Ralph Pope - "$1,000 Reward — My Foot Race with a Telegram" (1877)

INTRODUCTION

Ralph Wainwright Pope was born at Great Barrington, MA on August 16th, 1844 and died on November 1st, 1929. He was the younger brother of electrical engineer Franklin Pope, and like his brother, was also engaged in telegraph engineering, beginning his career with the American Telegraph Company in 1862. He served as the secretary of the American Institute of Electrical Engineers from 1885 to 1911, and upon retirement was appointed Honorary Secretary for life. 

"$1,000 Reward" was published in the 1877 anthology of telegraph fiction, "Lightning Flashes and Electric Dashes". Typos in the original have been preserved.

References/further reading:

Engineering and Technology History Wiki: Ralph W. Pope https://ethw.org/Ralph_W._Pope

$1,000 REWARD - MY FOOT RACE WITH A TELEGRAM

It was one of the brightest of early spring days—the last Sabbath in April. Too early for the first green foliage of the new-born season, but following closely as it did upon the long, dreary winter months, the warm rays of the sun were so tempting, the artificial heat within doors so oppressive, that the temptations for a long ramble were simply irresistible.

I lived on the border—not exactly the frontier of civilization, but just outside the limits of the city of E----, N.J. [Chrononauts note: The city of Elizabeth] South of of me were the pavements, street lamps, modern architecture, and all the accompaniments of city life. To the north stretched the Morris turnpike—sparsely settled, with here and there a weather-beaten, low-roofed farm-house, which may have been at one time the headquarters either of Washington or some of his subordinates. It is, at least, classic ground, for this was the direct route during the Revolutionary War from the American camp at Morristown to either Philadelphia or tide-water. A stroll for pleasure instinctively led myself and companion in the direction of these rural scenes. First across the creek to a saw-mill, the quaint machinery of which was always a source of wonderment, not that its finish was remarkable, or its mechanical complication beyond solution, but that so insignificant a turbine wheel should have sufficient power to move such a conglomerate mass of eccentric gearings, saw-dust, bark, and cobwebs. The details of our ramble were, in the main, like those enjoyed by all who commune with nature. Leaving behind us the ancient saw mill, the dam, and pond, crossing the high way, scaling the moss-covered fence, built in " those good old days," we plunged into the outskirts of the woods, and were soon threading the underbrush on the lookout for any thing that might be of interest. Suddenly my companion halted. I glanced quickly ahead in the direction he pointed, and was startled for the moment upon seeing the prostrate form of a man perhaps fifty yards ahead of us. We approached cautiously, thinking he was asleep, but upon reaching him we saw at once that he must have been dead several days. Having in view the coroner's inquest, I noted the time of day—eleven o'clock—and with due regard for the requirements of the law, we left everything undisturbed and hastened to the city to notify the proper authorities of our discovery. Half an hour's walk brought us before the chief of police, to whom we gave a brief narrative of our morning adventure. He displayed little interest in our story, however, merely remarking that it was probably some tramp who had strayed out of his route and died in a fit. Being out of the city limits, he seemed little inclined to bother with the matter until I remarked that the clothes upon the body were sufficient evidence that the wearer did not belong in the ranks of the traveling poor.

My statement was not without effect. A prospective reward seemed to infuse activity into the corpulent form of the chief, and he at once ordered a carriage, and inviting us to join him, we drove as near the spot as possible, alighted, and were soon again standing around the unknown corpse, with no little curiosity to learn more particulars than we yet knew regarding the apparently violent death. The chief, like most of his class, was a man of few words, but a wise look, as if his waking hours were spent in the fabrication of theories. By virtue of his office and familiarity with scenes of this kind, he did not hesitate to turn the body over as soon as he had made a brief inspection of the surroundings. The face was decomposed to such an extent that recognition would have been impossible even had it not been the face of a stranger. He had been a man of medium height, heavily built, dressed in a dark business suit, with brown spring over coat and a silk hat, which had fallen from his head as he fell forward, and lay upon the ground six feet from the body. Upon his sleeve buttons was the single initial "R" in the old English letter, which was the only clue to his identity that could bo found about his clothing. Underneath the body was a Colt's revolver, with one chamber empty, and upon the right temple of the victim the dark purple spot which marked the entrance of the death dealing bullet.

"Suicide," was the general exclamation, as these developments were brought to light, and, strange to say, the chief had no theory to bring up in opposition to this spontaneous verdict. A further search brought to light among the leaves by the side of the body two dollars and eighty cents in currency; on the other side a pocket knife, a night key, and a few other trifles. The pockets were turned inside out, which at first glance seemed to indicate robbery and murder, but there was no other evidence to support this view of the case, so it was the general impression that the man while sitting at the foot of a tree emptied his pockets of their contents and then deliberately shot himself.

Meantime, the chief had been pondering over a copy of the New York Sun, which he found in a side pocket of the overcoat. The paper was folded in such a manner as to expose but a single column on the first page, which seemed at once to throw new light on the mystery. The following was the article:

THE MISSING CONTRACTOR.

"An advertisement appeared in the Herald a few days since, offering one thousand dollars reward for information that would lead to the discovery of the whereabouts of Henry Roberts, a wealthy contractor residing in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. At the time of his disappearance he was engaged on a heavy contract at Easton, Pa., and was supposed to have in his possession about five thousand dollars, with which to pay the wages of his hands employed on the job. His friends can not account for his sudden disappearance excepting on the theory that he has been foully dealt with. He is a man of dark complexion, black hair, and wears a heavy moustache. He is five feet ten inches in height, and was dressed in a dark business suit and silk hat. Any information regarding him should be sent to Detective Tully, at Police Headquarters, New York City.

A flutter ran through the little knot of by standers, and it was plain to be seen that it was the general impression that on the ground before us lay the body of the missing contractor.

Nothing further remained to be done excepting to deliver the body to the undertaker to be prepared for burial, so the little assemblage broke up. I nudged my companion, Charlie, and told him to walk home with me as I wished to talk with him. The other people, including the chief of police and the coroner, rode down in the carriage. After all had gone, I told Charlie what I suspected, aud the plans I had formed, based on the following line of reasoning : I was satisfied that the chief intended to get the reward, or a large share of it, provided there was any to be obtained. All the circumstances seemed to indicate that the body was that of the missing contractor, and if so, we were clearly entitled to the reward of one thousand dollars. The person who is first to give this in formation to Detective Tully will claim the money. Certainly none can show a better title than ourselves, but we must be quick, as the chief is wide-awake. It is now one o'clock. The last train for New York left at twelve. The telegraph office will not be open until five o'clock. If the chief sends a telegram at that hour it will uot reach police headquarters much before six o'clock. I propose that we foot it to New York. It is thirteen miles to Jersey City. We can do that in four hours, and if we are prompt in starting we shall have an hour left in which to reach headquarters on Mulberry Street, with a fair chance of being ahead of the telegram. As I was older than Charlie, and well versed in all the details of my proposed plan, he did not hesitate to indorse it, especially as there was a prospect of securing a good sum of money if wo were quick enough.

Stopping at our homes only a sufficient time to partake of a hasty lunch, and apprise our friends of our probable absence for the night, we started on our journey. We thought it possible that we might connect with a stage at Newark, which makes occasional trips to Jersey City on Sunday, and this would shorten our walk by seven miles. In this we were disappointed, however, and the only lift we secured was a ride on a horse car through Newark, a distance of about two miles. We reached Jersey City at about five o'clock, as I had calculated, and after a few minutes' detention at the ferry, crossed the North River, and at half-past five started from the New York side, making the best time we could to the Mulberry Street police station. Upon entering the building we were directed to the detectives' room, where we inquired for Mr. Tully. The officer in charge replied that he was not in, but gave us his address on Ninth Street. We were about conversing in regard to our business when a Western Union Telegraph messenger entered the room, and as he stepped up to the the desk and opened his book I glanced hastily at the address of the dispatch he was about to deliver, and read the name "Detective Tully." I darted quickly through the door, followed closely by my companion, and as we reached the street I told him we had no time to lose, that the message just brought in was for Mr. Tully, and the boy would be directed to his house. Our only chance was a foot race to his residence, and as we had a good start, I thought we might beat the messenger, he being one of a class who, although very nimble walkers, seldom break into a run. We reached the house in good time, found Mr. Tully at home and at leisure. lie received us very pleasantly, and listened patiently to our story. He seemed to relish our distancing the chief, and said that if we were on the right track we were entitled to the reward. He showed us a photograph of the missing contractor, but we could not determine whether it bore any resemblance to the corpse in the woods. Suddenly our conversation was interrupted by a ring at the door bell. Mr. Tully answered it, and returned with the telegram in his hand.

"You were just in time, gentleman, here is the dispatch from your chief of police," and he handed it to me for my information. I read as follows:

"E------, APRIL 29th.

"Detective Tully, Police Headquarters:

"Body found in woods to-day. Think it is missing man, Roberts, you advertise; come and identify. 

"John Keno, Chief of Police.

"16 paid."

We enjoyed a hearty laugh at his expense, and leaving our new friend apparently imbued with profound admiration of our enterprise, we started on the return trip, doubting the possibility of reaching home before break fast the next morning, but highly elated with the success of our journey, and the corresponding discomfiture of the chief. On our way to the ferry we made arrangements as to the division of our prospective reward and its permanent investment. Inquiries at respective offices of the Pennsylvania and Central Railroads seemed to banish all hope of our leaving the city before morning. Having been recently employed on the Central Railroad, however, I remembered that there was a milk train which ran down Sunday night, and returned from Jersey City as a fast freight with a passenger car attached. This train was largely patronized by deadheads — mostly railroad men returning to their posts of duty after a Sunday's absence. Although not supposed to stop at E------, I concluded to take the risk, so we waited at the ferry gate until the arrival of the boat from the milk train, and returned with it to Jersey City. My whole plan seemed to have been especial ly favored, as we not only secured our passage, but my face was recognized as a title to a free trip.

The car we had entered was pretty well filled with passengers, the majority of them being railroad men, with many of whom I was acquainted. Our conversation drifted to railroad matters, and it would have been evident to any listener, judging from the criticisms exchanged, that we were thoroughly posted on all the details of the road and its management. One of the passengers, wishing to avail himself of the opportunity to acquire information, casually inquired if that train ran through to Easton, and if it made a close connection with the morning train for Williamsport. He seemed rather disappointed on learning that he would he obliged to wait three hours at Easton. My thoughts being occupied with the adventures of the day, I could not refrain from asking him if he lived in Williamsport. Ho replied that he did, that being his native place.

"Do you know of a man named Roberts?"

"There are several of that name in Williamsport. I am personally acquainted with some of them."

"The gentleman I refer to is a contractor." I intended to say more, but a sudden change flashed over the countenance of my fellow passenger, and on the instant my thoughts reverted to the description of the missing contractor and the strange circumstances that had welded it to my memory.

There was no reason for my supposing that this was the man Roberts, although the description seemed to fit him in every particular. So, too, it agreed with the corpse in the woods. When we can almost grasp a long sought object, be it wealth, honor, or position, the attainment of which has long dangled before our eyes, hundreds of imaginary obstacles seem to intervene, dooming us to bitter disappointment. Like the intricacies of a dream, in which we ask ourselves is this merely visionary or is it real? and in our dream we indorse it with a tinge of reality. At last we awake, and it is gone forever, leaving a shadowy imprint of tantalizing joy or unspeakable terror, which lives in our memory for a day and is then filed away, a blank leaf in the archives of our life.

All day I had been reaching for my prospective reward. Every circumstance had favored me ; every incident seemed to confirm the fact that it had been honestly offered and fairly earned. Yet, even as I thought, I would warn myself that there might be some mistake, and here was the first evidence of it which I felt, but could not bring myself to believe.

The next day the New York Sun contained a full account of the discovery of the body, with a description of the articles found near it.

On Tuesday there arrived from New York a German lady, who had read the article in the Sun, and believed it to be the solution of the mystery attending the disappearance of her husband, A. K. Ritch, two weeks before. Inquiring for the chief of police, she was accompanied by him to the undertaker's room, where she identified the body as that of her husband, and substantiated her belief by a description of the articles which had been taken possession of by the proper authorities.

There now seemed little doubt that all difficulties regarding the investment of our reward had been removed, especially as further developments indicated that financial embarrassment had been the incentive to suicide.

The following item, which appeared in the New York papers during the week, completes the history of this strange coincidence so far as I am concerned:

THE WANDERER RETURNED.

"Mr. Henry Roberts, of Williamsport, Pa., whose disappearance a few days since caused so much apprehension among his friends, returned to his home on Monday last. Beyond the fact that he been in New York city, no explanation of his absence has been made public."

Whether the missing contractor was our traveling companion on the return trip Sunday night, I have never ascertained. I soon lost all interest in the affair, but have since felt considerable sympathy for the police officials who invent theories to fit their mysterious cases, and subsequently see them demolished by actual facts.

Henry Van Hoevenbergh - "Into the Jaws of Death, A Telegraph Operator's Story" (1877)

INTRODUCTION

Henry Van Hoevenbergh was a practicing telegraph engineer who was employed at the Elizabeth, NJ branch of the Baltimore & Ohio Telegraph company, where he held more than twenty patents related to telegraph inventions. This story appeared in the 1877 telegraph fiction anthology "Lightning Flashes and Electric Dashes". The typos in this story, of which there are more than a few, have been preserved. 

References/further reading:

Official Gazette of the United States Patent Office, Volume 31, 1885: https://books.google.com/books?id=4NM1AQAAMAAJ&pg=PA520-IA17&lpg=PA520-IA17&dq=%22h.+Van+Hoevenbergh+%22&source=bl&ots=1mXm7xbLDA&sig=ACfU3U3fvhwPo34cEj5AVA2LXuXbJSu25w&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjt9ojD8Z3zAhXgGFkFHXHPA8gQ6AF6BAgbEAM#v=onepage&q=%22h.%20Van%20Hoevenbergh%20%22&f=false

Electrical Review, May 8, 1885: https://books.google.com/books?id=vhcGFWwvvAIC&pg=RA9-PA10&lpg=RA9-PA10&dq=%22H.+Van+Hoevenbergh%22&source=bl&ots=IHSGP9Odg4&sig=ACfU3U0SJRCwBiXxSGX6AosPvf-3LWmpvw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjSp47C653zAhWVEVkFHZOzCzYQ6AF6BAgWEAM#v=onepage&q=%22H.%20Van%20Hoevenbergh%22&f=false

INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH, A TELEGRAPH OPERATOR'S STORY

"Want a yarn, eh?" said my friend, Erhardt, as he tipped his chair back and deposited his number sixes upon my operating table. " Well, I am afraid you have applied at the wrong window, young man. There never was a much worse hand at telling stories. I have had in my life but one experience which was at all remarkable, and I think I have told you of that."

"Your adventure with the highwaymen in the depot here? No, you have never told me about it I have heard the station agent speak of the affair once, but that is all. Tell me the whole story." Erhardt was an ex-operator and the cashier of the H— bank, a solid, substantial institution, the repository of the savings of the farmers for miles around, and which, in its way, transacted more business than many of its more pretentious city prototypes.

He was waiting at the depot to meet a friend expected on the milk train, which, as usual, was a trifle over four hours late. He had expressed a proper amount of disgust on the receipt of this information, and finally took a chair in my office to wait. It was a cold, blustering night; the wind howled without, and my fire (of old railroad ties) roared and leaped in its cast-iron prison.

"If I must wait here for that confounded slow coach, I might as well spend the time in that way as any. I like to hear myself talk pretty well." And he settled himself in his chair and lighted a cigar.

"It was some seven or eight years ago, 1867, I think, that I was sent to open the office here. I remember a little interview I had with the superintendent just before l started. I was a little wild in those days, and had just returned from a week's fun.

"'Erhardt,' he said, 'I will give you just one more chance. I am going to send you down to H—. It you behave yourself there, and show that you have any of the true stuff in you, I will give you a better position in time. If not, I shall wash my hands of you, and you will receive no more employment from this company.'

"He looked after me somewhat regretfully, I imagined, as I went out I think he was inclined to like me, but my conduct made it impossible for him to show me much favor.

"Well, I came down here and opened this office. Telegraphing was more of a curiosity then than it is now, and I found myself regarded as a sort of lion by the people here. I was then a first-classer, and could take my forty words a minute as easily as any one. Had it not been for my frisky habits I would probably at that time have graced some large
office.

I now tried hard to be steady and sober, and really succeeded very well. I struck up an acquaintance with the station agent here, who was a steady, thorough-going young fellow and an excellent companion. He was greatly taken with the mysteries of telegraphy. Very much to his delight, I offered to teach him, and had soon transformed him into a very tolerable plug. He read very well—much better than he could write. I very quickly saw that Mason had in him the material for an excellent operator. He had a keen sense of humor, and we were eternally playing jokes on each other, which were always taken in good part.

"About fifty miles further down the road was a small office in charge of a Miss Annie L—. I introduced Mason to her over the wire, and they practiced together a great deal. Mason was a little the best receiver, and somehow managed to spend very much of his time retailing to her that ineffable nonsense which is so interesting to the participants, and such idiotic bosh to outsiders.

"I looked upon all this with considerable amusement, not, perhaps, unmixed with a spice of envy. They took so much pleasure in conversing with each other that I felt called upon to interfere. But how?

"One day I fell into a brown study—determined to do something. The result of my cogitations was that I rummaged in my 'local' closet and produced an old antiquated Morse key which I had brought to H— with me, thinking, perhaps, it might be of use. This I proceeded to fix up in a corner under my table, connecting it to the main line precisely as my other key was connected. My table stood against the wall, directly under a window, and it was so dark underneath that there was absolutely no danger of discovery. Then, at odd times, when Mason was not around, I practiced sending with my foot. I found the process of writing in that manner not half so difficult as one would suppose. I had bent the circuit closer so that I could move it easily, and the rest was merely a matter of practice. I persevered until I grew quite proficient in this novel method of transmission. My foot-writing, so to speak, sounded remarkably like Miss L—'s style!

"It was not more than a day or two after I had decided that my foot was sufficiently versed in the new art to commence business, that an opportunity presented itself. It was after supper. The last train but one had passed. There were in those days very few passengers by the milk train, and H— was not a milk station, so Mason did not wait for it. He slammed his ticket window down, shut up his safe, and then came to my desk, leaned over, saw that the wire was quiet, opened the key, and commenced calling 'Ax, Ax, Ax—M.' Her private call. Now was my chance!

"'I, I, Ax,' answered my pedal extremity.

"'G. E. Isn't it a beautiful evening ?—M.'

"'Good eve. Yes, delightful. I am going to take a walk after I have closed up the office.—Ax,' I answered.

"'What are you doing this evening?—M.'

"'I have just finished my book, and have nothing to do until I close.—Ax.'

"It must be remembered that my mishievous foot took the part of ' Ax ' in this conversation.

"'Good.' (Draws up a chair.) ' Then we will have a little chat. "What have you been reading today?—M.'

"'The Moonstone. Do you know, I believe I have the gift of second sight ! I fancy I see you. Yes, I can see you ! You are leaning upon a table; now you have arisen. You have on a blue suit, with a black necktie, and gold watch chain. You had a straw hat on your head, but have just taken it off.'

"At these details, which were, of course, exactly correct, Mason's face assumed a look of extreme astonishment, mouth and eyes wide open, resembling nothing so much as an exaggerated exclamation point.

"'Now you have taken out your handkerchief and wiped your forehead. Your personal appearance -would be much improved by closing your mouth.'

"Mason shut it with a snap, then tried to say something and failed.

"'Yes, that is better. If you only would not stare so —'

"Mason siezed his hat and dashed out of the office as if the evil one were after him, not even bidding me good night.

"I laid back in my chair and laughed until I was weak. My attention was attracted to the sounder by hearing 'R' (the largest city on the line, thirty miles above H—), calling furiously. I answered and was rewarded by—

"'I wish to Heaven you would stop that nonsense and attend to business. Ahr, 21.— R.

'To J. R. C.—, PRES. H— Bank:

'The bullion has arrived. Do you wish it sent by milk train to-night ? I shall not send it unless I receive direct orders at once. Wm. K—,

'25 paid, 95. Cashier R— Bank.'

"I copied the message, inclosed it in an envelope, directed it, and called the freight-house porter who was in the outer room.

"'Be sure and get an answer, William,' I said.

"'Faith, I will,' he replied.

"I followed him to the door. The moon had gone down, and it had grown very dark. The station was about half a mile from the village, and I could just see the lights of the nearest house nearly that distance away. It was not built up then as it is now. The situation was certainly a very lone some one, but I did not feel at all afraid though now alone in the station.

"In about half an hour William returned.

"'Rather a lonely walk, William,' I said.

"'Yis, sur,' he answered. ' I came back across the fields and so shortened it.'

"Which, in all human probability, saved his life!

"I tore the envelope containing the answer open and read it.

"'You can go home now, William,' I said. The message read :

'To Wm. K—, CASHIER R— Bank:

'No; do not send the bullion to-night. I will give you further orders to-morrow as to its disposition. J. R. C—, Pres.'

"I had checked the message, and, standing by the table, had stretched out my hand to the key to call 'R,' when an arm was roughly thrown around me, pinning my hands to my sides, and I felt the pressure of cold steel on my temple.

"'Move, shout, or speak but a single word and I will blow your brains out,' said a harsh, determined voice in a low tone.

"I am as brave, perhaps, as most men, yet I confess I was thoroughly frightened—scared almost to death.

"I could hear tho muffled tramp of men in the room. One of them blew out my kerozene lamp, and turned a dark lantern so that it shone in my eyes and almost blinded me. Another man, low in statue, but short and thick set, with a long beard, and a mask over the upper part of his face, placed himself directly in front of me and produced a pair of handcuffs which he secured upon my wrists. My arms were then released by the man who had held them. He with the beard, who seemed to be the leader of the gang, then, by the light of the lantern, hunted over the table until he found the message, which he read and carefully placed in his breast pocket.

"'You are sure this message has not been sent?' he said, addressing another of the gang.

"'I know it has not,' was the answer. ' He was just getting ready to send it when we entered.'

"'Very good. Now,' he said, turning to me, 'I want you to understand that we are going to secure the treasure which was to have been sent down from R— to-night, and you will help us. If you have any objections this little persuader will silence them.' As he spoke he tapped the butt of a revolver which projected from his pocket.

"He took up a pencil and proceeded to write a message on a soft sheet. While he was thus employed I took occasion to glance around. There were eight men in the room, all of whom wore masks similar to that worn by their leader. I could just make out their forms in the dim light. A hand dropped upon my shoulder showed me that even the turning of my head had been observed.

"'There,' the leader said, 'you will send that in stead of the other message.'

"He held the sheet up before me. It read :

'To W,. K—, Cash1er R— Bank:

'Yes, send the bullion by the milk train to-night without fail. My cashier with a guard will be at the station to receive it. J. R. C—, Pres.'

"I looked down at my manacled wrists. The irons were heavy, and the chain connecting the two rings not more than three inches long.

"'I can't send it with these on,' I muttered.

"'You must!' said the chief, grimly.

"I meekly resolved to try. Taking up a pencil I managed to count the words and scrawl the check on the message with some difficulty. I was going to remark, from force of habit, that it should be written on a message blank under the conditions, but bethought myself in time.

"'Stop—what is that ? ' said the chief, pointing to the check.

"'The number of words and the amount paid,' I answered.

"'Is this necessary? he asked of the man to whom he had spoken before.

"'Yes, sir. It is all right. They call it the check, and put it on every message.'

"'Very well then, go ahead. This man is an operator; he will watch you closely, and at the first sign of treachery I will put a bullet through your head. Smith, stand out of range, or you may get a taste of it, too.'

"I sat down at the table—he pushing the chair closer. Opening the key I commenced calling 4 R.' I again felt the cold barrel o{ the revolver on my forehead, and it made me so nervous that I could hardly manipulate the key. 'R' answered.

"'That is good,' said the man addressed as Smith, who was the operator.

"'Send slow. I can't read fast writing,' he added. I proceeded very slowly, and Smith pronounced each word as I made it. The leader glanced alter nately at Smith and myself uneasily. It was evident that this was the crisis of their bold conspiracy. 'R' broke me in the middle of the message, wanting to know why the deuce I sent so slowly. I closed the key and took my hand away nervously.

"'What did he say,' demanded the leader.

"'He wanted to know why I did not send faster,' I said.

"'Tell him you have a sore finger,' said Smith. I spelt this lie out slowly, Smith reading it aloud, then went on and finished the message. 'R' gave a sharp and distinct 'O K,' which the renegade operator read aloud. The leader gave a sigh of relief, which I promptly echoed as he removed the pistol barrel from my head. He then unlocked one of the handcuffs, removed it, placed my hands behind my back and reclasped the ring around my wrist, thus rendering me perfectly helpless.

"There was nothing to be done now except to wait. The men disposed themselves on the chairs around the room, the leader still guarding me, revolver in hand.

"As I thought over the events of the last half hour I was filled with rage at the dastardly deed I had been compelled to commit. This money, which would now fall into the hands of these miscreants, was the property of honest farmers, widows, and orphans. And I had assisted to rob them! Better far to have sacrificed my life, if unharmed, how could I ever hold up my head again? Oh, that I had refused to be their tool! Was there no way to undo what I had done?

"Stop! The key under the table! Why had I not thought of it before? I opened it with my foot and made a few dots.

"'What is that?' said the leader.

"'Only some one practicing,' I answered, readily. He looked at Smith, who nodded.

"I called 'R' rapidly.

"'What did he say then?'

"'Pacticing the letter ' C,' sir,' I answered, glibly. 'Do you wish me to read aloud all that passes over the wire?'

"'No, it is not necessary,' said the chief.

"'I can read most of it,' said Smith, giving me a penetrative glance.

"I had my own reasons for doubting this statement. 'R' answered. I said, writing as rapidly as I could under the circumstances;

"'Has that message been delivered yet?'

"'Yes—long ago.'

"'Then go after it and stop it. That bullion must not be sent to-night.'

"His key opened and remained so for nearly five minutes; then it closed, and he said:

"'All right—the bullion will not go. What is the matter?'

"'The matter is that this office is full of armed highwaymen. I was forced to send that message with a loaded revolver at my forehead.'

"'Good Heavens! Wait a minute.'

"I turned and met the eye of the robber chief. I could not help smiling sarcastically.

"He was on his feet in an instant.

"'By G—d,' he said, 'if you have played us any trick, young fellow, you will pay for it with your life.'

"'He has not said a word,' remarked Smith.

"'It is well for him,' said the leader. ' It that bullion arrives all right you will be released uninjured. If it fails to come, or if there is a sign of treachery, your corpse will be found on the floor to-morrow morning with your brains spattered on that wall.' I shudered at this picture, which was beginning to loom up ai a black reality before me.

"'The chief of police is here,' ticked out the sounder, 'and wants to know how you are situated.'

"'My hands are handcuffed behind me, and a man sits at my side with a loaded and cocked revolver,' I answered.

"'Thunder! Then how can you send?'

"'I am sending with my foot on a concealed key under the table, which was rigged up to play a joke on Mason.'

"'What can be done to save you?'

"'Nothing; but capture these robbers if possible.  When does the train leave?'

"'In ten minutes.'

"'Then hold it. There are eight heavily armed burglars here. Better have twenty-five or thirty well armed men on the train. Let it stop just above, on the curve, and have them walk down and surround the station.'

"'R's' key opened a moment, then he said: 'It will be done. What will they do to you?'

"'I am doomed—will probably be shot the very first thing. But some one will swing for it.'

"'Good God!' said 'R.' 'Is there no help?'

"'No—none. I would like to have you bid Mr. (the Superintendent) good-by for me. Tell him I had resolved to live a better life. And tell Mason in the morning of the trick I played on him.'

"'I will—I will. Is there nothing else?'

"'No. I had better stop now or I may arouse
suspicion. Good-bye.'

"'What is all this about?' demanded the leader of the highwaymen.

"'A couple of students practicing,' I said wearily.

"A deep silence followed, broken at last by the sounder ticking out: ' The train has just left with twenty-eight policemen and citizens aboard.'

"'O K,' I answered.

"It would make the run in forty or forty-five minutes.

"A distant church bell chimed out eleven o'clock. Where would I be at twelve ?

"The time wore heavily away. I reviewed my past life. So far as I knew I had never harmed any one. Surely the manner of my death would atone for some at least of my sins. Whatever was before me I was prepared for.

"I had not a relative living. No one, excepting, perhaps, Mason, would mourn me. Well perhaps it was best so.

"'The train is due in ten minutes,' said Smith.

"Just at that moment I caught a sound which escaped the less practiced ears of my companions. The train had arrived and stopped at the curve!

"My blood coursed like wild-fire through my veins ; my heart thumped against my side as though it would force its way out. Every nerve was alive with anticipation.

"It came at last. Both doors of the station were burst in with a tremendous crash—a wild rush was made for the inside office—a loud voice exclaimed:

"'Surrender, in the name of the law!'

"'Betrayed ! ' shouted the leader. He placed the barrel of the revolver to my ear—the hammer fell with a dull thud. It had missed fire! With a curse he raised it in the air and brought it down upon my head—a bright flash passed before my eyes, the room sank away from me, and all was oblivion.

* * * * * * * *

'"I think he looks a little better, Dr. Thorne,' said a sweet voice. I opened my eyes.

"'Where am I?' I said. My voice was feeble and weak.

"'You mnst not talk. You are in the hands of friends, and all is well.'

"I soon found that I was in the house of the president of the bank, and that the young lady was his daughter, Miss Marion C—.

"Nursed by such hands my recovery was rapid. When able to get around I was provided with a clerkship in the bank, whence I have risen to my present position.

"The eight highwaymen were all captured, tried, and sentenced to various terms in the State prison. The ringleader received a life sentence, and is there still. We never found out how they obtained intelligence of the proposed shipment of the bullion.

"I do not consider that I did anything extraordinary, and I think almost any other operator would have done the same.

"Miss C— ? Oh, she is Mrs. Erhardt now.

"Well, there comes the train, and I must bid you good-night."

I clasped his hand with a firm grip. He was the first HERO I had ever met.

"That was a noble deed of Erhardt's," I observed to Mason, now a railroad superintendent, as I met him the next morning.

"Yes; did you get him to tell you about it? He does not usually like to speak of it. I consider him the bravest man I ever heard of."

Which were my own sentiments exactly.

Charles Barnard - "Kate - An Electro-mechanical Romance" (1875)

INTRODUCTION

Charles Barnard was born on February 13, 1838 in Boston, MA and died on April 11, 1920. He was a journalist and extensive contributor of fiction to several popular magazines, including St. Nicholas,  Smith’s Magazine,  The Century Magazine, Scribner’s Monthly, and Harper’s Young People. See the FictionMags link below for a more complete bibliography.

"Kate", or "– . –   . –   –   .", was originally published in the May 1875 issue of Scribner’s Monthly, and republished in the 1877 telegraph fiction anthology "Lightning Flashes and Electric Dashes", and was illustrated by Edwin Austin Abbey.

References and further reading:

The FictionMags Index - B: http://www.philsp.com/homeville/fmi/n/n00227.htm#A127

Prabook - Charles Barnard: https://prabook.com/web/charles.barnard/1080456

KATE - AN ELECTRO-MECHANICAL ROMANCE

CHAPTER I.

THE ENGINE.

She was a beauty. From head-light to buffer-casting, from spark-arrester to air brake coupling, she shone resplendent. A thing of grace and power, she seemed instinct with life as she paused upon her breathless flight. Even while resting quietly upon the track, she trembled with the pulsations of her mighty heart. Small wonder that the passengers waiting upon the platform came down to gaze upon the great express engine, No. 59. She seemed long and slender like a greyhound, and her glistening sides, delicate forefeet, and uplifted head were suggestive of speed and power.

The engineer stepped down from his high throne with his long nickel-plated oiler in hand, and the fireman clambered over the glistening heap of coal and swung round the great copper water-pipe that the magnificent creature might have a drink of pure spring water. The engineer looked eagerly up and down the platform as if in search of some one. Two or three tourists of the usual type and a stray idler were all to be seen. A group of big fellows were unloading mail bags, and beyond them the busy throng down the platform was lost to view. How lovingly he touched the shining arms of his great pet with the smooth clear oil, golden and limpid. Here her great cylinder, seventeen inches wide, and with a stroke of twenty-four, safely rested behind the sturdy buttress that held her forefoot so daintily thrust out in front. The head-light gleamed in all the sparkle of plate glass, and her shapely rods fairly glowed in polished beauty. On one side lay her boiler-feed pump, a finished bit of mechanism, and on the other was hung a steam-injector for forcing water into the boiler without the aid of the pump. How perfect everything! Even the driving wheels were works of art. From balanced throttle-valves to air-brake she had every device that American skill had produced, or that such an engine could demand, and her thirty-five tons of chained-up energy seemed the perfect expression of the highest mechanic art.

With a loud roar her safety-valve yielded to her pent-up vitality and filled all the air with clouds of steam. The engineer gazed proudly upon his noble steed, and then looked anxiously down the platform to see if any came whose presence would be welcome.

 

"A handkerchief is quickly flirted in the air."

The fireman swung back the great copper pipe, and the idlers suddenly withdrew. The last trunk was thrown in, and the engineer climbed slowly up into his house. He looked anxiously about the long platform. It was nearly clear, and he could see the gold band on the conductor's hat glistening in the sun.

Where can she linger? Why does she not come? 59 is here, and still she comes not. The gold-banded cap is lifted in the air. With one hand on the throttle-valve, the engineer glances down the long empty platform. The bell rings ; there is a hissing sound beneath the giant's feet; the house trembles slightly; the water-tank seems to move backward; the roar of the safety-valve suddenly stops ; the fury of the great iron monster vents itself in short deep gasps; clouds of smoke pour down on everything. They almost hide the platform from view.

Ah ! A dress fluttering in the door-way. Some one appears abruptly upon the platform. With both hands on the throttle valve, the engineer leans out the window. A handkerchief is quickly flirted in the air. He nods, smiles, and then turns grimly away, and stares out ahead with a fixed look as if the world had suddenly grown very dark, and life was an iron road with dangers everywhere. The fireman shovels coal into the fiery cavern at the engineer's feet, and then stirs up the glowing mass till it roars and flames with fury. The steam-gauge trembles at 120°, and quickly rises to 125°. The vast engine trembles and throbs as it leaps forward. The landscape — woods, houses and fields seem to take wings in a wild Titanic waltz. The engineer gazes ahead with tight-set lips, but his heart can outrun his locomotive, and lingers behind at the deserted way-station.

CHAPTER II.

THE TELEGRAPH OPERATOR.

With that perversity for which railroads are famous, the line did not enter the town, but passed along its outermost edge, among the farms and woodlands. This affected the life of the place curiously. At one hour the station was animated and thronged with people; at another it was dull, quiet and deserted by all save the station-master and his daughter. She it was who guarded the little telegraph office, received and sent the telegrams of the town, and did anything else that pertained to her position. She had a little box of a place portioned off in one corner of the ladies' waiting-room, where there was a sunny window that looked far up the line, and a little opening where she received the messages. She viewed life through this scant outlook, and thought it very queer. Were people always in a state of excitement? Did everybody have trouble in the family that demanded such breathless, heart-rending messages? Was it in every life to have these awful, sudden things happen? Life from her point of view was more tragic than joyful, and she sometimes thought it a relief to receive a prosy order to "tell Jones bring back boots and have mower mended."Sometimes between the trains the station was quite deserted, and were it not for the ticking of the clock, and the incessant rattle of the fretful machine on her desk, it would be as still as a church on Monday. At first she amused herself by listening to the strange language of the wires, and she even made the acquaintance of the other operators. With one exception they all failed to interest her. They were a frivolous set, and their chatter seemed as empty as the rattle of a brass sounder. One girl she knew must be a lady. Her style of touch, and the general manner of her work, showed that plainly, and between the two a friendship sprang up, though they lived a hundred miles apart, and had never met.

Finally, she took wisely to reading books, and the sounder chattered in vain, except on business.

Then there was John. She saw him for one hurried moment every day, and the thinking of it filled many a weary hour. He was the engineer of the express, and stopped at the station every afternoon at five and just before daylight every morning. She met him at the water-tank by day, and by night she awoke to hear his train thunder through the valley. She heard it whistle as it passed the grade crossing, a mile up the line, and as it pulled up at the station. If the night was calm, she heard the faint rumble as it flew over the resounding iron bridge at the river. Then she slept again. He would soon reach the city, and on the morrow she would see him again.

The happy morrow always found her at her post, busy and cheerful as the long day crept away, and the time drew near for his train. Oh ! if her window only looked out the other way, that she might see No. 59 come round the curve in the woods! The station was always full at that hour, and messages were sure to come in just as she wanted to close her little office and go out to the water-tank, where John waited, oiler in hand, to see her. Strange, that he should always be oiling up just there.

This time, she waited with calm face and beating heart to see if any stupid passenger had forgotten anything, that he must telegraph home. Fortunately, none came, and as the engine rolled past her window, she hastily put on her pretty hat and ample cloak and went out on the platform. A few quick steps, and she was beside the noble 59.

The fireman smiled a grimy smile, and, while he swung the water-pipe over the tender, he gave a lively whistle. The engineer tipped up his oiler with a sudden jerk, as if the piston-rod had quite enough, and then climbed hastily into the cab. There she sat on the fireman's perch, radiant, blushing, and winsome.

"She's a beauty—perfectly lovely, and a Westinghouse, too ! I tried to see you yesterday, and aren't you very proud of her? "

John thought he was rather proud of 59. She was perfect. Ran her one hundred and fifty miles yesterday, for the first time. The little electrician was charmed. To think that John should be appointed master over the Company's new express engine. Dear fellow, he had run that old 13, till she was ready to rattle to pieces. And now, what a magnificent machine he had beneath him !

"And everything is so bright and handsome. I know you're proud of her."

John thought he was also proud of somebody else. Then they smiled, and the fire man whistled softly as he pushed back the water-spout. How brief the precious moments!

John pulled out a little blank-book and began hastily to tell her about the new prize the Directors had offered to the engineer who should travel five thousand miles with the least expenditure of coal and oil. It would take about twenty-seven days to decide the matter, and then the books would be all handed in, and the records examined, and the prize awarded.

"And if we could get it!"

"It would come in very convenient for-"

She blushed a rosy blush, and, clasping his arm, she laughed softly, and said :

"My dear, you must win it. We shall want it for—our-"

"Lively, now! Here comes the Conduc."

What a friendly fireman ! How sharp he watched for the lovers ! The girl prepared to spring down from the engine when the gold-banded cap of the conductor came in sight.

"Run up to the siding, Mills, and bring down that extra car."

"Aye, aye, sir. Cast off the couplings, Dick. "Then, in a whisper : "Wait a bit, Kate. Ride up to the siding with us."

The girl needed no invitation.

"Oh ! I intended to. Here, let me tend the bell."

"Good! Do. Dick must tend the couplings."

With a hiss and a jar the monster started forward, while the girl sat on the fireman's high seat with her hand on the bell-rope and one little foot steadied against the boiler. Suddenly, John turned the valve for the air brake and reversed his lever, and the monster stopped. A deafening blast from the whistle.

"Where is that signal man? Why don't he show his flag? "

Again the whistle roared in short, quick blasts.

"Oh ! Why didn't I think of it before? "

"Think of what?"

"That whistle. You could use it to call me."

"When?"

"Why, you see, I never exactly know when you are coming. I cannot tell your whistle from any other, and so, I sometimes miss seeing you."

"I—have—noticed—that "said John, pulling at the throttle valve. "But, what can I do? If I gave two whistles or three, they would think it meant some signal, and it would make trouble."

"Yes, but if you did this, I should know you were coming, and nobody would think anything of it."

So saying, she stood up, leaned over the boiler, and grasping the iron rod that moved the whistle, made it speak in long and short blasts, that may be represented as follows :

"-.- .- - ."

"I see. Like a sounder. Morse's alphabet. But what does it spell?"

"K -.- A .- T - E ."

"Oh ! Let me learn that by heart."

"You must, John. And will it not be amusing to hear the folks talk? What on earth can that engineer be roaring about with his '-.- .- - .'"

The signal-man looked indignant as 59 rolled past him. What was the good of such a din on the whistle! Was the man crazy!

"You must write it down, Kate. It won't do to practice now. See how the people stare on— the— platform."

The sentence was broken up by John's efforts over the reversing bar, and the deeptoned gasps of the engine drowned further conversation. The monster backed into the siding, where Dick stood ready to couple on the extra car. Then he climbed up into the cab, and the lovers were silenced. The engine, with the three, rolled out upon the main line, stopped, and then backed up to the train. Kate, with a pencil wrote some marks on the edge of the window-frame, and with a bright smile she shook hands with the burly engineer, nodded to the fireman, and then sprang lightly to the ground.

"The girl sat on the fireman's high seat."

The safety-valve burst out with a deafening roar. The smoke belched forth in clouds, and while fairy rings of steam shot into the air, the train moved slowly away.

Presently, the girl stood alone upon the deserted platform, with the ruddy glow of the setting sun gilding her bright face.

The roar of the train melted away on the air. Still, she stood listening intently. She would wait till she heard him whistle at the next crossing. Then, like a mellow horn softened by the distance, came this strange rhythmic song:

A smile and a blush lit up her winsome face.

How quickly love can learn!

That night, the waning moon sank cold and white in the purple west, while the morning star came out to see the sleeping world. Kate awoke suddenly and listened. Was that the roar of his train?

"How soft and sweet the notes so far away! There! He has crossed the bridge. Dear John!"

Then she slept again.

CHAPTER III.

THE OTHER OPERATOR.

The last local train to the city left the station. The gray old station-master put out the lamps on the platform, rolled the baggage-trucks into the freight-house, and, having made the tour of the switches to see that all was clear for the main-line night mail, he returned to his little ticket den.

His daughter still sat reading like a demure cat in her little comer. The old man remarked that it was ten o'clock, and time to go home.

"Leave the key, father ; I'll lock up and return home as soon as I have finished this chapter."

The old fellow silently laid a bunch of keys on her desk and went his way. The moment he departed she finished her chapter in a flash, and laying the book down, began to operate her telegraphic apparatus.

--  --  --  --  --

No reply. Middleboro had evidently gone to bed, and that office was closed.

-.. -.. -..

No response. Dawson City refused to reply. Good. Now, if the operator at the junction failed to reply, she and Mary would have the line to themselves with none to overhear.

.- .- .- .-

Allston Junction paid no heed. Good. Now for:

-- .- . .. .. ..

Mary replied instantly, and at once the two girl friends were in close conversation with one hundred miles of land and water between them. The conversation was by sound in a series of long and short notes — nervous and staccato for the bright one in the little station ; smooth, legato and placid for the city girl.

Translated, it ran as follows :

Kate — "I taught him my name in Morse's alphabet, and he sounds it on his whistle as he comes up to the station ; but I am in daily terror lest some impertinent operator should hear it, and, catching its meaning, tell of it."

The other operator was all sympathy, and replied :

"I see the danger. At the same time, my dear, I think the idea is worthy of your bright self. It is perfectly jolly. Think of hearing one's name for miles over the country on a steam-whistle. I never heard of anything so romantic in my life."

Kate — "And when he passes in the night he sounds my name all through the valley, and I can hear it for miles. How people would laugh if they knew what it meant."

Mary — "They would, I'm sure, and it would be very unpleasant to be found out. Why don't you fix up some kind of open circuit and let him telegraph to you from the line as he approaches your station? "

Kate — "My love, your idea is divine. If I only had a wire."

Mary — "It would take two wires, you know, and a small battery. At the same time, it would not cost much, and would be perfectly safe."

Kate — "Would not some one find it out and be ringing the bell out of mischief?"

Mary — "No. You could hide the connections in the bushes or trees by the road, and his engine could touch it as it passed."

Kate — "Yes, but wouldn't every engine touch it?"

Mary — "Then you could fix it so that a stick, or something secured to the engine, would brush it as it passed. No other engine would be provided with the stick, and they would all pass in silence."

The idea was almost too brilliant for contemplation, and the two friends, one in her deserted and lonely station in the far country, and the other in the fifth story of a city block, held close converse over it for an hour or more, and then they bid each other good night, and the wires were at rest for a time.

About five one afternoon shortly after, Kate sat in her office waiting for 59 to sound its Titanic love-signal. Presently it came in loud-mouthed notes :

-.- .- - .

She closed her little office hastily, and went out on the platform. As she opened the door, two young men laughed immoderately, and one said aloud :

"Kate! Who's Kate?"

Found out! She hastily turned away to hide the blush that mounted to her temples and walked rapidly up the platform to the water-tank.

59 rolled up to the spot, and the lovers met. With one hand on the iron front of his great engine, she stood waiting him, and at once began to talk rapidly.

"It will never do, John! They have found it all out."

"Oh! I was afraid they would. Now, what are we to do? If I could only telegraph you from the station below."

"It wouldn't do. It is too far away. Besides, it would be costly, and somebody would suspect."

"Conduc!" shouted the fireman, as he swung back the great water-pipe.

"Good-bye, dear. I'm sorry we must give it up."

"So am I. And, John, come and spend next Sunday with us."

"Yes, I will. Good-bye, Good-bye."

59 hissed out her indignation in clouds of steam from her cylinders, and moved slowly forward. Then Kate stood alone again on the platform. The sun sunk in angry clouds, and the wind sighed in the telegraph wires with a low moaning sound, fitful, sad and dreary.

The next morning the express tore savagely through the driving rain, and thundered over the iron bridge till it roared again. The whistle screamed, but love no longer charmed its iron voice.

The electrician listened in silence, and then, after a tear or two, slept again.

CHAPTER IV.

LOVE AND LIGHTNING.

It was a lovely autumnal afternoon, and the lovers went out to walk in the glorious weather.

To escape observing eyes, they wandered down the railroad track toward the woods, where the line made a great curve to avoid a bend in the river.

After a while they reached a shady dell in the woods, and, taking down a bar in the fence, they entered its depths. Just here the various telegraph wires hung in long festoons from their poles. With a sudden cry of delight, she seized his arm and cried:

"Look, John. Just the thing. An abandoned wire."

"Well; what of it?"

"My dear, can't we use it? Come, let us follow it and see where it goes. Perhaps we may make it useful."

John failed to see how that might be. Kate was all eagerness to follow the wire, and returned to the track, and began to trace the wire up and down the line as far as it was visible. John replaced the fence rail and joined her. Then she began to talk in that rapid manner that was so becoming to her. He was fairly dazzled by the brilliancy and audacity of her ideas. They both walked on the sleepers toward the bridge over the river. The wire was still continuous, but after walking about half a mile, they found it was broken, and apparently abandoned. Then she laid down her plan. This wire had been put up by a certain company some years since, but as the company had failed, the wire had been abandoned, and here for perhaps a mile it was still hanging on its insulators. At the bridge it came to a sudden end.

"Now, if we can manage to rig up another wire from here to our station we can make an open circuit, and as you pass this point you can join it and ring a bell in my office!"

The two sat down on the iron bridge and fairly laughed at the splendor of the idea. Suddenly she looked very grave.

"The expense!"

"Ah! yes. Well, I'm willing to pay some thing for the advantage of seeing you every day. It's worth-"

"How much?"

"About $5,000,000."

"John!"

Two days after, a package came by express from the city, and Kate stowed it away in her telegraphic den till the evening. Then, when the day had passed, and she had some leisure, she carefully opened it and found a neat little wooden box with a small brass gong or bell attached to the bottom. A slender hammer hung beside it, and there were places for securing the connecting wires, an electric bell and 3,000 feet of insulated wire and a bill for the same. Eleven dollars.

"Not half so bad as I expected. As for the battery, I fancy I can make one myself. A pickle jar, some zinc and copper and a little acid will answer, and John can arrange the rest. Fortunately I selected insulated wire, as we shall have to carry our line through the woods to cut off that bend in the road."

Thus talking and planning to herself, she examined her purchase, and then carefully placing the bell and the wire in a closet under her desk, she closed up the station and went demurely home, conscious of the innocence of all her dark plottings.

The third day after seemed like the Sabbath, and was not. It was Thanksgiving Day, and all the very good people went soberly to church. The good people like Kate and her lover did nothing of the kind. John Mills, engineer, did not ride on No. 59 that day. He had a holiday, and came to see Kate quite early in the morning. She proposed a walk in the woods, as the day was fine.

"Did you bring the boots?"

"I did, my love, spikes and all. I tried 'em on an apple-tree, and I found I could walk up the stem as nicely as a fly on the ceiling."

"That is good; for, on the whole, I think we must shorten the line, and cut off that great bend in the road."

"And save battery power?"

"Yes. My pickle-jar battery works well, but I find that it is not particularly powerful. It rings the bell furiously when I close the circuit, but the circuit is not two yards long. What it will do when the line is up, remains to be seen."

"Where did you place the bell?"

"Oh, I hung it up in the cupboard under my desk. I can hear it, and no one will be likely to look for it there. But that is not the great difficulty. How are we to hide the wires that enter the station?"

"I wouldn't try. Let them stand in plain sight. Not a soul will ever notice them among the crowd of wires that pass the station."

By this time the two had reached the railroad station, and, opening her little office, they both went in. Presently they reappeared, each with a brown paper parcel, and, with the utmost gravity, walked away down the line toward the woods.

In a few moments they were lost to view round a curve in the road, and they turned off - toward the bank and sat down on a large, flat stone.

"The boots, Kate."

She opened the bundle she had in her hand, and displayed a pair of iron stirrups having an iron rod on one side, and a sharp steel point on the bottom. There were also leather straps and buckles, and John, laying aside his burden, proceeded to strap them to his feet. When ready, the iron rods or bars reached nearly to the knee, and the steel points were just below the instep. Kate meanwhile took a pair of stout shears from her pocket and began to open the other bundle. It contained a large roll of insulated copper wire, some tacks, and a hammer.

"Kate unrolled the wire as he took it up."

Then they started down the track, with sharp eyes on the abandoned wire hanging in long festoons from its insulators. All right so far. Ah! a break; they must repair it. Like a nimble cat John mounted the pole, and Kate unrolled the wire as he took it up. In a moment or two he had it secured to the old wire. Then up the next pole, and while Kate pulled it tight he secured it, and the line was reunited. Then on and on they walked, watching the wire, and still finding it whole. At last they reached the great iron bridge, and anxiously scanned the dozen or more wires, to see if their particular thread was still continuous.

"We must cross the river, John. The line seems to be whole, and we can take our new line through the woods on the other shore till we reach the town bridge." It was a relief to leave the dizzy open sleepers of the bridge and stand once more on firm ground.

"This must be the limit of our circuit. I wish it was larger, for it will not give me more than three minutes time. Now, if you'll break the line on that pole, John."

There was a sound of falling glass, and then the new insulated line was secured to the old line; the broken end fell to the ground and was abandoned. For half an hour or more the two were busy over their work, and then it was finished. It was a queer-looking affair, and no one would ever guess where it was or what it was designed to do. A slender maple-tree beside the track had a bit of bare copper wire (insulated at the ends), hung upright, in its branches. Near by stood a large oak-tree, also having a few feet of wire secured horizontally to its branches. From the slender maple a wire ran to the old telegraph line. From the old oak our young people quickly ran a new line through the woods by simply tacking it up out of sight in the trees.

Then they came to the wooden bridge where the town road crossed the stream. It took but a few moments to tack the insulated wire to the under side of one of the string-pieces well out of sight, and then they struck off into the deep woods again.

Three hours later they struck the railroad, and found the old wire some distance beyond the station up the line. Again the two-legged cat ran up the pole, and there was a sound of breaking glass. The old wire fell down among the bushes, and the new one was joined to the piece still on the line. A short time after, two young people with rather light bundles and very light hearts gravely walked into the station and then soberly went to their dinner. That night two mysterious figures flitted about the platform of the deserted station. One like a cat ran up the dusky poles, and the other unrolled a bit of copper wire. There was a sound of boring, and two minute wires were pushed through a hole in the window frame. The great scientific enterprise was finished.

CHAPTER V.

ALMOST TELESCOPED.

It was very singular how absent-minded and inattentive the operator was that day. She sent that order for flowers to the butcher, and Mrs. Robinson's message about the baby's croup went to old Mr. Stimmins, the bachelor lodger at the gambrel-roofed house.

No wonder she was disturbed. Would the new line work? Would her pickle-jar battery be strong enough for such a great circuit? Would John be able to close it? The people began to assemble for the train. The clock pointed to the hour for its arrival.

"He cometh not," she said. Then she began to be a little tearful. The people all left the waiting-room and went out on the platform, and the place was deserted and silent. She listened intently. There was nothing, save the murmur of the voices outside, and the irritating tick of the clock.

Suddenly, with startling distinctness, the bell rang clear and loud in the echoing room. With a little cry of delight she put on her dainty hat and ran in haste out upon the platform. The idle people stared at her flushed and rosy face, and she turned away and walked toward the water-tank. Not a thing in sight? What did it mean?

Ah! The whistle broke loud and clear on the cool, crisp air, and 59 appeared round the curve in the woods. The splendid monster slid swiftly up to her feet and paused.

"Perfect, John! Perfect! It works to a charm."

With a spring she reached the cab and sat down on the fireman's seat.

"Blessed if I could tell what he was going to do," said Dick. "He told me about it. Awful bright idea! You see, he laid the poker on the tender brake there, and it hit the tree slam, and I saw the wires touch. It was just prime!"

The happy moments sped, and 59 groaned and slowly departed, while Kate stood on the platform, her face wreathed in smiles and white steam.

So the lovers met each day, and none knew how she was made aware of his approach with such absolute certainty. Science applied to love, or rather love applied to science, can move the world.

Two whole weeks passed, and then there suddenly arrived at the station, late one evening, a special with the directors' car attached. The honorable directors were hungry — they always are — and would pause on their journey and take a cup of tea and a bit of supper. The honorables and their wives and children filled the station, and the place put on quite a gala aspect. As for Kate, she demurely sat in her den, book in hand, and over its unread pages admired the gay party in the brightly lighted waiting-room.

Suddenly, with furious rattle her electric bell sprang into noisy life. Every spark of color left her face, and her book fell with a dusty slam to the floor. What was it? What did it mean? Who rang it?

With affrighted face she burst from her office and brushed through the astonished people and out upon the snow-covered platform. There stood the directors' train upon the track of the on-coming engine.

"The conductor! Where is he? Oh! sir! Start! Start! Get to the siding. The express! The express is coming!"

With a cry she snatched a lantern from a brakeman's hand, and in a flash was gone. They saw her light pitching and dancing through the darkness, and they were lost in wonder and amazement. The girl is crazy! No train is due now! There can be no danger. She must be -

Ah! that horrible whistle. Such a wild shriek on the winter's night! The men sprang to the train, and the women and children fled in frantic terror in every direction.

"Run for your lives," screamed the conductor. "There's a smash-up coming!"

A short, sharp scream from the whistle. The head-light gleamed on the snow-covered track, and there was a mad rush of sliding wheels and the gigantic engine roared like a demon. The great 59 slowly drew near and stopped in the woods. A hundred heads looked out, and a stalwart figure leaped down from the engine and ran on into the bright glow of the head light.

"Kate!"

"Oh! John, I-"

She fell into his arms senseless and white, and the lantern dropped from her nerveless hand.

They took her up tenderly and bore her into the station-house and laid her upon the sofa in the "ladies' room." With hushed voices they gathered round to offer aid and comfort. Who was she? How did she save the train? How did she know of its approach?

"She is my daughter," said the old station-master. "She tends the telegraph."

The President of the Railroad, in his gold-bowed spectacles, drew near. One grand lady in silk and satin pillowed Kate's head on her breast. They all gathered near to see if she revived. She opened her eyes and gazed about dreamily, as if in search of something.

"Do you wish anything, my dear?" said the President, taking her hand.

"Some water, if you please, sir; and I want—I want-"

They handed her some wine in a silver goblet. She sipped a little, and then looked among the strange faces as if in search of some one.

"Are you looking for any one, Miss?"

"Yes—no—it is no matter. Thank you, ma'am, I feel better. I sprained my foot on the sleepers when I ran down the track. It is not severe, and I'll sit up."

"She fell into his arms senseless and white."

They were greatly pleased to see her recover, and a quiet buzz of conversation filled the room. How did she know it? How could she tell the special was chasing us? Good Heavens! if she had not known it, what an awful loss of life there would have been; it was very careless in the superintendent to follow our train in such a reckless manner.

"You feel better, my dear," said the President:

"Yes, sir, thank you. I'm sure I'm thankful. I knew John—I mean the engine was coming."

"You cannot be more grateful than we are to you for averting such a disastrous collision."

"I'm sure, I am pleased, sir. I never thought the telegraph-"

She paused abruptly.

"What telegraph?"

"I'd rather not tell, sir."

"But you will tell us how you knew the engine was coming?"

"Must you know?"

"We ought to know in order to reward you properly."

She put up her hand in a gesture of refusal, and was silent. The President and directors consulted together, and two of them came to her and briefly said that they would be glad to know how she had been made aware of the approaching danger.

"Well, sir, if John is willing, I will tell you all."

John Mills, engineer, was called, and he came in, cap in hand, and the entire company gathered round in the greatest eagerness.

Without the slightest affectation, she put her hand on John's grimy arm, and said:

"Shall I tell them, John? They wish to know about it. It saved their lives, they say."

"And mine, too," said John, reverently.

"You had best tell them, or let me."

She sat down again, and then and there John explained how the open circuit line had been built, how it was used, and frankly told why it had been erected.

Never did story create profounder sensation. The gentlemen shook hands with him, and the President actually kissed her for the Company. A real Corporation kiss, loud and hearty. The ladies fell upon her neck, and actually cried over the splendid girl. Even the children pulled her dress, and put their arms about her neck, and kissed away the happy tears that covered her cheeks.

Poor child! She was covered with confusion, and knew not what to say or do, and looked imploringly to John. He drew near, and proudly took her hand in his, and she brushed away the tears and smiled.

The gentlemen suddenly seemed to have found something vastly interesting to talk about, for they gathered in a knot in the corner of the room. Presently the President said aloud:

"Gentlemen and Directors, you must pardon me, and I trust the ladies will do the same, if I call you to order for a brief matter of business."

There was a sudden hush, and the room, now packed to suffocation, was painfully quiet.

"The Secretary will please take minutes of this meeting."

The Secretary sat down at Kate's desk, and then there was a little pause.

"Mr. President!"

Every eye was turned to a comer where a gray-haired gentleman had mounted a chair.

"Mr. President."

"Mr. Graves, director for the State, gentlemen."

"I beg leave, sir, to offer a resolution."

Then he began to read from a slip of paper.

"Whereas, John Mills, engineer of engine Number 59, of this railway line, erected a private telegraph ; and, whereas he, with the assistance of the telegraph operator of this station (I leave a blank for her name), used the said line without the consent of this Company, and for other than railway business:

"It is resolved that he be suspended permanently from his position as engineer, and that the said operator be requested to resign-"

A murmur of disapprobation filled the room, but the President commanded silence, and the State Director went on.

"-resign her place.

"It is further resolved, and is hereby ordered, that the said John Mills be and is appointed chief engineer of the new repair shops at Slawson."

A tremendous cheer broke from the assembled company, and the resolution was passed with a shout of assent.

How it all ended they never knew. It seemed like a dream, and they could not believe it true till they stood alone in the winter's night on the track beside that glorious 59. The few cars the engine had brought up had been joined to the train, and 59 had been rolled out on the siding. With many hand-shakings for John, and hearty kisses for Kate, and a round of parting cheers for the two, the train had sped away. The idlers had dispersed, and none lingered about the abandoned station save the lovers. 59 would stay that night on the siding, and they had walked up the track to bid it a long farewell.

For a few moments they stood in the glow of the great lamp, and then he quietly put it out, and left the giant to breathe away its fiery life in gentle clouds of white steam. As for the lovers, they had no need of its light. The winter's stars shone upon them, and the calm cold night seemed a paradise below.