St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1921-12-24
THE ST TAMNY FARMER

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| got the deep-wells ready to run ard
freshened up the fires and turned the
steam on. In curious contrast to the
care which had been taken to provide
discharge outlet for the centrifugals,
the Cornish pumps had merely an iron
trough which ran to a ditch leading
down to the bench below the mine
buildings. After few minutes Of the
clanking and banging, the water began
to come. 1t was horribly smelling
stuff, thick and discolored: evidences
sufficient that it was coming from the
bottom of the mine. The two pumps
together were lifting about an eight
inch stream, and it occurred to me at
once that If / could set the centrifu-
gals going at the same time, the mass
attack might accomplish what the
piece-meal assault couldn't.
Throwing in the clutch that drove
the big rotaries, ran up against what
Daddy would have called "circum-
stance There wasn't power enough
to drive both sets of pumps coupled
AZ Iok,<eAASA e. 'Nt@ol, hoI Will lliC
steam pressure the boilers We're car
rying. Thinking to get more power by
pushing the fires bit harder, l went
to the detached boiler room to stoke
up, leaving the deep wells changing
away in the shafthouse. / had fired
two of the furnaces and was at work
on the third when a series of grind
ing crashes in the machinery sent me
flying to find out what was going
wrong.
What was happening-whath had al
ready happened-was a plenty. AS
have said, the great Cornish water
lifters were driven through train
of gearing. When / reached the scene,
the steam engine was still running
smoothly, but the pumps had stopped.
The reason didn't have to be looked
for with microscope. The gear-train
was a wreck, with one of the wheels
smashed into bits, and half of the
cogs stripped from it's mesh-mate, If
that's what you'd call it.
Mechanically / stopped the engine
and went to view the remains. The
deep-Wells were done for-there was
no question about that; they'd never
run again until new set of gears
should be installed That much deter
mined, / began to look for the cause
of the calamity. Naturally, supposed
that cracked cog in one of the
wheels had given way, and with this
for starter, the general smash would
follow as a matter Of course. But
a careful and even painful scrutiny of
the wrtckage failed to reveal the cog
Hith tbs ancient fracture. Each break
was new and fresh and clean; there
wasn't sign of an old flaw in any
one Of them II
I think 1 must have knelt there
under the gear train for half-hour or
more, handling the fragments Of iron
and fitting them together. 1t was like
child's broken-block puzzle, and at
ter time I was able to lay all the
larger bits out upon the floor in their
proper relation to one another. 1t was
in the ground-up debris remaining that
I found something which suddenly
made me see red. Battered into shape
lessness, but still clearly recognizable,
were the crushed disjecta membra OF
our twelve-inch monkey-wrench!
tried not to go off the handle in
fit Of mad rage. With sort of forced
calm considered every beam and pro-
jecting timber where I might incau-
tiously have left the wrench, and from
which it might have Jared off to fall
into the gears. There was no such
chance. had used the wrench in re-
assembling the machinery, but now
that I came to recall all the circum-
stances, distinctly remembered hav-
ing put it, together with the other
tools, on the little work bench back
Of the engine. The alternative con-
cllsion was, therefore, fairly newt
able. While was firing the furnaces,
somebody-and doubtless somebody
who had been watching for the oppOr-
tunity-had taken advantage of the
moment when my back was turned and
had thrown the wrench into the gears.
It was the final straw. There was
only one person on the iCinnabar res
for wrecking my machinery; and while
I was banking the fires and setting
things in order for the night. | charted
my course, as the navigators say. The
dawn of another day, l told myseir,
would schedule the ultimate limit. I'm
less he should prove to be good bit
quicker with his gun than l was with
my fists, Fullerton was due to get
the matchmaking he seemed to be ach-
ing for; and beyond that he'd quit
the Cinnabar, if I should have to tie
him on his horse and fog the beast
halfway to Atropia.
It was with this most unchrist1an
design seething and boiling in my
brain that I finally went over to the
cabin, let myself In, and climbed
stealthily up the loft ladder to my
blankets, and the next thing I knew,
it was broad daylight, the sun was
shining in at the little window over
the head of my bunk, and from the
kitchen at the rear a juicy and most
appetizing odor of frying ham was
waiting itself up through the cracks
In the unchinked walls Of my cubicle.
CHAPTER XII.
An Arctic Bath.