The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1921-06-02


pense had grown so keen that it
SEEM as II 1t couldn't be borne a
secor d longer, Morris, who was sit
ting IN az the Office phone, called out
sharliy "Long-distance says she has
Grow Gulch lumber campi'
Mr. Van Britt jumped to take the
phone, and we got one side Of the
~talll--onr side-in shot-like sentences:
That you, Bertrand All right; this
Is Van Britt, at Portal City. Take n
OF the mules and ride for your life
down the gulch TO the stationl Get
thati Stop Number Five and make
her take siding quick. Report I'VE
your own wire what you do. Hurryv"
By the time Mr.. Van Britt got back
to the train desk, the boss had his
pencil out and was figuring on Ber-
trans time margin. 1t was now ten
twelve, and Five's time ut Grow Gulch
was te%n-eighteen. The Crow Gulch
operator had just six minutes In which
to get his mule and the rough
mile down the gulch.
There was nothing to do but wait,
and the waiting was savage. Tarbell
had q nerve Of iron, but | could see
Ids hand shake as 1t lay on the glass
topped table. The boss was cool
enough outwardly, but / knew that In
his brain there was a heart-breaking
picture of those two fast passenger
trains rushing together In the night
among the hills with no hint of warn
ing to help them save themselves. Mr..
Van Britt couldn't keep still. He had
his hands jammed in the side pockets
Of his coat and was pacing back and
forth in the little space between the
train desk and the counter railing.
At the different tables In the room
the saunders were clicking away as
If nothing were happening or due to
happen, and above the scattering din
and clatter you could hear the escape
ment Of the big standard-time clock
on the wall, hammering out the sec
onds that might mean life or death
TO two or three hundred innocent peo-
pie.
In horrible suspense the six minutes
Dulltu liltIDStiNtS Oul W all tltTullN
for that little bunch Of us In the dis
p~atcher's Office who could do nothing
but wait. On the stroke of ten-eigh-
teen, the time when Five was due at
Crow Gulch on her schedule, Tarbell
tuned his relay to catch the first faint
thpplngs from the distant day-station.
Another sounder was silent. There
was hope in the delay, and Morris
voiced 1t.
"He's there, and he's too busy to
talk to u.s." he suggested, in a hushed
voice; and Dlsbrow, the car-Iecord
man, added: THAT'S It; it'd take n
minute or two to get them in on the
siding
The second minute passed. and then
n third, and yet there was no word
from Bertram. : "Call him." snapped
the boss to Tarbell, but before the eX-
cowboys hand could reach the key,
the sounder began to rattle out a
string of dots and dashes; ragged
Morse 1t was, but we could all read it
only too plainly.
100 late-mule threw me and i
had to crawl and drag a game leg
Five passed full speed at feminine
teen-I couldn't make It,"
l saw the boss hands shut up as
though the finger nails would cut into
the palms.
"That ends It," he said, with a sort
Of swearing groan in his voice; and
then to Tarbell: "You may as well
call Kirgan and tel! him to order out
the wrecklng train. Then have Per-
kins make up n relief train while
you're calling the doctors. Van Britt,
you so and notify the hospital over
your own Office wire. Have my
pr;,ute car put into the relief, and
see to 1t that it has all the necessary
supplies. And you'd better notify the
u~ndertakers, too"
Great Joash but II was horrible
for us TO be hustling around and max
ing arrangements for the funeral while
the people who were to be gathered
up and buried were still swinging
along live and well, half of them In
the crookings among the Timber Noun
tain foothills and the other half
somewhere in the desert stretches be.
low Sand Creekl
Tarbell had sent Disbrow to the
phone TO call Kirgan, and Mr.. Van
Britt was turning away to so to his
own Office, when the chair In the cor
ner by the car-record table fell over
backwards with a crash and Durgin
came staggering across the room. lie
was staring straight ahead of him as
If he had gone blind, and the sweat
was running down his face to lose it.
self in the struggling beard.
When he spoke his voice seemed
to come from away off. somewhere,
and he was still staring at the blank
wall beyond the counter-railing.
did Ibid ! hear somebody say
you're sending for the undertakersT'
he choked, with a dry rattle in his
throat and then, without waiting for
an answers: "While you're at 1t, you'd
better get one for me , , there's the