The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 19, 1904, Page 7

I" the Storfes That Ne \ this of the Me- l w But it happened s & that matter Me- w ms pad It wasn't grief that ugh at one time near killing nly sort of a yarn, too: be- t to head- of it never ase one part of it never g r part arters. nce, the mysterious gtarted from Chicago on . P 15 schedule, how mang ice know that even yet? another instance, Sinclair s took the ratty old car reel- nver with the glass shriv- nt blistered, the hose and a tire sprung on one of the ine’s drivers—how many head- quarters slaves know that? Our end of the story never went In at all. Never went in because it was not deemed—well, essential to the get- ting up of the annual report. We could have raised their hair; they could have raised ries; but they didn’t; we didr In tel ng this story I would not be is not the only icago and Denver; ers, I admit it. But there is only line (all the same) that could have taken the McWilliams Spe- clal, as we did, out of Chicago at four the evening and put it in Denver long before noon the next day. A comghufication came from a great LaSalle street banker to the president of our road. Next the second vice pres- ident heard of it, but in this way: “Why ve you turned down Peter McWilllams® request for a special to Denver this afternoon?’ asked the pres. between there are one too much,” came back wire. “We can’t do it.” ying himself on this point t called up LaSalle street. Mr. McWilllams, we ur folks say. ¥ t do i en the car be ready?” When must it be in Denver?” c k to-morrow morning.” nearly jumped the wire. s, you're.crazy. What on e back so slow that the y caught it. There were oc- such as “situation al” “grave danger,” “must help me out.” none of this wguid ever have regidént had not Peter Mc- a bigger man than most and a personal request Peter he stuck to it, could ¥ be refused; and for this he most dly stuck. - T tell you it will turn us upside stormed the president. Do you recollect,” asked Peter Me- “when your infernal old pot of & road was busted eight years ago— turned inside out then, And hung up to dry, outbursts, rations you were weren't weren't you?" president™ did regollect; he could cently help recoliecting. And he ow, about the same time, lliame had one week taken a matter of two miilions h a personal check, and t eighteen months without se- curity, en the money could not be street Government you? Peter McW' up Soet carrie e it hat is, have you heretofore raliroad beiongs to the ot so; it belongs to 18, who own it when other times they let Iders carry it—untfl they do what we can, Peter,” re- i that a I am giving you only an inkling of how it started. Not a word as to how « csg were . issued, and tiees edules were canceled. Not paragraph about numberless d in toto, and number- =d and hauled and held e MeWilllams Special great system into aster mecchanics by the ear ss falsifiers of pre- tralnmen. It made s of rival superintend- ent paretics of jolly It shivered us from and stem to stern, buf it 1026 miles of the best Bteel in her better thand twenty e of glory. rd i= out,” said the president hiz message to all superintendents, thirty minutes later. “You will get your division schedule in a few mo- E no reasons for inability it; simply deliver the goods. ur time report, which comes M. S, I want the names and { every member of every train and every engine crew that haul McWilllams car,” Then followed ular injunctions of secrecy above the newspapers must not get it. where newspapers are, secrecy only be hoped for—never attained. In spite of the most elaborate precau- tions to preserve Peter McWilliams' secret — would you believe it?—the eveni.g papers had half a column— practically the whole thing. Of course they had to guess et some of it, but for & newspaper story it was pretty cor- rect, just the same. They had, to a servati nem diepatcher a bl erew the part But minute, the time of the start from Chi- cago, and hinted broadly that the schedule was a hair-raiser; something to make previous very fast records pre- vious very slow records. And — here in a scoop was the secret — the train was to convey a prominént Chicago capitalist to the bedside of his dying son, Philip McWilliams, in Denver. Further, that hourly bulletins were be- ing wired to the distressed father, and that every effort of szlence would be put forth to keep the unhappy boy alive until his father could reach Den- ven on the special. Lastly, it was hoped by ail the eveni:g papers (to fill out the hailf first-colu: .. scare) that sunrise would see the anxious parent well on toward the gateway of the Rockies. Of course the morning papers from the Atlantic to the ' Pacific had the story repeated—scare-headed, in fact— and the public were Jaughing at our people’s dogged refusat to confirm the report or to be iIntérviewed at all on the subject. The papers had the story, anyway. What did they care for our efforts to screen a private distress which insisted on so paralyzing a time-card for 1026 miles? When our own, the West End, of the schedule, came over the wires there was a universal, & vociferous, kick Dispatchers, superintendent of motive power, trairmaster, everybody, pro- tested. We were given avout’ seven hours to cover 400 miles—the fastest percentage, by the way, on the whole run. “This may be grief for yo:ng Me- Willlams end for his dad,” grumbled the chief dispatcher that evening, as he ‘cribbed the press dispatches going over the wires about the special, “but” the grief is not theirs alone.” THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALLL Then he made a protest to Chicago. What the answer was none But him- self ever knew. It came personal, and he took it personally; but.the manner in which he went to work clearing track and making a card for the Mc- illlams Special showed better speed than the train itself ever attempted— and he kicked no more. After all the row, it seems incredi- ble, but they never got ready to feave Chicago till four o’clock and when the McWilliams Speecial lit into our train system It was llke dropping & moun- tain lion into a bunch of steers. Freights and extras, local passen- ger trains even, were used to being sidetracked; but when It came to lay- ing out the fllers and (I whisper this) the White Mail, and the Manila ex- press, the oil began to sizzle in the journal boxes. The freight business, the passenger traffic — the mail schedules of a whole rallway system— were actually knocked by the McWil- liams Special Into a cocked hat. From the minute it cleared Western avenue it was the only thing talked of. Divisional headquarters and ecar tink shanties allke were bursting with excitement. On the West End we had all night to prepare, and at 6 o'clock newt morning every man in the operating department was on edge. At precisely 3:58 a. m. the McWilllams Special stuck its nose iInto our diviston, and Foley—pulled off No. 1 with the 46— was heading her dizzy for McCloud. Already the McWilllams had made up thirty minutes on the one-hour delay in Chicago, and Lincoln threw her into our hands with a sort of “There, now! Youggellows—are you any good at all on ‘West End?” And we thought we were, Sitting In the dispatcher’s office, we tagged her down the line like a swal- low. Harvard, Oxford, Zanesville, Ashton—and a thousand people at the McCloud station walted for 6 o'clock >, T L e 5 and for Foley’s muddy cap to pop through the Blackwood bluffs; watehed him stain the valley maples with a stream of black and white, scream at the junction switches, tear and crash through the yards;, and slide hissing and panting up under our nose, swing out of his cab, and look at no- body at all but his watch. We made it 5:59 a. m. Central time. The miles, 136; the minutes, 121, The schedule was beaten—and that with the 136 miles the fastest on the whole 1026. Everybody In town yelled except Foley; he asked for a chew of tobacco and, not getting one handily, bit into his own plece. ‘While Foley melted his weed George Sinclair stepped out of the superin- tendent’s office—hé was done in a black silk shirt,” with a blue four-in-hand streaming over his front—stepped out to shake hands with Foley, as one hostler got the 466 out of the way and another backed down with a new Sky- scraper, the 509. But nobody paid much attention té all this, *The mob had swarmed around the ratty, old, blind-eved- baggage car, which, with an ordinary waycar, con- stituted the McWilllams Special. “Now what does & man with Me- ‘Willlams' money want to travel spe- clal is an old piotograph gallery like that for?” asked Andy Cameron, who .was the least bit huffed because he hadn’t been marked up for the run himself. “You'd better take him ina cup of hot coffee, Sinkers,” suggested Andy to the lunch counter boy. “You might get a ten-dollar bill if the old man isn’t feeling too badly. What' do you hear from Denver, Neighbor?" he asked, turning to th perintendent of motive power. “Is the boy holding out?” “I'm not worrying about the boy holding out; it's’ whether the Five- Nine will hold out.” “Aren’t you going to change engines and crews at Arickaree?” TIIE HHLLALLS 74, %Afi JUST AEEOK T/TE0UGH Q480 sald Neighbor, grim- ly; “we haven't time.” Just then Sinkers rushed at the bag- gage car with a cup of hot coffee for M- McWilliams. Everypody, hoping to get a peep at the capitalist, made way. Sinkers climbed over the train chests which were lashed to the plat- forms and pounded on the door. He pounded hard, for he hoped and be- lieved that there was something in it. But he might have pounded till his coffee froze for all the impression it made on the sleepy McWilliams. “Haen’t the man trouble enough without tackling your chickory?” sang out Felix Kennedy, and the laugh 8o discouraged Sinkers that he gave over and sneaked away. At that moment the editor of the local paper came around the depot corner on the run. He was out for an interview, and, as usual, just a trifle late. However, he insisted on board- ing the baggage car to tender his sym- pathy to McWilliams, The barricades bothered him, but he mounted them all and began an emer- gency pound on the forbidding blind door. Imagine his feelings when the door was gently openéd by a sad-eyed man, who opend the ball by shoving a rifle as big as a pinchbar under the editorial nose. . “My grief, Mr. McWilliams,” pro- tested the Interviewer in a trembling voice; “don’'t imagine I want to hold you. up. Our citizens are all peace- able—" “Get out!” “Why, man, I'm not even asking for a subscription; I simply want to ten: s “Get out!"” snapped the man with the gun, and in a foam the newsman climbed down. A curious crowd gath- ered close to hear an editorial version of the Ten Commandments revised on the spur of the moment, Felix Ken- nedy said it was worth going miles to hear. “That's the coldest deal I ever struck on the plans, boys,” declared the editor. “Talk about your be- reaved parents. If the boy doesn’t have a chill when that man reaches him I miss my guess. He acts to me as If he was afraid his grief would get away before he got to Denver.” Meantime Georgie Sinclair was tying a-silk handkerchief around his neck, while Neighbor gave him parting in- junctions. As he put up his foot to g Into the cab the boy looked for all the world like Jocke, toe In a stirrup. Neighbor glanced at his wateh, “Can you make it by 11 o'clock?” he growled. " “Make what?" ‘Denver.” ‘ “Denver or the ditch, Neighbor,” laughed Georgle, testing the air. “Are you right back there, Pat?” he called, as Conductor Francis strode forward to compare the mountaln time, “Right and tight, and I call it five- “Flve-two-thirty-two," answered Sin- clair, leaning from the cab window. nd we are ready.” “Then go,” cried Pat Francis, rais- ing two fingers. “Go!" echoed Binclalr, and waved & backward smile to the crowd, as the pistons took the push’'and the escapes ‘wheexed. A roar went up. The little engineer shook his cap, and with a flirting, snaking slide, the MoWilllams Special drew slipping away between the shin- ing ralis for the Rockl Just how MeWillia: felt we had no means of knowing; but we knew our hearts would not beat fresly until his iInfernal special would slide safely over the last of the 266 miles which lay botween the distressed man and his un- fortunate child. Frem MceCloud to Ogalalla there was a good bit of twisting and slew- ing; but looking east from Athens a marble dropped between the ralls might roll clear into the Ogalalla yards. It was a sixty-mile grade, the ballast of slag and the sweetest, springiest bed under steel. To cover those sixty miles in better than fifty minutes was like picking them off the ponles; and the Five-Nine breasted the Morgan divide, fretting for more hills to climb. The Five-Nine—for that matter any of the sky-scrapers are built to bal- ance ten or a dozen sleepers, and when you run them light they have a fadhion of rooting their noses Into the trmck. A modest up-grade just about counters this tendency; but on & slump and a stiff clip and no tall to speak of, you feel as if the drivers were going to buck up on the ponies every once in a while. However, they never do, and Georgie whistled for Scarboro Junetion, and 180 miles and two waters In 198 minutes out of McCloud, and looking happy cussed Mr. McWilllams a little and gave her another hatful of steam. It is getting down a hill, like the hills of the Mattaback Valley, at such a pace, that pounds the track out of shape. The Five-Nine lurched at the curves like a mad woman shook free with very fury, and If the baggage- car had not been fairly loaded down with the grief of McWilllams it must have jumped the ralls a dozen times in as many minutes. Indeed, the fireman—it was Jerry MacElroy—twisting and shifting be- tween the tender and the furnace, looked for the first time grave and stole a questioning glance from the steam gauge toward Georgie. But yet he didn't expect to see the boy, his face set ahead and down the track, straighten so suddenly up, sink in the lever and close at the instant on the air. Jerry felt her stumble under his feet—caught up like a girl in a skipping rope—and grabbing a brace looked, like a wise stoker, for his an- swer out of the window. There far ahead it rose in hot curling clouds of smoke down among the alfalfa mead- ows and over the sweep of willows along the Mattaback River. The Mat- taback bridge was on fire, with the McWilllams Special on one side and Denver on the other. Jerry MacElroy yelled—the engineer aidn’t even look around; only whistled an alarm back to Pat Francis, eased her down the grade = bit, like a man reflecting, and watched the smoke and flames that rose to bar the McWiliams Special out of Denver. The Five-Nine skimmed across the meadows without a break, and pulled up a hundred feet from the burning bridge. It wes an old Howe truss, and snapped like popcorn as the flames bit into the rotten shed. . Pat Francis and his brakeman ran forward. Across the river they could see half a dozen section men chasing wildly about throwing impotent buck- ets of water on the burning truss. ‘“We're up against it, Georgie!” cried Francis. “Not if we can get across before the bridge tumbles Into the river,” re- turned Sinclair. “You don’t mean to try it?" “Would I? Wouldn't you? You know the orders. The bridge is good for an hour yet. Pat, if you're game, I'll run it.” “Holy smoke!” mused Pat Francls, who would have run the river without any bridge at all if so ordered. “They told to deliver the goods, didm’t they?™ “We might as well be startipg, Pat,” suggested Jerry MacElroy, who depre- cated losing good time. “There'll be plenty of time to talk after we get into Denver—or the Mattaback.” “Think quick, Pat,” urged Sinclair; his safety was popping murder. “Back her “p, then, and let her go,” cried Francls; d just as llef have that baggage car at the bottom of the river as on my hands any longer.” There was some sharp tooting, then the McWillliams Special backed; backed away across the meadow, lalted and screamed hard enough to wake the dead. . .orgie was tr—'-~ to warn the section men. ‘At that instant the door of the baggage car opened and a sharp- featured young man peered out. “What's the row—what's all this sereeching about, conductor?” he asked as Francis passed. “PBridge burning ahead there.” “Bridge burning!” he cried, looking nervously forward. “Well, that's a deal. ‘What are you going to do about it?"” “Run {t. Are you McWilllams?" “McWilliams? I wish I was for just one minute. I'm one of his clerks.” “Where is he?” “I left him on LaSalle street yester- day afternoon.” “What's your name?"’ “Just plain Ferguson.” “Well, Ferguson, it's none of my busi- ness, but as long as we're going to put you into Denver or into the river In about a minute, I'm curious to know what the blazes you're hustling about this way for.” “Me?"” I've got twelve hundred thou- sand dollars In gold coin in this car for the Slerra Leone National Bank— that's all. Didn’t you know that five big banks there closed their doors yes- terday? Worst panic in the United States; That's what I'm here for, and five huskies with me eating and sleep- ing in this car,” continued Ferguson, looking ahead. “You're not going to tackle that bridge, are you?” “We are, and right off. If there's any of our huskies want to drop out, now's their chance,” sald Pat Francis as Sinclair slowed up for his run. Ferguson called his men. The five with their rifles came cautiously for- ward. “Boys,” sald Ferguson, briefly. “There’s a bridge afire ahead. These boys are going to try to runm it. It's not in your contract, that kind of a chance. Do you want to get off? I stay with the specle myself. You can do exactly as you please. Murray, T what do you say?” he asked, address- ing the leader of the force, who ap- peared to weigh about two hundred and sixt What do I sa echoed Musray, with decision, as he looked for a soft spot to alight along the track. “I say I'll drop oyt right here. I don’t mind train robbers, but I don't tackle a burning bridge—not If I koow It,” and he jumped off. ell, Peaters,” asked Ferguson, of the second man, coolly, “do you want to stay?™ “Me?"echoed Peaters, looking ahead at the mass of flame lsaping upward —"“me stay? ‘Well, not in & thousand years. You can have my gun, Mr. Ferguson, and send my check to 439 Milwaukee avenue, if you please. Gentlemen, good day.” And off went Peaters. And off went every last man of the valorous detectives, excepting one lame fellow, who sald. he would just as liet be dead as alive, anyway, and de- clared he would stay with Ferguson and die rich! Sinclair, thinking he might never g€t another chance, was whistling sharply for orders. Francis, breath- less with the news, ran forward. “Coin? How much? Twelve hun- dred thousand. Whew!” cried Sin- clalr. “Swing up, Pat. We're off.” The Five-Nine gathered herself with a spring. Even the engineer’s heart qualled as they got headway. Hs knew his business, and he knew that if only the rails hadn’'t bucked they wers perfectly safe, for the heavy truss would stand a lot of burning befors giving way under a swiftly moving train. Only, as they flew nearer, the blase rolling up in dense volumes, looked horribly threatening. After all it was foolhardy, and he felt it; but he was past the stopping now, and he pulled the choker to the Hmit. It seemed as if she never cov- ered steel so fast. Under the head she now had the cracking bridge was less than filve hundred—four hundred— three hundred—two hundred feet, and there was no lon time to think. Wit a stare, Sinclair shut off. He wanted to push or pull on the track. The McWilllams Special was just & tremendous arrow shooting through & truss of fire, and half a dozen speech- less men on either side of the river waiting for the catastrophe. Jerry MacElroy crouched low une der the gauges. Sinclair jumped from his box and stood with a hand on the throttle and a hand on the alr, the glass crashing around his head llke hail. A blast of flery air and flying cindérs burned and choked him. The engine, alive with danger, flew like & great monkey along the writhing steel. So quick, g0 black, so hot the blast, and so terrific the leap, she struck her nose intp clean air before the men in the cab could rise to it. There was a heave In the middle like the lurch of a sea-sick steamer, and with it the Five-Nine got her paws on cool fron and sclid ground, and the Mattaback and the blaze—all except a dozen tongues which licked the cab and the roof of the baggage- car a minute—were behind. Georgle Sinelair, shaking the hot glass out of his hatr, looked ahead through his friz- zled eyelids and gave her a full head for the western bluffs of the valley; then looked at his watch. It was the hundred and ninetieth mile-post just at her nose, and the dial read eight o'clock and fifty-five min- utes to a second. There was an hour to the good and seventy-six miles and a water to cover; but they were sev- enty-six of the prettiest miles under ballast anywhere, and the Five-Nine reeled them off like a cylinder press. Seventy-nine minutes later Sinclalr whistled for the Denver yards. There was a tremendous commotion among the waliting engines. If there was one there were fifty big locomo- tives walting to charivar! the McWil- liams Special. The wires had told the story in Denver long before, and as the Five-Nine sailed ponderously up the gridiron every mogul, every con- solidated, every ten-wheeler, every hog, every switch-bumper, every air-hose screamed an uproarious welcome te C srgle Sinclair and the Sky-scraper. They had broken every record from McCloud to Denver, and all knew it; but as the McWilllams Special drew swiftly past, every last man in the yards stared at her cracked, peeled, blistered, ‘haggard looks. “What the deuce Have you bit into?™ cried the depot-master, as the Five- Nine swept splendidly up and stopped with her battered eye hard on the depet clock. “Mattaback bridge is burned; had te crawl over on the stringers,” answered Sinclair, coughing up a cinder. “Where's McWilliams?™* “Back there sitting on his grief, I reckon.” While the crew went up to register two big four-horse trucks backed up to the baggage car, and in a minute a dozen men were rolling specie-kegs out of the door, which was smashed in, as being quicker than to tear open the barricades. Sinclair, MacElroy and Francis, with his brakeman, were surrounded by & crowd of rallroad men. As they stood answering questions, a big, prosper- ous-looking banker, with black rings under his eyes, pushed in toward them, accompanied by the lame fellow, who had missed the chance of a lifetime to dig rich, and by Ferguson, who had told %he story. The banker shook hands with each one of the crew. “You've saved us, boys. We needed it. There's a mob of 5000 of the worst scared people In America clamoring at the doors; and, by the eternal, now we're fixed for every one of them. Come up to the bank. I want you to ride right up with the coin, all of you.” It was an uncommonly queer occa- sion, but an uncommonly enthusiastic one. Fifty policemen made the escort and cleared the way for the trucks to pull up across the sidewalk, so the porters could lug the kegs of gold into the bank before the very eyes of the rattled depositors. In an hour the run.wss broken. But when the four raflroad men left the t 1k, after all sorts of hugging by ex- cited directors, they carried not only the blessings of the offic!als, but each in his vest pociktet a check, every one of which discounted the biggest vouch- er ever drawn on the West End for a mionth's pay, though I violate no confl- dence n stating that Georgie Sinclair's w-s bigger than any ‘- o of the others. And this is how it happens that there hangs in the directors’ room of the Si- erra Leone National a vory creditable portrait of the kid engineer. Be: 18 paying iariff on the specle, the bank id for a mew coat of paiat for the McWilllams Special from ea- boose to pilot. She was the last traim across the Mattaback for two weeka