The Oakley herald. [volume] (Oakley, Idaho) 1908-1961, 1915-01-22
WHAT SWANSON DID
BY J. r. STAFFORD.
fCopyright)

uOuse on the section DOSseu Dy vi
McQuirk" after he had used a spike
maui handle with telling effect on tn
heads and bodies of the Ave Italian
who. with him and with McQuirk
made up the section-gang. And Nc
Quirk, who knew he would miss thi
solemn-eyed and big-shouldered you'll
from the Northland, and who loved
him, too, for all he had half killed the
gang, dismissed him sadly with few
well-chosen words:
Amy mon, Swanson, that has thai
small an intillict that he caan take
the shirt aft is back widout havin
to onbuttcn the collar av ii Is a bad
mon to be runnin' amuck wild the
handle of a maui. An I'm sorry to
lose the like av yez, Swanson, but,
faith, an yez don't mix wild dagoes,
an dagoes is aal there is in this
domned country, so yez betther go
aft, Swanson, an cultivate that same
intillict, an whin yez think yez caan
come back an bay a paceable mon,
thin Oi'll give yez a tip where yez
caan git yez job.
,"But It won't be here, Swanson
It'll be over the Rio Grande, whin me
frind Porferyo Dyaz, the prisidint of
Mexico, is nadin' new spacies of
polissmen. Yez haad betther clear
out, now, Swanson, for OF May not
hear from the prisidint for some
tonne"
And Swanson, who did not under
stand exactly what McQuirk was
driving at, did know for a certainty
that he was fired, and that there was
no help for it, and that there would be
no use of his hanging around in the
hope of getting taken back again,
went into the bunk-house and crammed
his few belongings into the little gray
cloth bag that he had brought from
Sweden with him.
Also, he got the few dollars coming
to him for the time since last payday,
and bidding the section-boss' wife
good-by, while great tears stood in
his eyes, trudged away up the track,
bent on reaching the siding IA miles
up the grade, from which the Red
Horse mine got its supplies of grub
and powder.
Up there Swanson reasoned that he
might find work, for he had been in
the mines back in the old country, and
would be miner yet only that he had
grown afraid of dynamite after the
missed hole went off and killed his
brother at his side.
1t was noon when he reached the
Red Horse. Through friendly fellow
countryman who was on the night
shift he learned that there was no
work to be had every place was full,
and the mine would not run much
longer unless powder came. Swanson
shivered at the mention of the stuff.
They talked of the Northland-the
home country-and the heart of
Swanson melted within him and home
sickness so filled him that tears came
into his eyes and sobs gripped him
by the throat.
After the pang of inconsistencies had
left him he still sat there For in a
little time, now, the east-bound
freight would be along, and perhaps
he would see the good-natured brake
man who always threw coal at him
playfully as the train passed the sec
Lion-gang.
After the freight had passed it
would only be little while until the
express, drawn by two
powerful locomotives, would come
up the heavy grade,
IN due time the freight announced
Itself and came dragging up the steep
ascent. There were no ore-cars in
he train, and Swanson wondered why
t was that brakeman got off the end
and ran forward to open the switch
ahead of the engine. This soon be-
came apparent to him. For as soon
rs the switch was opened there came
he pop of an airpipe uncoupled and
he kissing of air and grinding of
brakes.
Then the engine ran in on the
switch, dragging eight cars. Half
way up the siding they stopped. The
brakeman ran past him and checked
he trucks of the last car with bowl
iers, and then, climbing up, set the
After that there were
more sounds of uncoupling, and then
he engine pulled out, leaving the last
car. The brakeman threw over the
switch and locked it. 1t was Swan
sons brakeman, but he was in such
a hurry that he paid no attention to
he Swede.
Swanson suddenly heard the sound
Of iron striking iron, like the ring of
A spike-maul when it misses the
spike and hits the rail. He turned
around, and there within ten feet of
him, right by the switch, with the
broken lock-plate twisted around, and
with driller's sledge in his left hand,
a squat and evil-loolling Italian slow
Iy urged open the switch with his
right hand.
Swanson's slow wits gathered them
selves as he got to his feet. He
dashed at the fellow, but was met by