The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1915-01-21
At LANTANA station
BY A. WEINSTOCk.
tCopyright.)

vigorous roar to the chief dispatcher
for relief. The solitude and isolation
were maxi him nervous wreck, he
complained; and If relief were not
forthcoming mighty quickly, they
would have to remove him from the
station in a strait-jacket. The chief
dispatcher treated the matter face
tiously, but promised Ferguson a more
congenial assignment as soon as a
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 saDk away into the
haze and were lost to sight in the low.
err world. Ferguson was not esthetic,
and to him Lantana was desolation,
loneliness, 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 a 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.
Fergusons social instinct was high
ly developed, He lived for and in COM
partnership. 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 As years Of his
life he had served them faithfully.
Then the fate which overtakes SO
many telegrapbers 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
muscles of the fingers and wris. had
become parslyZed. He lost his grip,
and the telegraph company dispensed
with his services.
Starvation in New York, or job
at Lantana Which should 1t be? He
had chosen Lantana. And now this
product of the complex life, this hot.
house plant whose tibers and teDdrils
were intertwined among the sutging
hordes Of humanity in a great city, was
transplanted to harsh and primitive
SOIL and was suffering whitening
blight In consequence.
Ferguson vainly regretted his choice.
been the very apex of delight In con.
trast to the oppressive silence, the
yastness and the emptiness Of Lam
tana.
Ferguson prepared his own meals,
the one Indispensable utensl being q
can-opener; he cleaned the dishes and
dried them in the sun, washed his
own clothes, mended socks, smoothed
the blankets on his bed, and swept the
floor. Then, in wild passion, he re-
VOTED at the backing of his own boots,
and calling up the chief dispatcher, de-
manded immediate relief.
Ferguson insists upon being re.
lieyed," reported the chief dispatcher
to Division Superintendent jenkins.
lie nags at me from early morning
until late at night suggest sending
him relief, if"
Do you think Ferguson will desert
his post?" interrupted the superin-
tendent
"Oh, no. said the chief dispatcher.
He's too old hand at the business
to play trick like that. He will stay
until he's relieved. no matter how
much he disIkes I.antana"
Well" growled the superintendent,
we can't relieve him just now"
On the International, Shoshone &
Gulf, between Rawdon and Lantana,
! and about quarter of mile from
| the latter place, was sharp curve in
the road al a point which an enthusi-
astc tourist, inspired by the beauty
OF the view, had named Gabriels Bal
| cony. The rough and unfeelng train
men on the mountain division ridiculed
the melliluous title--and accepted It.
On the left of the track beetling
cliffs arose abruptly On the right.
] and only few yards frcm the rails,
L..