ONE TRAMP.

Press, Volume LV, Issue 10012, 16 April 1898, Page 4

ONE TRAMP.

In the year 188—, in qne of the lesser English families, there occurred a domestic disturbance which resulted in sending the younger son forth into the New World. The heat of those who remained soon subsided, and their love, greater than their anger, sought repentantly and unremittingly for the wanderer. But America is a wide continent, and for ten years the search had been in vain. For Fred, ever generous and kind, was erratic, impulsive, ana proud, and ill-fitted to make his way alone in the great world, or to face the struggle of life in all its seriousness. And so, despite bis best efforts, little by little he lost ground, lower and lower he sank, until, at the date of our story, he formed one of a gang, half tramps, half thieves, which infested the northern part of Pennsylvania. . ~ . Gathered in an empty box-car these outcasts of society broach their scheme. It lacks but a day of Christmas, and on tomorrow's eve a fast Special will pass over the D.L. and W. Railroad from Buffalo to New York. It is known that this Special is to carry several money packages of great value; its baggage and express cars will be packed with much valuable merchandise and with many a costly present;' and its coaches will be filled with the wealthy and well-to-do hurrying homewards for the festal day. With dynamite placed upon the track so as to explode when struck by the engine, the gang plot to wreck this train, and then take fcbeir chances for rich plunder. The spot selected is at a lonely siding running into an immense gravel pit; fchie, they think, will furnish a convenient stage upon which to carry forward their inhuman tragedy. • Fred hears tbi* diabolical plot unfolded

with horror and dismay, for, low as he has sunk, down-trodden tramp as he is, his heart is yet too true to its fellows; his love for humanity, which has shown but little love to him, is yet toolstrong to permit him to enter willingly into that which involves the sacrifice of human life and the desolation of innocent hearts. He raises his voice in protest:

"But, Jinks" (Jinks is their recognised leader), "this thing isn't right; it isirt fair or square. These folks haven't done us any harm; mebbe some of them have given us a meal now and again. Anyhow, we haven't any call fer to take life just because we're out of a job; it's going too far. " "Shut up, you fool!" growled Jinks, "much they nobs care whether we live or die, an' why should we care, about 'em, I'd like.ter know. They'd hang us all if they could, an , a bite o cold wittles now an' again ain't all the dooty o' man to man, I reckon. Let 'em give us fair play, I cay, or take their chances." . . ,

The night and the day which followed was a time of torture tpjpoqr Fred. . . .No! he will be true to lumself, his mother, and 'his God; the brand of Cain he will not wear. But it ia not easy to elude bis comrades. Through .the day the gang have scattered far and wide in groups of two or three, and some have procured the deadly dynamite. . . . Born of desperation,. a plan flashes into Fred's mind, and with it the determination and strength to execute it. In the darkness, separating himself from the' excited members of the gang, he slips quickly down the gravel pit, ancf with feverish noiselessness and caution makes his way along its sides until he reaches the switch. Then the thunder of the on-coming Special sounding in his ears gives him the strength of two men, and with frantic effort he wrenches the switch lamp from its fastenings, and dashes madly down the track in the face of the flying thurideybblli/' wildly to and fro ebbve head.-emit raising shout after shout in the futility of desperation. Is it too late? Will they never heed his signal? Must this elaughter-be, and bloodguiltiness be on his head? The blaze of the headlight s full on him now, . He gauiers his strength together for a final effort, when crack! crack! crack! a volley of pistol shots comes flying through the air from the ambuscade pf the enraged desperadoes, at first stunned,-but now chagrined at this sudden imperilling of their design. Fred falls on the rails, hit on the' leg. But the engineer has seen the waving light. "Down brakes" has screeched through the night. Levers are reversed, and the mighty winged mass of Iron and steel, straining and spluttering in %as harness, comes to a complete stop within ten.feet of the body of a tramp. Fred has* not lost consciousness, and a word tells his story. The train-crew remove the fatal explosive, but they ecour the bushes in vain for those who placed it with deadly intent, and are obliged to content themselves, with reporting the attempt at the next station. They lift the tramp carefully into the baggage car, and while a surgeon from amongst the passengers examines the wounded limb, the mighty engine plunges forward once more. The tale runs rapidly from end to end of the long train, and varied and complex are the emotions which it stirs in the breasts of the hundreds of happy holiday travellers, as they picture and scarcely dare to . picture,. the terrible possibilities which have been averted. . . The passengers settle down for the remainder of the journey, some to meditate, others to pray, some to tremble in terror to their journey s end, otners to talk the exciting occurrence over in all its bearings, and tell of similar experiences. But one of their number has a heart which abounds more in love for others than do the hearts of his fellow-travellers. . . .In the baggage-car poor "Chirpy" is resting uneasily on a rough couch, formed among the baggage. He is conscious, but weak, almost to the point of wandering in his speech. The stranger strives to enter into conversation with him, and inquires if his wounded limb is very painful. ''No, not very/ Fred says; he is tired though, so tired, but he is glad he saved the train. His comrades? No, he will say nothing about them. His name? What does that matter? xhey call; him "Chirpy. It is not his real name? No, of course not; he will not tell his real name. Home? He has none, he is a tramp. It is many a year since he had a home. Mother? Ah, yes! he has a mother, and might he spend but an hour with her he would gladly die. He can see her now; she is praying for her boy; she was praying for him fast night; when is she not praying for him! And to-morrow will be Christmas Day. Does the stranger (now how they keep Christmas in England? The kind-hearted man smiles, and replies that he knows England well, and has spent many Christmases there. He had hoped to spend this one there too, but has been detained at the British Columbian gold-fields, in the interest of English capital, and it will be the New Year -wore he can reach home j now. "Will "Chirpy" not tell him in what part of old England is his native place? Fred is weak and lonely ; the stranger is kindly, and has won his confidence. Perhaps he knows the old familiar

scenes, and can tell him of the changes tbd years have made. Perhaps he has seen his mother, and can tell him of her. He wtll tell the stranger. What is the uh of for ever trying to hide himself? His native place is B—•, in—shire. Does the stranger know it?

The traveller starts sharply, but controls himself, and scanning the features of the tramp with intense eagerness, says quietly: "Then you are Fred M. ?" And Fred, too weak and too indifferent to deny, closet his eyes and simply answers "Yes. * Then the baggage-man and his mate marvel to see the elegant traveller bend over the uneven couch of this torn and tattered tramp, as, shifting the baggage, he gently raiies Fred's tired and unkempt head and pillows ,, it on his own well clothed breast. In low tones, which are full of joy, lie gives Fred to know that he is safe in the arms of his elder brother. .