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 weeks before
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 the
despatcher'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 government money, 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 the whole 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."

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 a
freight, 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 of the 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 XX

AN 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 waiter and 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 the division 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 two A. M. until
two-fifty A. 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