Baxter Springs news. [volume] (Baxter Springs, Kan.) 1882-1919, 1915-03-18
At LANTANA STATION
BY A. wEINsTocK.
lCopyrIRht.l

L
Ferguson had been at Lantana lesI
than q week when he made his first
vigorous roar to the chief dispatcher
for relief. The solitude and isolation
were making him nervous wreck, he
complained; and II relief we're moi
forthcoming mighty quickly, they
would have to remove him from the
station in q strait-jacket The chief
dispatcher treated the matter face
tiously, but promised Ferguson more
congenial assignment as soon as Q
vacancy occurred.
Lantana, on the international, Sho-
shone & Gulf railroad, was box-car
station perched among the clouds Of
the Declez range. To the esthetic
the view from Lantana was soul-satis-
flying. Snow peaks were transformed
by the alchemy Of the morning sun
into an effulgent glare of towers and
minarets, and leagues upon leagues
Of steep deClivity merged into fir-cov.
cred slopes that sank away into the
haze and were lost to sight in the low.
er world. Ferguson was not esthetic,
and to him Lantana was desolation,
loneliness, q foretaste Of perdition and
the place that God forgot.
Ferguson was the product Of a me-
tropolis. For him all that was great
and good and beautiful In the universe
all that he thought worth striving
for-was to be found In New York.
The raging medley Of incessant
sound that assailed the senses Of an
outlander In o great city was sweetest
music in his ears, and the bewildering
kaleidoscope of motion In the busy
streets was as the painters master
piece to him. He longed for 1t with
an aching heart, and his brain rebelled
at the magnificent distances Of the
Declez range.
Ferguson's social instinct was high.
ly developed. He lived for and In COM
panionship. In his happier days his
friends had dined with him, and his
cronies had smoked his cigars. There
was no wife or babies, and the affec-
ton men usually bestow on their fam
lilies Ferguson showered upon his
friends.
But at Lantana Ferguson had no
friends. There were no restaurants,
no saloons, no hotels, no theaters.
There was nothing; only box car, in
one corner Of which he slept; in anoth-
er was the sheet-iron stove on which
he cooked his meals, and In the center
Of the car was table to which was at
tached the telegraph equipment Over
all was spread thick layer Of dust,
and suspended from the ceiling were
weird festoons Of cobwebs.
With picturesque and fluent profan.
ity Ferguson cursed his environment
With added fervor he cursed the cir
cumstances that had driven him to
Lantana. And finally, with vigor that
Jared his box-car home, he cursed the
telegraph company, which he blamed
for his misfortune.
For one-half Of the IS years of his
life he had served them faithfully.
Then the fate which overtakes 80
many telegraphers befell him. His
fingers lost their cunning, and he could
no longer form the Morse characters
with speed and accuracy.
From continuous use, the delicate
of the fingers and wrist had
become paralyzed. He lost his grip,
and the telegraph company dispensed
with his services.
Starvation In New York, or o job
at Lantana! Which should 1t be? He
had chosen Lantana. And now this
product of the complex life, this hot
house plant whose fibers and tendrlls
were intertwined among the surging
hordes Of humanity in great city, was
to q harsh and primitive
soil, and was suffering whitening
blight in consequence.
Ferguson vainly regretted his choice.
Starvation In New York would have
been the very apex Of delight in con-
trast to the oppressive silence, the
Vastness and the emptiness Of Lam
lana.
Ferguson prepared his own meals,
he one indispensable utensll being .
he cleaned the dishes and
dried them in the sun, washed his
OWN clothes, mended socks, smoothed
he blankets on his bed, and swept the
ioor. Then, in a wild passion, he re-
-olted at the backing Of his own boots,
md calling up the chief dispatcher, de-
handed immediate relief.
ferguson insists upon being re-
ieved," reported the chief dispatcher
o Division Superintendent Jenkins.
He nags at me from early morning
Until late at night. suggest sending
i'm relief, If"
do you think Ferguson will desert
lis post?" interrupted the superin'
endent
"oh, no." said the. chief dispatcher.
He's too old o hand at the business
o play q trick like that He viii stay
Intil he's relieved, no matter how
much he dislikes Lantana"
WELL" growled the superintendent
we can't relieve him Just now"
On the international, Shoshone &
lulf, between Rawdon and Lantana,
nd about a quarter Of q mile from