested for lit tle space and then he mounted the stairs. Of railroad stock for two gen erations was the woman who met him at their head Bred in her was all the i quiet heroism of the women whose men are the servants of the Traffic. | She knew something of the havoc be | ing wrought, and in his grave eyes she read ne answer to the question in her | owD
 Tell tie despatcher's office every 1 hour how he is" he said, and they 1 will let me know. If the worst should | come I can gat back in an hour or two. | Goodbye little girl" And in a great | rush of tenderness he bent over her
 To the very fullest she understood For one passionate moment she clung 10 him, then she looked up into his fine s,rong face. I'm proud of you my own big man" she said softly. Now go. Laddie and I will come through beautifully" Then she Helped hiua into his great rubber coat laG he was out in the night.
 Limbs torn from trees by the gale impeded his progress; street-lamps were out. their wires down in the gen eral wreckage Climbing over ob- stacles, bending his head against the driving rain, stumbling and groping in the darkness. he reached the station. Here the big passenger engine that he had asked Bancroft for was waiting | 10 take him to the bridge
 Praise the Virgin. the winds be- hind us on this run" said the wiry little engineer Oliver Mccullough. as they sped out through the great yard | that covered dripping and almost de- serted in the storm The headlight | only sent it's ray half the usual dis 1 tance into the wind-rdden deluge l ahead and the soaking road-bed was l none too good; but it was race be- 1 tween Shelburn and the flood and the stake was great. Oliver took chances l he never took before He prayed to l the saints that Vins0n. in the des l patcher's chair. had a wire with which to clear the way for him and strove l intently to see further into the lumi- l nous wall of gray that steadily re- treated before him. For the rest he could only trust blindly to the stand ing luck of an Irishman." Ninety | minutes the three men in the cab rode through the storm with death never far away. but the wires and the | luck and the rails held. and as they ! rounded a curve the first signs of the 1 struggle lay before them.
 For a long distance back from the bridge the tracks were congested with stalled trains. while on the sidings of the little storage yard their engines had been pressed into service to han dle material cars. Atlantics, Pacifics, moguls, consolidateds, and a little four wheeler from local, worked impar
 tially at their lowly task.
 Carried along almost without effort by the gale at his back, Shelburn
 walked rapidly past a freight train, l juC0 JUc lOCdi pdoScISCi, aAOAAACt
 freight, a train of frightened bawling
 cattle, and long string of sober-hued
 Pullmans. Just back of these last was
 the private car of great singer Art
 ists, passengers, brutes, and freight
 awaited alike the mad will of the river
 that would not let them across. AS
 Shelburn hurried down the tracks he
 caught above the roar of the gale and
 the angry waters the wonderful voice
 of the singer in her car. Something
 of the spirit of the night was in her
 soul as she sang. Die Walkure' on
 he river-bank in the storm where men
 and Nature fought in primeval rage
 for the possession of bridge The
 engineers head went up as though he
 heard a call to battle and, half believ
 ing, his eyes swept the inl1y clouds
 for sight of the Valkyries riding in
 thunder.
 In sheltered spots ahead fires . gleamed where kettles of coffee for the
 workers were kept boiling. Swirlins { smoke rom tu0 6nSlneS uIOFt hoA | ] zontaIly from their stack through tht deluge Men hurried to and fro l breathless, tense-faced, mud-spattereC ! from head to foot, their eyes red iron ! loss of sleep and burning with tho ] light of conflict. Lanterns flashed wetly here and there Shouts, th { creaking of cars, the puffing and whis l ting of the locomotives, arose only t' be snatched aloft by the wind and b. blended in the mad tumult all about 1 Beyond, lit by the lightning and tn S headlights on the engines, were tn vast dim lines of the bridge and th
 wild, tumbling, foaming, waters O
 the Crazy: over all the flying cloud IS and the writhing blur of wind an
 rain
 At the little telegraph shanty nea il he bank Shelburn paused long enougl d for the news from home and to leav le instructions as to finding him. Tn s boy was still holding his own. A
 he turned tO leave he came face |