Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1914-10-22


grande slept uneasily On the porch,
lying down like dogs on empty sugar
sacks that the women might not lack
bedding inside. Even at that they were
better OF. for the house was close and
feverish. with the crying of babies
and the babbIing of dreamers, and
mothers moving to and fro.
It was a hectic night, but Bud slept
it out, and at dawn, after the custom
Of his kind, he arose and stamped on
his boots. The moist GOODNESS Of the
morning brought the odor of wet
greasewood and tropic blossoms to his
nostrils as he stepped out to speak
with the guards, and as he stood there
waiting for the full daylight the mas
ter mechanic joined him.
He was a fullblooded, round-headed
little man with determined views on
life, and he began the day, as-usual.
with his private opinion Of Mexieans,
They were the same uncomplimehtary
remarks to which he had given voice
on the day before, for the rebels had
captured one of his engines and he
knew 1t would come to some harm.
"A fine bunch of hombres, yes,' he
ended, "and may the devil fly away
with them! They took No. 8 at the
summit yesterday and I've been lis
tening ever since. Her pans are all
burned out and we've been feeding
her bran like a COW to keep her from
leaking steam. If some ignorant Mex
gets hold of her you'll hear a big noise
-thatll be the last of No. 9-her
boiler will burst LIKE a wet bag.
IF / was running this road there'd
be no more bran-not since what | saw
over at Ag~uascalientes on the Cen
trail. One of those bum, renegade en-
CINE drivers had burned out No. 743,
but the rebels had ditched four Of our
best and we had to send her out. Day
after day the boys had been feeding
her bran until she smelled like a dis
tillery. The mash was ooZing out Of
her as Ben Tyrrell pulled up to the
station, and a friend of his that had
come down from the north took n
sniff and swung up into the cab.
ben came down at the word he
whispered-for they'd two of 'em
bowed up in the north-and they sent
out another man. Hadn't got up the
hill when the engine exploded and
blew the poor devil to hell asked
Tyrrell what his friend had told him,
but he kept it to himself until he could
get his time. It's the fumes, boy
they blow up like brandy--and old No.
8 Is sour!
She'll likely blow up, too, But how
can we fix her with these ignorant
Mexican mechanics? You should have
been over at Aguas the day they fired
the Americans.
"eNo more Americanos,' says Ma
dero, let 'em all out and hire Mexi,
cans! The national railroads Of Mex
leo must not be in the hands Of for
eigners.'
so they fired us all in a day and
put a Mexican wood-passer up in the
cab Of old No. 313. He started to pub
a string of empties down the track
threw on the air by mistake, and
stopped her on a d~ead-center. Pulled
out the throttle and she wouldn't go,
SO he gave it up and quit.
Called in the master mechanic then
"a Mexican. He tinkered with her
for an hour, right there on the track,
until she went dead on their hands.
Then they ran down a switch engine
and took back the cars and called on
the roadmaster-a Mex. He cracked
the nut--built a shoo-fiy around No.
313 and they left her right there on
the main track. Two days later an
American hobo came by and set down
and laughed at EN-. Then he throws
off the brakes, gives No. S13 a boost
past the center with a crowbar, and
runs her to the roundhouse by gravity.
When we left Aguas on a handcar that
hobo was running the road.
"Ignorantest hombres in the world
these Mexicans. Shooting a gun or
running an engine, it's all the same
they've got nothing above the eye
brows."
THAT'S right" agreed Bud, who had
been craning his neck; "but what's
that noise up the track?"
The master mechanic listened, and
when his ears, dulled by the clangor Of
the shops, caught the distant roar he
turned and ran for the house.
cit up, Ed" he called to the road
master, they're sending a wild car
down the canyon-and she may be
loaded with dynamite!"
Dynamite or not" mumbled the
grizzled roadmaster, as he reused up
from his couch, there's a derailer |
put in up at kilometer seventy the first
thing yesterday morning. Thatll send.
her into the ditchi"
Nevertheless he listened intently,
cooking his head to guess by the
sound when 1t came to kilometer
seventy.
To BE coNT1NUED.)