Truxton, 5 | 21, 188—."M. N. B. "DS."No. 21 went through Big River bridge to-night; track was soft all the way over from Truxton; engine, mail, baggage and one coach on the bridge when it gave way; three Pullmans stayed on the track. Roberts, engineer; Carter, fireman, and Sampson, conductor, all missing. Need doctors."O'Hara,"Brakeman."
Truxton, 5 | 21, 188—.
"M. N. B. "DS.
"No. 21 went through Big River bridge to-night; track was soft all the way over from Truxton; engine, mail, baggage and one coach on the bridge when it gave way; three Pullmans stayed on the track. Roberts, engineer; Carter, fireman, and Sampson, conductor, all missing. Need doctors.
"O'Hara,"Brakeman."
My God! wasn't it awful! I sent one caller to get out the wrecking crew and another for a doctor. I then instructed Burke to prepare orders for the wrecker, pulling everything off and giving her a clean sweep; told Truxton to keep on his ground wire and stay close; and pulling on my rain coat, I bounded down the steps and up to the roundhouse to hurry up the engine. Engine 122, with Ed Stokes at the throttle, was just backing down as I came out, so I ran back, signed the orders,and as soon as the doctors arrived, Mr. Antwerp told me to pull out and take charge, saying he would come out if necessary on a special.
It was scarcely five minutes from the time I received the first message until we pulled out and started on our wild ride of rescue. Forty miles in forty minutes, with one slow down was our time. The old derrick and wreck outfit swayed to and fro like reeds in the wind, as we went down the track like a thunderbolt, but fortunately we held to the rails. There was scarcely a word spoken in the caboose, every one being intent upon holding on and thinking of the horrible scene we were soon to view. When we reached Truxton we found the track walker there, and after hearing his story in brief, we pulled out for the bridge. Our ride from Truxton over to the wreck was frightful. It was still raining torrents, the wind was coming up again, lightning flashed, thunder rolled and the track was so soft in some places that it seemed as if we would topple over; but we finally reached there—and then what a scene to behold!
The bridge, a long wooden trestle, was completely gone, nothing being left but twisted iron and a few broken stringers hanging in the air. Four mail clerks, the express messenger, and thebaggage man were drowned like rats in a trap. Poor Ben Roberts had hung to his post like the hero, that he was, and was lost. Sampson, the conductor, and Carter, the fireman, were both missing, and in the forward coach, which was not entirely submerged, having fallen on one end of the baggage car, were many passengers, a number of whom were killed, and the rest all more or less injured.
The river was not very wide, and I had the headlight taken off of our engine and placed on the bank; and presently a wrecker came up from the south, and her headlight was similarly placed, casting a ghastly weird, white light over the scene of suffering and desolation. I cut in a wrecking office, Truxton took off his ground, I put on mine, and Mr. Antwerp was soon in possession of all the facts. A little later I was standing up to my knees in mud and water, and I heard a weak voice say: "Mr. Bates, for God's sake let me speak to you a minute."
I looked around and beheld the most woebegone, bedraggled specimen of humanity I had ever seen in my life. "Well, who under the sun are you?" I asked.
"I'm Carter, the fireman of No. 21. When Ifelt the bridge going I jumped. I was half stunned, but managed to keep afloat, being carried rapidly down the stream. I struck the bank about a mile and a half below here, and I've had one almighty big struggle to get back. For the love of the Virgin give me a drink; I'm half dead;" and with that the poor fellow fell over senseless.
I called one of the doctors and had him taken to the caboose of the wrecker, and when I had time I went in and heard the rest of his story. The poor chap was badly hurt, having one ankle broken, besides being bruised up generally. He said when No. 21 left Truxton, Roberts proceeded at a snail-like pace, keeping a sharp lookout for a wash out. He slowed almost to a standstill before going on the bridge, but everything appearing all safe and sound he started again, remarking to Carter, "Here's where I get the bath that Bates spoke about."
"See here, who is going to pull this train?""See here, who is going to pull this train?"
The engine was half way over when there came a deafening roar; the train quivered, and—then Carter jumped. That was all he knew. It was enough, and we sent him back with the rest of the wounded the next morning. He is pulling a passenger train there to-day. The engine was lost in the quicksands, and was never recovered, and Ben Roberts stayed with her to the last. He had more than his bath in Big River that night; he had his funeral; the river was his grave, and the engine his shroud.
CHAPTER XVIIIA PROMOTION BY FAVOR AND ITS RESULTS
I had been on the C. N. & Q. for about eight months, when my second trick man took sick, and being advised to seek a healthier climate, resigned and went south. Generally speaking the chief despatcher's recommendation is enough to place a man in his office; and as I had always believed in the rule of seniority, I wanted to appoint the third trick man to the second trick, make the day copy operator third trick man, and call in a new copy operator to replace the night man who would be promoted to the day job. In fact, I had started the ball rolling toward the accomplishment of this end, when Mr. Antwerp, the division superintendent, defeated all my plans by peremptorily asserting his prerogative and appointing his nephew, John Krantzer, who had been night copy operator to the third trick. I protested with all my might, in fact was once on the point of resigning my position but the old man wouldn't hear of either proposition, and Krantzer secured theplace. Now while Krantzer was an excellent copy operator, he was very young, and lacked that persistence and reliability so essential in a successful despatcher. After I had protested until I was black in the face, I asked Mr. Antwerp at least to put the young man on the second trick, so that in a measure I could have him under my eye. But no, nothing but the third trick would satisfy him, so on the third trick the rattle-brained chap went the next night.
He struggled through the first night without actually killing anybody, but his train sheet the next morning resembled a man with a very bad case of measles; there were delays on everything on the road, with very few satisfactory explanations. There was the fast mail twenty-five minutes in going six miles. Cause? None was given. But a perusal of the order book showed that Krantzer had made a meet for her with a freight train, and had hung her up on a blind siding for fifteen minutes. Freights that had been out all night were still out, tied up in all kinds of shapes. Meets had been made for two long trains at a point where the passing track was not large enough to accommodate either one of them, and the result was thirty minutes lost by both of them in "raw hiding" by. Many other discrepancieswere noticeable, but these sufficed to show that Krantzer's abilities as a despatcher were of a very low order. However, I reflected, that it was his first night, and I remembered my own similar experience not many years ago, so I simply submitted the sheet to Mr. Antwerp without comment. He wiped his glasses, carefully adjusted them on his aristocratic nose, and after glancing at the sheet for a few moments, said, "Ah! humph! Well! Well! Well! Not a very auspicious start, to be sure; but the boy will pick up. Just jack him up in pretty good shape, Bates; it will do him good." I jacked him up all right to the queen's taste but it was like pouring water on a duck's back.
The second night was not much of an improvement, and I made a big kick to Mr. Antwerp the following morning, but it did no good. The third night was a hummer. I was kept at the office pretty late, in fact until after eleven o'clock, and before going home I wrote Krantzer a note telling him to be very careful as there were many trains on the road. Our through business at this time was very heavy, and compelled us to run many extras and specials. I was particular to inform him of two extras north, that would leave Bradford, the lower end of the division, some timeafter 12:30A. M., and directed him to run them as special freights having the right of track over all trains except the passengers. Each train was made up of twenty-five cars of California fruit bound for New York, and they were the first of their kind to be run by us. We had a strong competitor for this class of business in the Valley Route, a line twenty miles away, and were making a big bid for the trade. The general manager had sent a message that a special effort was to be made to put the two trains through a-whooping, and I had ordered engines 228 and 443, two of the best on the road, to pull them. Burke, the second trick man had everything running smoothly at the time I wrote the note, and I told Krantzer that, as it looked then, all he would have to do would be to keep them coming. No. 13, a fast freight south, had an engine that wasn't steaming very well, and I suggested to him to put her on the siding at Manitou. It would delay 13 about fifteen minutes but her freight was all dead stuff, so that would not make much difference. I did everything but write the order, and that I could not do, because I couldn't tell just what the conditions would be when the extras reached Bradford, where they would receive the order.
Krantzer succeeded in getting them started infair shape; but not content to let well enough alone, he thought he would run No. 13 on to Burnsides instead of putting her on the siding at Manitou as I had suggested, and gave orders to that effect. After he had given the "complete" he told the operator to tell them to "fly." If he had given this same order for the meeting at Burnsides to the two extras,at the same time, all would have been well, except that the extras would have been delayed some fifteen minutes, but this he was unable to do. Burnsides itself is only a day office, so he could not communicate with them there, and they had already passed Gloriana, the first night office south of Burnsides. The operator at Gloriana heard the order to 13 and told Krantzer it was a risky thing to do; but he told him "to mind his own business, as he (Krantzer) could run that division without any help."
No. 13 was pulled by engine 67, with Jim Bush at the throttle, and he was such a runner that he had earned the sobriquet of "Lightning Jimmie." While he had reported early in the evening that his engine was not steaming very well, he had succeeded in getting her to working good by this time. Burnsides is at the foot of a long grade from the north, and about a mile up there is a very abrupt curve as the track winds around theside of the hill. The two extras were bowling along merrily when they struck this grade; and although there is a time card rule that says that trains will be kept ten minutes apart, they were right together, helping each other over the grade. In fact, it was one train with two engines, somewhat of a double header with the second engine in the middle. They were going on for all they were worth, expecting to meet No. 13 at Manitou, as originally ordered.
In the meantime, Bush pulling No. 13, had passed Manitou, and with thirty-eight heavy cars behind him, was working her for all she was worth on the down grade, so as to get on the siding for the extras at Burnsides. He was carrying out Krantzer's order to "fly," with a vengeance. And just as he turned the curve, he saw, not fifty yards ahead of him, the headlight of the first extra. To stop was out of the question. He whistled once for brakes, reversed his engine, pulled her wide open and then jumped! He landed safely enough, and beyond a broken right arm, and a badly bruised leg, was unhurt. His poor fireman, though, jumped on the other side and was dashed to pieces on the rocks; and the head man and engineer of the first extra were also killed. I had known many times of two trains being put in the hole;but this was the first time I had ever seen three of them so placed.
Krantzer had sense enough to order out the wrecker, and send for me. I knew just as soon as I heard the caller's rap on my door that he had done something so I lost no time in getting over to the office and there sat Krantzer as cool as if he had not just killed three men by his gross carelessness and cost the company thousands of dollars. I had the old man called and when he came and learned what had occurred, his discomfiture was so great that I felt fully repaid for all my annoyance on his nephew's account. He directed me to go out to the wreck and report to him upon arrival. I had Forbush, the first trick man, called and placed him in charge of the office during my absence. Incidentally, I told Krantzer he had better be scarce when I sent the remains of those crews in, because I fancied they were in a fit mood to kill him. When I returned I found that he had gone. It appeared that Jim Bush went up into the office, and although he had one arm broken, he was prepared to beat the life out of that crazy young despatcher. Forbush saw him coming and gave Krantzer a tip, and as Bush came in one door, Krantzer went out the other.
The effects of this wreck were far beyond calculationto the company because they lost the business they were striving to win, and the way the general manager went for old man Antwerp was enough to make us all grin with delight. It is needless to say I was allowed to place my own men thereafter.
CHAPTER XIXJACKING UP A NEGLIGENT OPERATOR—A CONVICT OPERATOR—DICK, THE PLUCKY CALL BOY
One of the most unpleasant duties I had to perform was that of "jacking up" operators, and punishing them for their short-comings. Generally, if the case was not a very bad one, and the man had a good reputation, I would try and smooth it over with only a reprimand; but there are times "when patience ceases to be a virtue," and punishment must be inflicted. The train sheet is always the first indication that some operator is to be "hauled up on the carpet." One morning I found the following entry on the sheet:—
"No. 16 delayed forty-five minutes at Bentonville, account not being able to raise the operator at Sicklen in that time. Called for explanation and operator said 'he was over at hotel getting some lunch.'"
That excuse "over at hotel getting some lunch," is as familiar to a railroad operator as the creed is to a good churchman. A young man namedCharles Ferral was the night man at Sicklen, and his ability as an operator was only exceeded by his inability to tell the truth when he was in a tight place. I was too old an operator to be fooled by any such a yarn as this; and besides, the conductor of No. 17 reported to me that he had found Ferral stretched out on the table asleep, when he stopped there for water. But he was a first-rate man and I didn't want to lose him, so I wrote him a sharp letter and told him that a repetition of his offense would cause him to receive his time instantly. He was as penitent as the prodigal son, and promised never to so offend again; and he kept his word—for just about ten days.
One morning he asked my permission to come up to "DS" on No. 2 and go back on No. 3 in the afternoon. I gave it, but warned him to not lose too much sleep. There are some men in the business that the sound of their office call on a telegraph instrument will cause to awaken at once no matter how soundly they may be sleeping, but Ferral was not one of these. The night following his return to his station, I was kept at the office until late, and about eleven o'clock No. 22 appeared at Bakersville, and wanted to run to Ashton for No. 17. They were both running a little late, and as 17 had a heavy train of coal and system empties, I told Burke to let them go. But the only station at which we could then get an order to 17 was Sicklen, Ferral's station. Burke began to call, but Sicklen made no answer. He called for forty-five minutes at a stretch, 22 all the time waiting at Bakersville. He stopped for five minutes and then went at it again. In ten minutes Sicklen answered. Burke started to give the order, but Ferral broke and gave the "OS" report that 17 had just gone by.
That settled it; No. 22 was hung up another hour all on account of Ferral's failure to attend to his duty. I opened up on him and said, "Where have you been for the last fifteen minutes?" The same old excuse, "Lunch," came back at me.
"Well, where were you for ten minutes before that?"
Then that dear old stereotyped expression, "Fixing my batteries," followed. But I was only too sure that he had been asleep, and No. 17 going by had awakened him. So I gently remarked that "I was not born yesterday, and said that he would probably have ample time to fix his batteries after this; that, in fact, I thought it would be a good thing for him to take a long course in battery work, and I would assist him all I could—I would provide him with the time for the work."
The next morning I laid the matter before Mr. Antwerp, and he wanted the man discharged forthwith. But during the night my anger had cooled somewhat and now I felt inclined to give him another chance; so I simply urged that he be laid off for a while.
"All right, Bates, but make it a good stiff lay-off—not less than fifteen days," said Mr. Antwerp.
I wrote Ferral accordingly; but I had scarcely finished when a letter came from him to me, begging off, and promising anything if I would not discharge him; but, instead would lay him off forforty-five days. I took him at his word and gave him the forty-five days he asked for, instead of the fifteen I had intended to give him. But, about two weeks later he came up to "DS," and looked so woebegone, and pleaded so hard to be taken back, that I remitted the remainder of his punishment. He was greatly chagrined when he learned that he had trebled his own sentence. He was never remiss again. Go over to the despatcher's office any night and you will see him, bright and alert, sitting opposite the despatcher doing the copying. He is in the direct line of promotion, and some day will be a despatcher himself. I never regretted my leniency.
In addition to the main line, I had a branch of thirty-eight miles, running from Bentonville up to Sandia. The despatching for this branch was done from my office, and when we wanted anyone there Bentonville would cut us through. This was seldom necessary, however, because there were only two trains daily, a combination freight and passenger each way. The last station this side of Sandia was Alexis. The state penitentiary was located there, and the telegraphing was done by a convict "trusty"—a man who, having been appointed cashier of a big freight office in the western part of the state, couldn't stand prosperity, and, in consequence, had been sent up for six years. His conduct had been so good that, after he had served four years inside of the walls, he was made a "trusty." His ability as an operator was extraordinary. He had a smooth easy way of sending that made his sending as plain as a circus bill.
The two branch trains on the branch were known as 61 and 62, and one day 62, running north in the morning, had jumped the track laying herself out about ten hours. When she left Sandia as 61 on her return trip south, she again went off the track and the result was sixteen hours' more delay. We wouldn't send a wrecker up fromthe main line, and they had to work out their own salvation. When they finally appeared at Alexis they were running on the time of 62. That would never do, and the conductor asked the operator at Alexis to get him orders to run to Bentonville regardless of No. 62. Burke, my second trick man, was on duty at the time, and it so chanced that he did not know the Alexis man was a convict. He was about to give the order asked for when something on the main line diverted him for a moment. When he was ready again, Alexis broke him and said, "Wait a minute."
To tell a despatcher to wait a minute when he is sending a train order is to court sudden death, and Burke said, "Wait for what?"
"For whatever you blame please, I'm going out to weigh this coal."
Burke's Irish blood was all up in his head by this time, and he said: "What do you mean by talking that way to me? No. 61 is waiting for this '9'; now you copy and I'll get your time sent you in the morning."
"Oh! will you? I guess my time is all fixed so you can't touch it. I only wish you could; I'd like mighty well to be fired from this job; I wouldn't even wait for my pay."
I had been sitting at my desk taking it all in,and was just about ready to expire with laughter, when Burke called over to me: "Did you hear that young fellow's impudence?"
"Yes, I heard."
"Well, what are you going to do about it? I've never had an operator talk to me like that before. I must certainly insist that you dismiss him at once. He and I can't work on the same road."
"Unfortunately, Burke," said I, "the State has a claim on his services for two years yet, and I am afraid they won't waive it."
At this it dawned upon Burke, who and what the man really was; but I cannot say that his humor was improved at once by the discovery.
One morning shortly after this I was sitting in my office making up an annual train report, and was cussing out anything and everybody, because this train report is one of the worst things in the whole business. It was figures till you couldn't rest, and I had already been working at it for three days, and my head was in a perfect whirl. That morning one of our call boys had turned up missing and that fact also irritated me. It would seem that a call boy was a pretty insignificant chap in a big railroad, but such is not the case. In a perfect system every employee is like a cog in a big wheel, and as soon as one cog is brokenthere is a jar in the otherwise smooth symmetrical movement of the machine. The call boy is quite an important personage, because, upon him depends the prompt calling of the various crews in time to take out their trains. He must keep a keen watch on the call board for the marking up of trains; he must know who is the first to go out, and he must know the dwelling place of every engineer, fireman, conductor and brakeman in the city. On a big division like ours, this, in itself, was not a small job. On some roads men are employed for this work, but I had always been partial to the boys, and kept four of them, two on days and two on nights. When my day boy left, I promoted a night boy to the second day job, and was cudgeling my brain for a good chap to go on nights. In a little while I heard a sharp rap on the office door, and in response to my "come in," uttered in a tone that was anything but pleasant, a sturdy looking little chap about fourteen years old stood before me. He had a shock of jet black hair, tumbled all over his head, a pair of bright eyes, round full face, not over clean, strong limbs and a well knit body. His clothes hung on him like gunny sacks, and the crudity of the many various patches indicated that they had not beenput on by woman's deft fingers. He didn't wait for me to speak, but blurted out:
"Say, mister, I have just heard tell as how you wants a call boy. Do you?"
He took my breath away by his bluntness; he looked so honest and sincere, so I simply replied, "Yes," and waited.
"Well then, I wants the job. See!"
"What's your name, youngster, and where is your home?"
"My name's Dick Durstine; I hain't got no home, no father, no mother, no nothin', just me, and I wants to learn the tick tick business. It looks dead easy."
This was really funny, but I liked his impudence, and, while I had no intention of hiring him, I determined to draw him out, so I said:
"Where were you born, when did you come here, and do you know where any of the crews live?"
"I was born in St. Louis; mother died when I was a kid, and Dad was such a drunken worthless old cuss and beat me so much, that I brought up in a foundling asylum. I come in here riding on the trucks of your mail train about three weeks ago, and the fellers up in the roundhouse have been lettin' me feed and snooze there. I knowwhere all the crews live exceptin' some of your kid glove engineers wot pulls the fast trains, but I can soon find them out. Please give me the job, mister; I'm honest and I'll work hard."
Something in his blunt straightforward way appealed to me and I determined to try him. Handled right I imagined he would be a good man; handled wrong, he would probably become a bright and shining light of thegenushobo. So I hired him, telling him his salary would be forty dollars per month.
"Hully gee!" he exclaimed, "forty plunks a month! Well say! I won't do a ting wid all dat mun; I'll just buy a road. Thank you mister, I'll work so hard for you that you'll not be sorry you gave me the job. But don't you forget that I wants to learn the tick tick business."
That night at seven o'clock he went to work, and it didn't take long to see that he was as bright as a new dollar. He knew everything about the division, knew all the crews and where they lived. Days went by and still he held up his end and was a great favorite with all the force. There was a local instrument in the office, and one of the operators wrote the Morse alphabet for him, and ever after that he kept pegging away at the key. He practiced writing and it wasn't many weeksbefore he was getting to be something of an operator. I went out to the main line battery room one evening to give some instructions to the man in charge and there I discovered Master Dick with a battery syringe in one hand and a brush in the other deeply engrossed in monkeying with the jars.
"Look here, you young rascal," I said sharply, "what are you doing in here? First thing you know you will short circuit some of these batteries and then there'll be the de'il to pay: Don't you ever let me catch you out here again, or I'll fire you bodily."
"I hain't been doing nothin', Mister Bates, I just wanted to see what made the old thing go tick tick. Wot's all them glass jars for wid the green water and the tin in?"
I explained to him as well as I could the construction of the gravity battery. He had been forbidden to monkey with any of the instruments or the switch board in the main office, but his infernal inquisitiveness soon ran away with his sense, and it wasn't long before he was in trouble. He pulled a plug out of the switch board one evening, and Burke threatened to kill him. Another evening, he went into my office and monkeyed with an instrument that I kept there connected to thedespatcher's wire, and left it open. There was no report from any of the offices on either side, and investigation soon revealed the culprit. The wire was open for ten minutes and Burke was as mad as a March hare, when he reported it to me the next morning. I sent for Master Dick and informed him that another such a report against him would cause his instant dismissal. He seemed penitent enough, but two nights afterwards he short circuited all the main line batteries by his foolishness, and raised Cain in the office for a while. The next morning his time was presented to him and he was told to get out. He pleaded hard but his offenses had been too numerous, and I had to let him go. I must confess, however, that we all missed him greatly, because, in spite of his troublesome nature, he was a prime favorite with all the force.
Our road ran through some wild unsettled country, and a few years previous, a Mr. Bob Forney and some distinguished gentlemen of the road, had paid us a visit, with the result that the express company lost about forty thousand dollars and their messenger his life. The country became too warm for them and they fled.
Our flyer left two nights after this, having on board about a hundred thousand dollars of governmentmoney, and I remarked to Bob Stanton, the conductor, that it was a fine chance for a hold up, but he laughed it off and said that civilization was too far advanced for that kind of work just now.
About nine o'clock I was sitting in the despatcher's office smoking a cigar before going home for the night, when all at once the despatcher's wire and the railroad line opened. Sicklen reported south of him and then took off his ground. Pretty soon the sounder began to open and close in a peculiar shaky manner, and then I heard the following:
"To 'DS,' gang of robbers goin' to hold up the flyer in Ashley's cut to-night. They will place rails and ties on the track to wreck train if they don't heed signal. Warn train to watch out and bring gang out from Sicklen. This is Dick Durstine."
All was quiet for a minute and then he started again, but soon he stopped short and we heard no more. The line remained open.
We raised Sicklen on a commercial wire and told him to turn his red-light and hold everything. I was in somewhat of a quandary; the sending had been miserable, sounding unlike any stuff Dick had ever sent, and then the stopping of thewhole business made it seem rather suspicious. Still Ashley's cut was an ideal place for a hold up, and the weather was dark and stormy. Everything was propitious for just such a job.
In the meantime, Ashton, the first office south of Sicklen, had reported on the commercial line that the despatcher's wire was open north of him. That would place it near the cut in all probability. Anyway I didn't intend to take any chance, so I sent a message to Sicklen telling him to notify the sheriff of all the facts and ask him to send out a posse on the flyer, and, also, for him to get the day man to go out and patch the lines up until a line man could get there in the morning. About twenty minutes afterwards the flyer left Sicklen nicely fixed with a strong posse, and an order to approach the cut with caution. It was only three miles from Sicklen to the cut, and I knew it would be but a matter of a short while until something was heard. Sure enough, forty minutes later the despatcher's wire closed and this message came:
"To Bates, DS:"Attempt to hold up No. 21 in Ashley's cut was frustrated by the sheriff's posse. Outlaws had placed ties on the track in case we did not heed the signal to stop. Two of them killed, three captured and one escaped. Dick Durstine is here,badly shot through the right lung. Will have him sent in from Sicklen on 22 in the morning."Stanton, Conductor."
"To Bates, DS:
"Attempt to hold up No. 21 in Ashley's cut was frustrated by the sheriff's posse. Outlaws had placed ties on the track in case we did not heed the signal to stop. Two of them killed, three captured and one escaped. Dick Durstine is here,badly shot through the right lung. Will have him sent in from Sicklen on 22 in the morning.
"Stanton, Conductor."
The next morning when 22 pulled in I went down and there, laid out on a litter in the baggage car, was Dick Durstine, my former call boy, weak, pale, and just living. He was conscious, and when I leaned over him his eyes glistened for a minute, he smiled and feebly said:
"Say, Mister Bates, didn't I do them fellers up in good shape? When I gets well again will you gimme back my job so I can learn some more about the tick tick? I'll never monkey any more, honest to God, I won't."
A queer lump came in my throat and there was a suspicion of moisture in my eyes as I contemplated this brave little hero, and I said:
"God bless your brave little heart, Dick, you can have anything on this division."
Mr. Antwerp had appeared and was visibly affected. We had Dick removed to the company hospital, and then for some days he lay hovering between life and death, but youth, and a strong constitution finally won out and he began to mend.
When he was able to sit up I heard his story. It appeared that when I dismissed him he laid around the place for a day, and then jumping afreight, started south. At Sicklen he had been put off by a heartless brakeman and had started to walk to Ashton. It was evening and he became tired. After walking as far as the north end of the cut he laid down and went to sleep behind a pile of old ties. He was awakened by the sound of voices near by, and listening intently, he learned that the men were outlaws and intended to hold up the flyer that night. They intended to flag her down as she entered the cut and do the business in the usual smooth manner. In case she wouldn't stop, they would have a pile of ties on the track that would soon put a quietus on her flight. Poor little Dick was horrified and stealing quietly away some distance he stopped and cogitated. Time was becoming precious. How was he to send a warning? Oh! if he could only get into a telegraph office! Suddenly an idea struck him. He went a little farther up the track, and shinning up a pole he took his heavy jack-knife, and after a hard effort, succeeded in cutting two wires. Another pole was climbed and only one wire cut from it. With this strand he made a joint so that the two ends of the despatcher's wire could be brought in easy contact. Then by knocking the two ends together he sent the warning. His cutting of the wire had made a peculiar loud twang and one ofthe outlaws heard it. Becoming suspicious, he and his partner started up the track to investigate. They came upon Dick, kneeling on one knee, engrossed in his work, and without one word of warning shot him in the back. They left him for dead, but thank God he did not die, and to-day he is on a road that before many years will land him on top of the heap.
CHAPTER XXAN EPISODE OF SENTIMENT
The night man down at Bentonville quit rather suddenly one fall morning, and as I had no immediate relief in prospect, I wired the chief despatcher of the division south of me to send me a man if he had any to spare. That afternoon I received a message from him saying he had sent Miss Ellen Ross to take the place. I still had a very distinct recollection of my encounter with Miss Love, and I wasn't overfond of women operators anyway, so Miss Ross's welcome to my division was not a hearty one. She was the first woman I had ever had under my jurisdiction. I was at the office quite late a night or two after this, and heard some of her work; there was no use denying that she was a very smooth operator as well as a very prompt one. Burke said he had no complaint to offer; she was always on time, and I must confess I felt much chagrined. I wanted a chance to discharge her, but it didn't appear to materialize. But I was a patient waiterand one morning about three weeks later I came into the office and on looking over the delay sheet I saw the following entry in the delay column:
"No. 18 delayed fifty minutes, account not being able to raise the operator at Bentonville in that time; as an explanation, operator says she was over at the hotel getting her lunch."
Evidently Miss Ross had little ingenuity in the line of excuses or she would never have offered such a threadbare one as that. I wanted the chance to annihilate her and here it was. I called up Bentonville and asked if Miss Ross was there. She was, and I said, "Isn't it possible for you to invent a better excuse than 'lunch' for your failure to answer last night, or this morning rather?"
She drummed on the key for a moment and then said if I didn't like that excuse I knew what I could do. I caught my breath at her audacity and then "did." I sent her time to her on No. 21, and a man to take her place. I then dismissed the matter from my mind and supposed that I had heard the last of Miss Ross. I never was very well acquainted with the female sex or I would not have dismissed the matter with such complacency.
A day or two after this I was sitting in thedivision superintendent's office, he being out on the road, and I heard a voice say:
"Is this Mr. Bates?" I had not heard anyone come in and I glanced up and answered, "Yes." I saw before me a young woman of an air and appearance that fairly took my breath away. I immediately arose to my feet and with all possible deference invited her to take a seat. I supposed she was the wife of some of the officials and wanted a pass. In response to my inquiry as to what could I do for her she said, timidly:
"I am Miss Ross, lately night operator at Bentonville."
Her answer put me more off my ease than ever, but the discipline of the road had to be maintained at any-cost; so as soon as I could, I put on my severest look and sternly said, "Well!" She smiled slightly in a way that made me doubt if she were much impressed by my display of rigor; and answered, "I came to see if you wouldn't take me back. I am sure I didn't mean to offend the other night. I have been an operator for nearly four years and I have never had the least bit of trouble before. You have no fault to find with my work I am sure; and I promise to be very careful to never offend again. Won't you please take me back?"
Gee! but she did look pretty and her big black eyes were shining like bright stars. If she had only known it I was ready by this time to have given her the best job on the whole division, even my own, but I wasn't going to give up without a show of resistance and I said:
"Humph! Well let's see!" Then I rang my bell and told the boy to get me the train sheet of the sixteenth. I looked very stern and very wise as I read the delay report to her.
"That, Miss Ross, is a very serious offense. A delay of fifty minutes to any train is bad enough, but when it happens to a through freight it is the worst possible. Then you say you were at the hotel for lunch. The order book shows that the despatcher called you from twoa. m.until two-fiftya. m.Isn't that rather an unearthly hour to be going out to lunch? My recollection of the Bentonville station is that it is a mile from the excuse of a hotel in the place. Really, I am very sorry but I don't see how anything can be done."
Discipline was being maintained, you see, in great shape, but all the time I was delivering my little speech I was feeling like a big red-headed hypocrite. Miss Ross looked up at me with those beautiful eyes; then two big tears made their appearance on the scene, and she sobbed out:
"Well, I know I told a fib when I made that excuse, but the despatcher was so sharp and I was so scared when he said he had been calling me for fifty minutes, that I told him the first thing that came into my mind. Then, the next day I was angry at you, because I thought you were chaffing me, as I was the only woman on the line, and I suppose I was rather impudent. But do you think it is fair to discharge me for the same thing that you only gave Mr. Ferral fifteen days for? Are you not doing it simply because I am a woman?"
I never could stand a woman's tears, especially a pretty one, and when she cited the case of Ferral, I realized that I had lost my game. I let myself down as easily as I could and that night Miss Ross went back to work at Bentonville, and the man there was put on the waiting list.
It was very funny after this how many times I had to run down to Bentonville. That Sandia branch line had to be inspected; the switch board had to be replaced by a new one in "BN" office; wires had to be changed, a new ground put in, and many other things done, and always I had to go myself to see that the work was done properly. The agent at Bentonville came, before very long, to smile in a very knowing way whenever Ijumped off the train; Mr. Antwerp had a peculiarly wise look in his eye when I mentioned anything about Bentonville, but I didn't mind it. I was in love with the sweet little girl, and was walking on the clouds. If I hadn't been I would have seen that my cake was all dough in that quarter. I might have noticed that big Dan Forbush had an amused look in his eye when I went off on one of these trips. If I had watched the mail I might have seen numerous little billets coming daily from Bentonville, addressed in a neat round hand to "Mr. Dan Forbush." But I didn't, I kept right on in my mad career, and one day when my courage was high I offered my hand and my heart to Miss Ross. She refused and told me that while she was honored by my proposal, she had been engaged to Mr. Forbush for two years, having known him down on the "Sunset" before he came to our road. I took my defeat as philosophically as I could and the next spring she left Bentonville for good, and Dan took a three weeks' leave. When he came back he brought sweet Ellen as his bride. One evening not long after that I was calling there, when Mrs. Forbush looked up at me very naively and said:
"Mr. Bates, did I pay you back for discharging me?"
"Are you not doing it just because I am a woman?""Are you not doing it just because I am a woman?"
There's no doubt about it, she did, and I felt it. She was the third girl to throw me over, and I determined to give up the business and go for a soldier. I stuck it out there till fall and then resigned for all time.
CHAPTER XXITHE MILITARY OPERATOR—A FAKE REPORT THAT NEARLY CAUSED TROUBLE
The railroad and commercial telegraphers are well known to the general public, because they are thrown daily in contact with them, but there is still another class in the profession, which, while not being so well known are, in their way, just as important in their acts and deeds. I refer to the military telegrapher. His work does not often carry him within the environments of civilization; his instruments are not of the beautiful Bunnell pattern, placed on polished glass partitioned tables; his task is a very hard one and yet he does it without a grumble. His sphere of duty is out at the extreme edge of advancing civilization. You will find him along the Rio Grande frontier; out on the sun-baked deserts of New Mexico and Arizona; up in the Bad Lands of Montana, and the snow-capped mountains of the Rockies. A few of them you will find in nice offices at some department headquarters or in the war office inWashington, but such places are generally given to men who have grown old and gray in the service. His office? Any old place he can plant his instruments, many times a tent with a cracker box for a table; a chair would be an unheard-of luxury. His pay? Thirteen big round American dollars per month. His rank and title? Hold your breath while I tell you. Private, United States Army. Great, isn't it? Many times a detail to one of the frontier points means farewell to your friends as long as the tour lasts.
When I left the railroad business I journeyed out westward to Fort Hayes, Kansas, and held up my right hand and swore all manner of oaths to support the Constitution of the United States; obey the orders of the President of the United States and all superior officers; to accept the pay and allowances as made by a generous (God save the word) Congress for the period of five years. Thus did I become a soldier and a "dough boy" because I went to the infantry arm of the service. I've stuck to the business ever since.
I supposed when I went into the army that my connection with wires and telegraph instruments was entirely finished. I had worked at the business long and faithfully and was in a state of mind that I thought I had had enough. That's verygood in theory, but powerful poor in practice, because I hadn't been soldiering a month before a feeling of homesickness for my old love came over me; in fact to this day I never see a railroad but what I want to go up in the despatcher's office and sit down and take a "trick." But there were commissions to be had from the ranks of the army and I wanted one, so I hung on and did my duty as best I could.
The stay at Fort Hayes was a very peaceful and serene one; I did no telegraphing there for a year, and then we were ordered to Fort Clark, Texas. When I quit the commercial business I had almost taken an oath never to go back to Texas, but I couldn't help it in this case.
Fort Clark is one hundred and thirty miles due west of dear old San Antonio, and situated nine miles from the railroad. When my company arrived, there was no telegraphic communication with the outside world and all telegrams had to be sent by courier to Spofford Junction, for transmission. After having been stationed there for about eight months I was sent for by the commanding officer and told to take charge of a party and build a telegraph line over to the railroad. The poles had been set by a detachment of the 3rd Cavalry and in five days' time I had strungthe wire. Being the only operator in the post I was placed in charge of the office and relieved from all duty. It was a perfect snap; no drills, no guards, no parades, nothing but just work the wire and plenty of time to devote to my studies.
In December, 1890, the Sioux Indians again broke loose from their reservations at Pine Ridge and all of the available men of the pitifully small, but gallant, United States army were hurriedly rushed northwards to give them a smash that would be lasting and convincing. There was the 7th Cavalry, Custer's old command, the 6th and 9th Cavalry, the 10th, 2nd, and 17th Infantry, the late lamented and gallant Capron's flying battery of artillery, besides others—General Miles personally assumed command, and the campaign was short, sharp, brilliant and decisive. The Indians were lambasted into a semblance of order, and that personification of deviltry, Sitting Bull, given his transportation to the happy hunting grounds, but not before a score or more of brave officers and men had passes to their long reckoning. Captain George Wallace, of the 7th Cavalry; Lieutenant Mann, of the same regiment, and Lieutenant Ned Casey, of the 22nd Infantry, left places in the ranks of the officers that were hard to fill.
My regiment, the 18th Infantry, was too faraway to go, and besides, the Rio Grande frontier, with Señor Garza and his band of cutthroats prowling around loose, could not be left unprotected. There would be too big a howl from the Texans if that occurred.
During all these trying times my telegraph office was naturally the center of interest, and I had made an arrangement with the chief operator at San Antonio to send me bulletins of any important news. I always made two copies, posting one on the bulletin board in front of my office, and delivering the other to the colonel in person.
Soldiers are very loquacious as a rule and give them a thread upon which to hang an argument, and in a minute a free silver, demo-popocrat convention would sound tame in comparison. Go into a squad-room at any time the men are off duty, and you can have a discussion on almost any old subject from the result of the coming prize fight to the deepest question of the bible and theology. Many times the argument will become so warm between Privates "Hicky" Flynn and "Pie Faced" Sullivan that theology will be settleda laQueensbury out behind the wash-house. Among soldiers this argumentative spirit is called "chewing the rag."
One morning shortly after Wounded Knee withits direful results had been fought, I thought it would be a great joke to post a startling bulletin, just to start the men's tongues a-wagging.
So I wrote the following: