The Sunday Oregonian., December 13, 1903, PART FOUR, Page 32, Image 32

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32
THE SUNDAY OREGONIAtf, ' PORTLAND, DECEMBER 13, 190k
ENGINE. MADE 8 MILES I7N A' MINUTES
NIGHT RIDE WITH A VETERAN ENGINEER OF NERVE
( ON THE OREGON SHORT LINE
ICARUS, poised In the dizzy blue, must .
have had a bad moment when he first
perceived his -wings to be melting. For
hte own sake, I hope he felt no more" un
comfortable than I did when Evan "Wil
liams proceeded to "burn her up" on en
gine S04. Pocatello to Glenn's Ferry, with
train No. 1.
It was on the mall car hat I left Poca
tello, that unlovely resting and repairing
place for wounded and disabled engines
and cars. The vards seemed a wilderness,
sot trackless, but impassable from excess
of tracks. Division Superintendent Man
son had courteously made out a pass au
thorizing tho bearer to ride in the engine
between Pocatello and Glenn's Ferry, and
it may be added that to him is due the
Tjest thing about the ride, namely, the
roadbed ovor which a train glides with a
smoothness that is only appreciated by
comparison with other tracks. In the
mall car tho time passed quickly enough,
a ne er-f ailing supply of railroad anec
dotes being on tap. Express Messenger
Booth, who runs from Portland, came In
tor a share of the reminiscences. It seems
that on one occasion he was entrusted
with two young bears and a monkey. The
bears were made fast beside a pile of
baggage, where there seemed no oppor
tunity for erildolng. When Booth visited
that end of the car a few hours later,
however, he found that the cubs had
eaten every label off the trunks, and not
a vestige remained to indicate their desti
nation. The bears were promptly removed
to the other end of the car, and all went
peaceably for a time. Soon a most fero
cious growling aroused Booth, and he
rushed to the scene to find that the cubs
had each a carcass torn from a case of
dressed chickens, and were engaged In a
lively fight over the prey. It was while
removing the marauders once again that
the monkey deliberately reached rr, took
off Booth's glasses and dashed them on
the floor!
While laughing over the messenger's
mishap we felt the train slow up for
Mlnnetonka. I Jumped down from the
snail car, and walked along to where EM
stood puffing Hke a runner at rest Climb
ing ud the steps I stood in the cab. On
one side was a wall of coal, on the other
a wall of metal ornamented with In
numerable gauges, coks and indicators.
ue fireman stood poised on the slippery,
shakv strip of metal that connected the
floor of the cab with that of the engine.
On either side was a tiny seat up along
side the furnace. From one of them Evan
Williams turned to the glow of the open
door wherein the fireman shoveled coal.
His face was as like that of the late pope's
as two faces could be. Lined and wrinkled,
with the crop's feet that come of peering
into the ee of the wind, this Welshman,
whose nerve was as good as ever despite
the effects of enough unavoidable wrecks
and minor accidents to fill half a column
in their enumeration, appeared more Jlke
a kindly preacher than engineer who would
run -with the oest of them.
"ciimb into the other seat," he said,
"but mind that pipe lfd take the hide
oft if you touched it."
Avoiding the pipe which conveys the
eteam required for heating the cars I
scrambled into the little seat on a cushion
of watte. The fireman closed the furnace
door with a clang, remarking, "I guess
he's going to burn her up tonight." Will
lams pulled the lever over a little, and
804. grunting like an overladen camel,
pressed into the collar. We were moving.
The stait had been almost imperceptible,
and we gained speed as gradually.
I stuck mv head out of the window,
lor the glass in front was so obscured by
smoke and steam that one might as well
try looking through a waterfall. The
grunting gradually died away, 804, a thor
oughbred "compound," lay down to her
work, and as we cleared the scanty out
skirts of Mlnnetonka she was flj ing along
through the night.
Away ahead of us the white gravel road
bed lay like an ordered snowdrift under
the glare of the headlight. Darkness
THE SHADOW'S SHADOW
TO USE the metaphorical language of
poets and thieves, he is a. shadow,
one of the plain-clothes men on the
Portland police force. In other words,
he is a detective. The shadow's shadow
is metaphorical, too. It Is a shadow cast,
not by light, but by darkness. It Is the
shadow of grief, the darkest of all that
whisper to the worshiping heart and bid 1
It break. And the place where this shad
ow's shadow has fallen is a mother's
neart.
Across the street from a largd office
"building, which stands close to the In
definite dividing line between the North
End and respectability. Is a narrow, little
cigar store. It differs from most cigar
stores, in being tidy and clean. Besides
the showcase of cigars, there is one full
of candles, and a small, well-polishe'd
soda-fountain. Children play in front of
it without fear of the proprietor, and at
times even rush inside to escape the
clutches of some big play-bear or to avoid
the hectorlngs of the messenger boys.
And, strange and Improbable as it may
seem, they are not driven brutally out.
The explanation of these phenomena is,
of course, that it is owned and run by a
woman.
During the past year occasion has tak
en me frequently to that building, add,
though the little store Is somewhat out
of the way, I fell into the habit of going
round by It At first it was curiosity that
prompted me to stop for a cigar, and
then it was something else not prefer
ence for her brands, either. Recently I
liave found myself going down there
when I had no cause to go -into the big
building, and no excuse for buvlng tobac
co. I know now, since the shadow's shad
ow came, that it was that little, old
woman's sweet face, crowned with silver
hair, that drew me.
The other day, as I turned the corner
near her shop, I saw a man and a boy
approaching from tho other direction.
The man I recognized at once as the evil
doers' terror, the shadow. But the boy I
did not know. He was about 18 ears of
age, w ell-dressed, and well-fed. But his
face was clouded, and he had the general
air of crumpled bravado that one often
sees in a young criminal.
They reached her doorway, a step or
two in front of me, and entered. I fol
lowed them and unintentionally saw what
occurred. I might have spared her that,
but I didn't know. She was polishing a
glass, and looked up quickly. The color
left her face, the glass fell with a crash
on the floor, and her hand went Instinc
tively to her heart. She recognized the
shadow, and knew that something must
be wrong.
The boy hung his head. She came un
Photo by Grout
1 IJEATIXO TOCATELIX) TOR A DAY'S SPOUT TWO OF TIIB O. S. L STAFF BEKT ON A DAY'S KECREATIOK.
S WRECK NEAR rOCATEIXO, CAUSED BY A SWITCH BEEN'G PARTIALX.Y THROWN OVER BY A BOY. ENGINEER EYAN
WIIXIAMS WAS THitOWN THROUGH HIS CAB WINDOW WITH SUCH FORCE THAT HE AUGHTED ON THE ROOF
OF A BOX CAR SEVERAL YARDS AWAY.
3 NEW "ATLANTIC" TYPE OF ENGINE, WHICH WILX. BE IN USE ON THE OREGON SHORT IONE BY FEBRUARY.
FLANGERS FOR WINTER SERVICE MAY BE SEEN IN TRONT. '
4 BEADY FOR THE RUN. ONE OF THE O. S. Ii. "800" CLASS ABOUT TO PUXB OUT OF POCATELLO;
closed around that gleaming lance of light
like water around a stick thrust in a
pond. Down the snowdrift lay two spark
ling threads, threads of fate they seemed,
as Williams "burned her up," and 804
Jumped and bumped, and swayed, and
rocked, and reeled, guided by them and by
nothing else. Faster and faster we went,
until we seemed to cut the night with a
flashing knife. White -sign posts sprang
out of the darkness itnd were gone. Signal
lights gleamed and disappeared behind us.
We were burning her up. And in some
miraculous way the threads of steel still
steadily from behind the counter, threw
her arms about his neck, drew his head
down and kissed him. xhen she began
to moan and sob.
The shadow turned round, gave me a
glare that brought me out of the trance
Into which surprise had thrown me, and
we both stepped outside. Then we both
did as we ought ho stayed, and I dldn'L
I could not get that scene out of my I
mind. Tho thought of the agony that
spread over that kindly old face drew me
irresistibly back In the evening.
She rose from her chair when I entered
and came slowly up to the cigar case.
She had lived many years in the last few
hours. She fumbled with the catch on
the case, and had to wipe her ejes be
fore she could see the box for which I
called. As she sot it out, she looked up. I
suppose there must have been something
in my look that told her I knew of her
trouble, or she might have seen me there
when the shadow's shadow fell, though
I hoped that she hadn't. At any rate,
se looked at me and began to weep. Then
leading the way, she motioned to me to
come to the rear part of the shop, where
there were two chairs and a little table.
I looked at her as sho sat there, her el
bow s"on the table and her face burled in
ner apron, and Derated myself for a
tongue-tied fool. I knew thnt the tear
ful sympathy of another woman was
what she craved. At last a light dawned
on my benighted mind, and I said:
"Won't you tell me about It?"
Presently, with tears coursing down her
haggard cheeks, and her voice broken by
sobs, she did tell me.
"Why is it people forget you when
you're la trouble?" Bho asked, and then
went on without waiting for reply. "I
guess It's because everybody has enough
.to do to 'tend to his own. Tou don't mind
listening to me, do you? "For I must tell
somebody, and I thought you might not
mind. Tou've been in here pretty often,
you know; and I sort of feel that I know
7ou. I haven't got any friends, except
the children that play around: here. I've
lived here a longvtlme, but I don't seem
to know anybody much. I've tried some,
but, you see, I don't have time to visit
any, and then, you know, this part of
town le well, It's not very good."
She was gradually bringing herself
round to talk of lier real trouble, and I
listened In patience.
'I've had a hard life, and have seen
some mighty sorrowful days, but I never
had one like this before. Ah, it has been
awful! Why didn't I diq beforo it came?
And why must I live now?"
Desiring" to check this despondency, I
said: "But you said you would tell me
all about It; won't you do that' now?
Maybe I can help you."
"Yes, I'll tell vou. But you can't help
me much. It's too late now. All the help
ou can give Is by listening to me. How
old do you think I am?"
She looked CO, and I told her so.
"I know It," sho replied. "I am 45.
Fifteen years ago my husband and I and
our little boy lived in Chicago. We had a
little money, owned our home, and 1m fc4
remained In front of us, and we remained
upon th'em. Behind us swung seven cars;
foolish things, mere incumbrances to an
engine desirous of living. But a few min
utes before I had regarded the engine as
a necessary nuisance. Now, the cars
seemed the same, which Is the tall and
which the dog depends entirely upon,
where jou are rldirg.
The fireman slapped open the furnace
every minute or so, letting a dazzling
flare throw the cab Into sparkling relief
and solid shadow, turning the banner of
white steam that flew from the smoke
A
a good position as bookkeeper. I was
happy, and I thought it would last, but,
vou see. It didn't."
She paused, and looking vacantly over
my head, seemed to be thinking of those
earlier days.
"I had no idea that anything was wrong.
How could I? But one night, as we were
sitting on our porch, a stranger came up
the steps. He cast the first shadow on
my life. He was a detective, and came to
nrrpst mv Vmihnn1 "Vm Unnnr thov" noil
detectives shadows, and it Is a good name. I
because It seems to me that they are al
wais casting some Mack shadow over
somebody. Well, my husband said he was
Innocent, and I believed him and deter
mined to prove that he was. I sold every
thing we had and hired good lawyers; but
It vv as no use. He was sent to Jollet, and
Is there now, I guess. Ho wrote to me
once after he went there and told mo
everything."
"Was he innocent?" I asked, after a
long silence.
"No. TJhat was worse than all the rest.
I thought I could not endure the shame
of it. But I had my little boy, and for
his sake I bore up under it. I simply had j
to leave Chicago, and everything that re-
minaea me or tne old life. I was so un
happy that I shrank from everything that
suggested my former happiness. And I
didn't want my boy to know that his
father was a a "
"I understand; and you came out here,
where he could not hear of it," I inter
rupted to spare her.
"You don't know how that has haunted
me; the thought that he would somehow
hear of It, He thinks, of course, that his
father is dead; and sometimes I pray that
he is. Do jou think that Is wrong for nie
to do that?"
"Many men would better be dead," I
replied, evasively.
"I think he would," she replied. "I
know my boy Is better for thinking he is
dead, anyhow."
After an interval of silence, she con
tinued. "There Isn't much more to tell. I came
out here, and have worked to support and
educate my boy. I have done my bdat 1
ior him. I have given him everything I
possibly could. I have kept him In school,
have provided good clothes for him, and
managed to supply him with a little
spending money, so he would not be
sneered at by the other boys, you know.
But it doesn't seem to have counted. I
did so want him to be a good, strong
man, and now they tell jne he is a thief.
It Isn't so; I know It isn't!" she ex
claimed in her distress, but I could see
that fear that It was true had gripped
her heart. "That sneaking shadow came
around hre with him and told me they
had caught him stealing. - It's a lie!
Theyvo arrested him just because they
couldn't find the real thief; and they've
scared him into saying he did it."
"Then he confesses?" I asked.
"The shadow says he does," she replied,
bitterly,
"What did he tell you?"
"He told me not to be afraid; that it
stack into a streamer of red, even illumin
ing the shadowy sagebrush flats that bor
dered tho track.
"Hard work," I remarked, watching the
hill of coal melt away.
"Not bad when you're used to it," re
plied the grimy feeder of the fire. "Dunno
any easier way of making four dollars.
On some runs I've shoveled fifteen tons
of coal, but it's all done a little at a
time, so vou don't feel it much," and he
balanced himself on the slippery, sliding
floor preparatory to slinging another
shovelful Into the maw of the monster.
Story From Portland's Slums
was all a mistake, and that they would
.let him go In a day or two!"
I knew the symptoms, but tried not to
let my look betray my thought.
"Do you think he did It? Don't you
think the detectlveNled about hlmr sho
asked, leaning eagerly toward me.
"Let's go and see him," I suggested in
lieu of ail answer.
Entering the office at the police station,
wo made known our desire to the clerk.
He looked at us sternly, as If outraged
by our audacity. Finally he command
ed, "Ask the Captain, there!" We" moved
along the narrow counter, and stopped
near the Captain. He was busy drawing
squares ahd triangles on a piece of vellow
scratch paper. We waited patiently for
him to finish. At the end of three min
utes by the clock over his head, he
wheeled around and looked sharply at us
from under his cap. I repeated our re
quest. It must have been a heinous of
fence, because he appeared undecided
whether to fine us $100 or put us on tho
rockplle for 90 days. He gave us a change
of venue Instead. "See the Chief!" he de
creed. In the private office of the Chief we
found him seated behind the brass rall-
ing, which represents the steps to the
dais upon which he is supposed to sit,
valorously, but varaly, resisting tho at-
tempts of an up-country Deputy Sheriff to'
get him to accept 50 cents with which to
pay for a 30-cent telegram. Consequently,
he was In a magnanimous frame of mind
when our turn came. I had' told her to
talk to him.
"Chief," said my companion. "I would
like to talk to my boy. You have him
locked up here."
"What's his name?"
She told him.
"You're hla mother, are you?" he asked,
astutely.
"Yes, sir."
"Who's that with you7" looking sus
piciously at me.
"A friend of mine."
"He ain't no lawyer?"
"No, Chief," I Interrupted, relieving the
situation with a laugh; "I'm no lawyer.'
"Well, all right. I guess you can see
him,' and he gave orders to have the
prisoner brought Into a room where we
could talk to him undisturbed.
The boy received his mother's embrace
and tearful murmurs of love in a crest
fallen. Impatient manner. He was em
barrassed. He felt that emotion Is unbe
coming to a man, and that she was com
promising him. As she continued to
weep, ho assumed the air of a martyr.
She became calmer In a few moments,
and sat down and drew a chair for him
close beside hers.
"Tom," she said, holding his hand and
stroking It tenderly, .ve've come to talk
it over with ou."
He kept his gaze on the floor and made
no reply. She reached up and pushed his
hale back from his wet, wrinkled brow.
"I want you to tell me all about It.
You needn't be afraid to speak right out.
Tell us just how the mistake was made;
how they ever, came to think that j ou
did IL Then we'll tell the Chief, and he'll
let you go. He seems to be a nice man,
and I know he'll believe me."
Tom moved uneasily In his chair," and
tried to draw his hand away. He looked
at me and decided, evidently, that I did
not share his mother's credulity.
"There ain't any use In talking about ii,
ma," he Anally replied.
"But I must know, so I can explain
and get you out of this awful place."
"Aw, them fellows won't believe what
you tell 'em. They've pinched me, and
that shows they've got their minds made
up."
"But, Tom, dear, it's worth trying, any
how." "No, It ain't, I tell you," he replied In
a rough, curt tone, which I took to be the
one that he usually employed when talk
ing with her.
"They told me this afternoon, you know,
that jou had confessed," she said, with
an Inflection that Implied a question.
1 "Aw, that's the way them shadows al
ways do."
She showed no surprise at his language.
Evidently she was used to It. He saw
my anger, however, and flushed slightly.
He gave me a look of resentment, from
which I inferred that my presence was
far from pleasing to him.
"Did you tell them that you did it,
Tom?" she asked, .beseeching with, every
fiber of her being a negative answer.
Of course. I didn't, mi," he answered,
with a nervous laugh. She looked him in
the face, and he shifted his gaze up to
the barred window. I think that right
then her fear of his guilt Tjecame suspi
cion. It came over me that perhaps she
was living over with the son a scene she
had enacted with the father, and that
every circumstance of it was like tearing
open a healing wound. She looked at me
plteously, and I tried to go to her rescue.
"Look here, Tom," I said; "your mother
wants to get vou out of this scrape. I
do, too. Now, be honest with us. Tell us
all about It."
"I ain't got anything to tell you," he
replied. "If you want to help me out of
this, you go and get " (Here
he mentioned a certain Police Court law
yer.) "and send him down here. That's
all you can do."
He rose and walked Impatiently about
the room. I saw that we could get noth-
inrr mnrs nut of him. and Tjretiared to CO
I Btepped outside, to give the mother a j
chance for a word with him alone, Dut
purposely left my umbrella In the room.
When she came out, I started away with
her, but went back to get the umbrella.
They had not yet taken him back to the
cage, and he seemed to expect me.
"You d d fool!" he exclaimed, bitterly. '
"Don't you see they've sweated It out of t
me? I'm stuck, but I don't want her to
know."
"But they'll send you up, and then sho'll !
know," '
"No, she won't. She'll think they've Hed
about me. And. yxu bet, I won't be like
the old man. and write her that I did
do it."
"You know that?" I muttered in sur
prise. "Sure. Women don't get wise enough to
burn letters. No; that was pretty tough
on the old woman. I couldn't do that."
I marveled at his exceeding kindness to
his mother, and left him. Her steps fal
tered as we walked away, and I had to
steady her several times. She did not
speak a word, and I knew that the gloom
of the shadow's shadow had settled upon
her heart, never to rise.
An Old Story Revived.
Congressional Record, Nov. IS.
Mr. GUlett, of Massachusetts. Mr. Chair
man, I understand that a great majority
of both parties favor this bill and I have
no doubt that It will pasa by practically a
unanimous vote, and one of the earliest
lessons I learned at the law was not to
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OPE RAT IONS
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y
"All right. Jack?" Williams asked, and
thp fireman looked out on Ihe other side.
"RIglit," he said. "They've given us the
ighball."
I made out a light swinging down the
track, but the highball
"That's the high sign." explained the
fireman. "AH right, O. K., go ahead."
Suddenly I made out another train. It
was right bn our track, and we were
hurtling Into It at 0 miles an hour! I
didn't have time, to feel sorry I wasn't
back on the lltt(e farm beforo we were
upon the motionless train In front. The
glare of two opposing headlights showed
the other train to be on a siding, and the
thread-like rails glistened in the glare.
While I was considering the utter impos-
j slblllty of a knife-edge of steel directing a
whizzing monster like S04, the knife-edge
had caught the flanges and the other train
was puffing as she gathered way be
hind, us.
We began to slow up soon after this.
"Trouble with the back end of the right
main rod," said the fireman, as he picked
up a big piece of soap and skipped down
as we came to a stop. Soap! What the
dickens Is soap for? I wondered, and felt
like asking; as an English tourist might:
"Are you going to wash the blasted
thing?" But the soap was only a lubri
cant, and the amount of It that was
chewed up by SM on her run was a won
der. Williams and the fireman were down
on the ground with flaring lights, dousing
the hot pin with cold water and feeding
soap to steel jaws. Presently they clam
bered on board and we were off once more.
"Old man's disappointed," said the fire
man, as he swung shut the furnace door.
"Wanted to show ou a good run."
"Lord!" said I, "he didn't want to go
any faster, did he?"
"'Faster! We weren't doing much better
than a mile a minute. He's done eight
miles In four. and a half minutes on thl3
road. Track's good, and he'll go just as
fast as thev '11 let him. He's been smashed
up a score of times, but his nerve's as
good as the best. Not more than a few
months ago a kid monkejed with a switch
near Pocatello, and there was a bad
smash-up. Evan was. thrown out of the
cab window and landed on top of a box
car on another track.'
And thl3 Is the man who runs eight
miles In four and one-half minutes, and
sajs with his nearest approach to pride:
"Running an engine twenty-six jears and
my first wheel to come off the track vet
through carelessness."
Again we had to slow up to soothe S04's
redhot rheumatism with cold water and
soap.
"They fool the engineers now," said the
fireman when we started again. "It was
different Wien men had the same engine.
Now an engineer Isn't so careful In re
porting small defects when he comes In
from a run, as ne knows he won't ba
taking out that engine right away.
"But these engines do about 320 miles a
day, and that's going some. It would
have seemed impossible not so long ago."
On reaching Shoshone there was a fine
down grade of 50 miles, and along this we
. rushed at a terrific pace, handicapped, un
fortunately, by having to make frequent
stops for treatment of S04's Inflammation.
At last we reached Glenn's Ferry, where
1 Williams ended his run.
j I got down from the engine and went
back, to the car. Aleck Le Rose, a griz
zled old Frenchman, took us Into Hunting
ton. How he goes will be understood from
the fact that from Welser to Huntington,
23 miles, around a track so curving that
vou can hardly tell whether the engine Is
chasing the last car or the last car the
engine, was covered In 23 minutes, stop to
stop.
A ride in the cab of an engine gives one
a respect for railroad men that nothing
else can. From the men who make tho
roadbed to the men who run over it, from
the superintendent, who knows hisi divi
sion like a book, to 'the engineer, who
knows his engine like a brother, they are
all men df action In a world of action.
WEXFORD JONES.
By Hugh Herdman
argue a case when you found that the
court or the jury was on jour side. In
deed, they have a tradition at the bar
of my county, very possibly the same
story Is told at the bar of every other
county In the United States, of a lawyer
who bad not learned that fundamental
rule, and when he rose to address tho
Supreme Court In response to a lawyer
on the other side it was suggested to him
by the chief justice. "Mr. Jones, the court
Is with jou." But Mr. Jones did not tnko
the hint and harangued the wearied but
patient court for an hour. When he sat
down the Chief Justice, with the samo
politeness, remarked: "The court Is still
with you, Mr. Jones." I can only hopo
that this court will still be with me, al
though I am very sure In the House of
Representatives it will not be expressed
with the urbanity of that Chief Justice.
WHEN
The Great Chinese Doctor
C. GEE WO
can cure you of any aliment by his powerful and harmless
Chinese herbs and roots, which are unknown to medical
science of this country. His wonderful cures throughout
the U. S. alone tell the story. Thousands of people are
thankful to him for saving their lives from
J