The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 15, 1904, Page 7

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL.' HERE goes a fellow that walks like Siclone Clark,” ex- claimed Duck Middleton. Duck was sitting in the trainmaster’s office with a group of engineers. He was one of the blacklisted strikers and Tuns an engine now down on the Santa Fe. But at long intervals Duck gets back to revisit the scenes of his early triumphs. The men who surrounded him were once at deadly odds with Duck and his chums, though now the ancient enmities seem forgotten, and Duck — the once ferocious Duck — sits oocasionally among the new men and sossips about early days on the West End. “Do you remember Siclone, Reed?” asked Duck, calling to me in the pri- wvate office 1 him?” I echoed. “Did anybody who ever knew Siclone forget him? Siclone Clark was one of the two cow- boys who helped Harvey Reynolds and Ed Banks save 59 at Griffin the night the coal train ran down from Ogalalia. They were h taken the service; r a while, went to wiping. Bucks asked his name Siclone T Clark." name?” asked at does S. stand for?” per- s for Siclone, I reckon, don’t cowboy, with some hose days on the too closely about be reasons why emed courteous ied Bucks, drop- ymar; and with- ecks always name seemed to hout any objection, e to know him 1 Bucks was be- second sight when he d fireman. He quicker than any and if he felt so Xer. centricities, which eadstrong way of Clark was a served a better hat befell him. 1t may have orst thing that clone. He was one d, wviolent loaded with enthu- to gain by it— fellows, at least ak of. But the dea th s 1 the East End led men like Siclone it & cinch that ave to take them The consequence was that when we staggered along out them, men like Siclone, easily aroused, naturally of violent s and with no seif- restraint, stopped at nothing to cripple the service. And they looked on the men who took their places as entitled neither to nor life men began coming ng to replace the strik- wondered who would get 1| the 313. Siclone had gently sworn to kill the first man ~and bar nobody. thought of Siclone’s anted for a good deal nobody wanted \\} » feared no man, in her stall as after the trouble be- as said about it. Threats cognizance of offigial- mbarded with threats had long since ceased 's engine stayed s and, McTerza and rick from the was put on the mails, wn one day on the White nder head out of was waiting to take her % hen she came stumping in on one T rivers—for we were g en- than horseflesh then. But, f course, the 416 was put out. The left in the house was the 313. Eig nagine Neighbor felt the finger of The mail had to go. The e for the 313; he ordered had com that ran this engine swore the man that took her ghbor, sort of incident- tood by waiting for her steam 1 suppose that means me,” said Fitzpatrick 1 suppose it does.* Whose engine is it?"” » Clark’s.” ick shifted to the other leg. Did he say what I would be doing while this was going on?” Something in Fitzpatrfick's manner made Neighbor laugh. Other things _crowded in and no more was said, ‘o more was thought, in fact. The rolled as kindly for Fitzpatrick as for Siclone, and the new engineer, a quiet fellow like Foley, only a good bit heavier, went on and off her with never a word to anybody. One day Fitzpatrick dropped into a barber shop to get shaved. In the next chair lay Siclone Clark. Siclone got through first, and, stepping over to the table to get his hat, picked up FE 5 s T0 Look qoy ~ Fitzpatrick's by mistake ana walked out with it. He discovered his change just as Fitz got out of his chair. Siclone came back, replaced the hat on the table, took up his own hat, and, as Fitz reached for his, looked at him. Every one in the shop caught their breath. “Is your name Fitzpatrick?” “Yes, sir.” “Mine is Clark.” Fitzpatrick put on his haw “You're running the 313, I believe?” continued Siclone. “Yes, sir.” “That’s my engine. & lhoughl it belnrvrr-‘l to the com- par\ May be it.does; but I've agreed to Kill the man that takes her out before this trouble is settled,” said Siclone amiably. Fitzpatrick, met him steadlly. vou’ll let me know when place I'll try and be there.” “I don’t jump on any man without fair warning, any of the boys will tell b it takes vou ‘that,” continued Siclone. *May be you didn't know my word was out?” Fitzpatrick hesitated. “I'm not looking for trouble with any man,” he replied, guardedly. “But since you're disposed to be fair about notice, it's only fair to you to say that I did know your word was out.” *“‘Still you took her?” “It was my orders.” “My word is out; the boys know it is good. I don't jump any man with- out fair warning. I know you now, Fitzpatrick, d the next time I see ou, look out,” and without more ado lone walked out of the shop, greatly to the relief of the barber, if not of Fitz. Fitzpatrick may have wiped a lit- tle sweat from his face, but he said nothing—only walked #8own to the roundhouse and took out the 313 as usual for his run. A week passed before the two men met again. One night Siclone, with a crew of the strikers, ran into half a dozen of the new men,. Fitzpatrick among them, and there was a riot. It was, Siclone's time to carry out his intention, for Fitz- patrick would have scorned to try to get away. No tree ever breasted a torhado more sturdily than the Irish engineer withstood Siclone; but when Ed Banks got there with his wreck- ing crew and straightened things out Fitzpatrick was picked up for dead. That night Siclone disappeared. Warrants were gotten. out and searchers put after him. It was gen- erally understood that the sudden dis- appearance was one of Siclone’s freaks. If the ex-cowboy had so de- termined he would not have hidden to keep out of anybody’s way. I have sometimes pondered whether shame hadn’t something to do with it. His tremendous physical strength was, fit for 8o much better things than beat- ing other men that maybe he sort of realized it after the storm had passed. Down east of the depot ground at McClouds stands, or stood, a great barnlike hotel, built in boom days. and long a favorite resting place for invalids and travelers en route to Cal- ifornia by easy stages. It was nick- named the barracks. Many railroad men' boarded there and the new en- gineers llked it because it was close to the roundhouse and away from the strikers. Fitzpatrick,without a whine or a com- plaint, sas put to bed in the barracks, and Holmes Kay, one of our staff gur- geons, was given charge of the case; a trained nurse was provided besides. Nobody thought the injured man would live. But after every care was given him we turned our attention to the troublesome tagk of operating the road. The 313, whether it happened so or whether Neighbor thought it well to drop the disputed machine temporarily, was not takén out again for three wecks. She was looked on as a hoo- doo and nobody wanted her. Foley re- fused point-blank one day to take her, claiming that he had troubles of his own. Then, one day, something hap- pened to McTerza's engine: we were strained for'a locomotive and the 313 was brought out for McTerza; he didn’t like it a bit. - Meantime nothing had been seen or heard of Siclone. That, in fact, was the reason Neighbor urged for using his engine; but it seemed as if every time the ‘313 went out it brought out Siclone, not to speak of worse things. That morning about 3 o’clock the un- lucky engine was coupled on to the White Flyer. The night boy at the barracks always got up a hot lunch for the incoming and outgoing crews on the mail run, and. that morning when he was theough, he forgot to turn off the lamp under his coffee tank. It overheated the counter and in a few minutes the woodwork was ablaze. If the frightened boy had emptied the coffee on the counter he could have put the fire out, but instead, he ran out to give the alarm and started upstairs to arouse the guests. b~ =T There were at least fifty people asleep in the house, traveling and rail- way men. Being a wooden building it was a quick prey and in an incredibly short time the flames were leaping through the second story windows, When I got down men were jumping in every direction from the burning hotel. Railroaders swarmed around, busy with schemes for getting the peo- ple out, for none are more quickwitted in time of panic. Short as the oppor- tunity was there were many pretty rescues, until the flames, shooting up, cut off the stairs and left the helpers nothing for it but to stand and watch the' destruction of the long, rambling building. Half a dozen of us looked from the dispatchers’ offices in the second story of the depot. We had agreed that the people were all out, when Foley below gave a cry and pointed to the south gable. Away up ynder the eaves at the third-story win- dow we saw a face—it was Fitzpat- rick, Everybody had forgotten Fitzpatrick and his nurse. Behind, as the flames lighted the opening, e could see the nurse struggling to get him to the win- dow. It was plain that the engineer was in no condition to help himself; the two men were in deadly peril; a great cry went up. The crowd swarmed like ants around the south end; a dozen men called for ladders, but there wetre no ladders. They called for volunteers to go In after the two men, but the stairs were long since like a furnwce. There were men in plenty to take any kind of a chance, however slight, but no chance offered, The nurse ran to and from the win- dow, seeking a loophole f . escape. Fitzpatrick dragged himself higher on the casement to get out of the smoke which rolled over - him in choking bursts, and looked down on the crowd. They begged him to jump—held out their arms frantically. The two men again side by side waved a hand; it looked like a farewell. There was no calling from them, no appeal. The nurse would not desert his charge and we saw it all. Suddenly there was a cry below, keener than the confused shouting of the crews, and one running forward parted the men at the front IDI. clear~ ing the fence, jumped into. the yard under the burning gable. Before people recognized him a lariat was swinging over his head—it was Si- clone Clark. The rope left his arm like & slung-shot and flew straight at Fitz- patrick. Not seel or confused, he missed it, and the rope,’ with a grean from the crowd, settled back. The agile cowboy caught it again into a loop and shot it upward, that time tairly over Fitzpatrick’s head. “Make fast!” roared Siclone. Fitzpat- rick shouted back, and the two men above drew taut. Hand over hand Si- clone Clark crept up, like a monkey, bracing his feet against the smoking clapboards, edging away from the vom- iting windows, swinging on the single strand of Horsehair and followed by a ‘hundred prayers unsaid. Men who dldn’t know what tears ‘were tried to cry out to keep the chok- Ing from their throats. It seemed an age before he covered the last five feet, and the men above caught frantically at his hands. Drawing himself over the casement he was lost with them a moment; then, from behind a burst of smoke, they saw him rigging a maverick saddle on Fitzpatrick; saw Fitzpatrick, lifted by Clark and the nurse over the sill, low- ered like a wooden tie, whirling and swinging, down into twenty arms be- low. Before the train men had got the engineer loose the nurse, following, slid like a cat down the iIncline, but not an instant too soon. A tongue of flame lit the gable frdm below and licked the horsehair up into a curling, frizzling thread. And Siclone stood alone in the _upper casement. It seemed for the moment he stood ‘there the crowd would go mad. ‘The shock and the shouting seemed to confuse him; it may have been the hot alr took his breath. They yelled to him to jump, but he swayed uncertainly. Once, an instant after that,” he was seen to look down; then he drew back from tne 1 pever saw Ahim again. The flames wrapped the bullding in & yellow fury; by daylight the big barracks were a smoldering pile of ruins. So little water was thrown that it was nearly nightfall before we could get into the wreck. The tragedy had blotted out the feud between the strikers and the new men. Side by side they worked, as side by side Si- clone and Fitzpatrick had stood in the morning, striving to uncover the mys- tery of the rissing man. Next day twice as many men were in the ruins. Fitzpatrick, while we were search- ing, called continually for Siclone Clark. We didn’t tell him the truth; indeed, we didn’t know it; nor do we know it yet. Every brace, every beam, every brick was taken from the charred pile, every foot of . cinders, every handful of ashes sifted, but of & hu- man being the searchers found never a trace. Not a bone, not a key, not & knife, not a button which could be identifled as his. Like the smoke which swallowed him up, he had disappeared completely and forever. Is he alive? I cannot tell But this I know: Years afterward Sidney Blair, head of our engineering department, -was running a line, looking then, as we are looking yet, for a coast outlet. He took only a flying camp with him, traveling in the lightest kind of order, camping often with the cattle- men he ran across. One night, away down In the pan- handle, they fell in with an outfit driving a bunch of steers up the Yel- low Grass trail. Blair noted that the foreman was a character, a man of few words, but of great muscular strength, and, moreover, frightfully scarred. He was silent and inclined te be morose at first, but after he learned Blair was from McCloud he unbent a bit, and after a time began asking questions which Indicated a surpris- ing famillarity with the northern country and with our road. In par- ticular this man asked what had be- come of Bucks, and, when told what a big railroad man he had grown, as- serted with a sudden bitterness and without in any way leading up to it that with Bucks on the West End there never would have been a strike. Sitting at their campfire while their crews mingled, Blair noticed In the flicker of the blaze how seamed the throat and breast of the cattleman were; even his sinewy forearms were drawn out of shape. He asked, too, whether Blair recollected the night the barracks burned, but Blalr, at that time, was east of the river and so ex- plained though he related to the cow- bey incidents of the fire which he had heard, among others the story of Fits- patrick and Siclone Clark. “And Fitzpatrick is alive and Si- clone is dead,” sald Blalr, In conclu- sion. But the cowboy disputed him. “You mean Clark is alive and Fitz- patrick Is dead,” sald he. “No,” contended Sidney, “Fitzpatrick is running an engine up thers now. 1 spw him within three months.” But the cowboy was loth to conviction. Next morning their tralls forked. The foreman seemed disinclined te part from the surveyors and while the bunch was starting he rode a 1 way with Blair, talking in a random Wi¥. Then, suddenly wheeling, he waved a good-by with his heavy Stetson and, galloping hard, was soon lost to the north in the ruts of the Yellow Grass. Once again, that only two years ago, something came back to us. Holmes Kay, one of our staff of surgeons, the man, in fact, who took care of Fitzpatrick, enlisted in Illinois and went with the First to Cuba. They got in front of Santlago just after the hard fighting of July 1 and Holmes was detailed for hospital work ameng Roosevelt's men. One of the wounded, a sergeant, had sustained a gunshot wound in the jaw and in the vconfusion had received scant attention, Kay took hold of him. He was a cowboy, llke most of the rough riders, and after his jaw was dressed Kay made some remark about the hot fire they had been through be- fore the blockhouse. casement. “Where are you from?" asked Holmes. “Everywhere."” “Where did you get burned that way?" ‘Out on the plains,” “How?" But the poor fellow went off into a delirfjum and to the surgeon’'s amaze- mernt degan repeating train orders. Kay was parglyzed at the way he talked our lingo—and a cowboy. Neighbdor, when he heard the story, was only confirmed in his belief that the” roughrider was Siclone Clark. I give you the tales ag they came to me, and for what you may make of them. I myself belleve that if Siclone Clark is still alive he will one day yet come back to where hé was best known and, in spite of his fauits, best liked. They talk-of him out there as they do of old man Sankey. I say I believe if he lives he will one day come back. The day he does wiil be a great day in McCloud. On that day Fitspatrick will have to take down the little tablet which he placed in the brick facade of the hotel which mow stands on the site of the old barracks. For, as that tablet now stands, it is sacred to the memory of Siclone Clark.