Voice of action. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1933-1936, 1934-11-09

recorded below took place, q
party OF tourists dropped In at
Eli Baines.' A thick carpet OF
dust covered the road leading TO
and from Cyclone City. Except
ing statesmen. and maybe tramp
farm hand, scarcely anyone ever
visited the tOwn-seldOm tour
lists.
A branch line cut in between
Els house at one corner OF Cy-
clone City and a dozen other
warped and withereG frame
buildings and dwellings. A little
farther on a platform and a yell
low shack. The freight stopped
there and also the local passen-
ger.
If the station had not been
brightly colored II is probable
that more than once an engineer
would have drowsily rolled by
without noticing the settlement.
1t was rooted in an ocean OF
wheat; it was aged and dry, sleep
ing among the tall straws that
stood erect gazing inquiringly at
the thing that hypnotized them,
the sun.
The automobile sank in dust
filled ruts; it hoped along like
a mammoth, flOur-covered toad.
When it stopped Eli noted the
California license. The kids in the
back looked suppressed, suffo-
Gated; the woman and the man
thirsty and worried.
From behind smoked glasses,
the mans face smiled. As dry as
the miles around voice spoke to
Eli, sprawled on a hammock in
the breathless shade of his front
porch. 81 noticed your sign. Are
your home cooked meals cool?
Got plenty water?"
II calc'late can fill your family
and the ear up with enough SOS
you can't drain it out for number
of miles," He laughed at his
greeting which he always gave on
hot days to tourists. Moneys
scareer'n water with me-"
do you think there might be
a cyclone? The heat is powerful.
Feels as II something must hap
pen"
Eli. opening the screen door,
hesltated. "Ain't hardly never
been a cyclone around here. One
whipped by between here and
Hartville about eight years ago.
There was somethin' wOrse'n a
cyclone Saturday. This part of the
country will never forget it. A
niger sure stirred somethin' up.
| been calc'latin' and calc'latin'
and hain't figgered it yet"
II
When Toby Benson reached for
stretching arms that wanted to
help him into the box ear, he felt
that those hands were assisting
him in the first major movement
of new life. Little sixteen-year-
old Toby had rolled his head with
the erinkly haired top. glistening
black skin, and spacious, protub-
Grant white eyes. That was when
for the last time he looked at
the Perkins house where he had
lived for three years. Old Mr.. Per-
kins and Mrs. Perkins couldn't
keep chore boy any longer. They
could barely insure an immediate
prolonging of their own aging
lives.
So Toby took three great big
slices of Mrs. Perkins made bread
and in his coat and overalls peck
cts stuffed siekly, deeaying ,ap-
Piles. The Perkins farm was in the
same ocean of wheat as Cyclone
City-maybe a horizon and a half
away. Toby took the branch line
that led to where he could get
main line.
About thirty white fellows lay
on the box cars splintery floor.
A few sat In the doors opening
with Toby, legs cutting the i'm
movable air along the tracks. The
few whining ears and the engine
that elattered through the wheat
fields, Toby, and the whites were
some of the forces that were
gathering to converge on Cyclone
City. Come together with a clap
and bang, and be gone, leaving
Eli Baines "Calclatin' and calc'-
The same morning another
force was being set in motion. At |
a division point where the branch |
line met a main line a large Ne
gro was cooking his breakfast. |
He had been given a can OF water
by kindly white man at whose
door he lad knocked. Now close
by the lailroad track near the
yard limit he watched his cot.
fee water heating. Two eggs al
ready Loiled and kept warm by
the sun lay in the burnt grass.
The Negro's muscles could lie |
seen uiieer his torn shirt and on |
his baled arms, fitting to and
fro as the suns RAYS frolicked |
with them. The railr nd bull, sew
.,ral long puzzles of corn Ticker
under his belt, bragg ii his lazy
figure toBard the blIcl. inan.
This is railroad p. ,relsy. fell