Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1919-04-03

company was content with three hun
dred miles an hour-content to run
two daily airships-the mail" and the
Chicago Express"
Side by side stood "Old Black Lulu"
and the Registered Mail" Side by
side stood President Hendricks and
Englneman Simmons. The old engi-
neer was no longer surly, but sad. He
spoke In a voice half choked with
sobs:
your pa wouldn't "a done 1t, Mr..
Hendricks. Your pa was a railroad
man from 'way-back, an he wouldn't
"a done 1t. You a fire me for that
If you like. It's said, an I amt a 60
in to take 1t back"
His intense sadness and resentment
were almost comic. Hendricks
laughed a little and tried to @joIly"
the old engineer, but Simmons was In
no mood for testing.
He turned away, oiled the 144s,
wiped her carefully with a handful of
clean waste and polished her as vigor-
ously and unconcernedly as if the
Registered MaiI' were no more than
a summer shower.
But Hendricks heard him murmur
once or twice: "They don't want us
any more, Lulu They don't want us
any more"
By and by Simmons walked wei to
the airship and examined her careful
ly. mo chance of a breakdown, 1
s'pose?" he queried hopefully.
mo chance whatever" smilingly an
swered the aviator. Simmons looked
about to see If there wa anything
with which he could tamper-a bolt
he could loosen, or a screw he could
remove, but there was nothing. Be
sides, he would have been detected.
Electricity, too" he growled. "Gas-
oline was bad enough, but 'lectricity !"
He turned away, and climbed into
the cab of 144S. He carried baggage
and passenger coaches for the first
time in many years, and a feeling Of
shame stole over him as he gazed at
"Old Black Lulu" and the string of
cars behind her.
1t had all come so "~suddenlike."
Only a few days ago, it seemed, air
ships were only toys at which he had
laughed. Yet one of these toys had
supplanted his "Lulu"-and there she
stood, Haunting her triumph in his
face-the blue-gray hulk three times
as large as the largest car he had
eve hauled and carrying his precious
freight-his express parcels-his reg
istered mail!
"Old Black Lulu's" days of glory
were Overland so were his! Alas,
how bitter!
No. 8 counted off the miles as she
always had. "Old Black Lulu" pulled
and whistled, and clicked and pound
ed over the frogs, just as she always
had-and, by and by, she started to
sing a crazy little song of her own
composing:
They don't-want me-any more"
They don't-want me-any more"
Simmons heard and understodd-
and answered:
you're right, old girl. They don't
want you any more. Lulu to the
scrap-shop, an me to Highland Park
In a short time they passed the
ninetieth mile-post, and Simmons be-
gan to look for the Registered Mail"
Somewhere along the line she would
cross the N.-M.-W. tracks, headed di.
rectly west. She had no signals to
heed, as Lulu had, no curves to take
or hills to climb; she had it so easy
all plain sailing for her.
She would cross the N.-M.-W. tracks
at the bridge, and sail away out of
sight before No. 8 could
"The devil!" The captain, or motor
man, or whatever he called himself,
had told him there was no possible
chance of a breakdown, and yet
The Registered Mail" was wab-
Observation-Disclosures! She was
going to drop! Some one had blum
dered. Simmons was not the man to
let a golden opportunity pass. Not
he! Swiftly he calculated the distance
to the point where the Registered
Mail' would fall, and swiftly he
jerked the throttle open wide. Then
he "hooked her up"-gave her "the
short stroke" and she responded.
"Lulul Lulu'!" he cried. "You
go to it, old grill Work hard now
hard, hard! Lulu. old girl, do your
blamedest! Go to it, Lulup"
The short stroke won the day for
"0ld Black Lulu"
Simmons leaned out of the window
and watched the airship anxiously.
Down-down-down it dropped, and
"Old Black Lulu" plowed into its shiny
body just as it struck the bridge. They
plunged into the river together-the
Registered Mail" and her crew, and
"Old Black Lulu" with part Of her
drag" Simmons still sat on the
leather-cushioned seat, his greasy, sui
len face TRANSPORTED by q triumphant
smile.
"Old Black Lulu" was never sent
to the scrap-shop. She lies there, at
the r~iver-bottom, still '~hooked-up,"
covered with mud and victory. And
Surly Simmons went to Highland
Park, for he lived Just long enough to