A NIGHT OF TERROR.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXVII, Issue 1362, 28 May 1895, Page 7

A NIGHT OF TERROR.

This night, which will dwell in ray memory with vivid distinctness while life and reat.on sir* left to me, was in October, IS7O. 1 was at that time a telegraph operator in the little town of Deering. upon the line of the Pacific railroad, between the cities of D and G- . Sis uiile:> farther west was the more pretentious town of Paris, upon tho direct road to D . Deering was by no means a model residence. There were lager beer gardens, drinking Baloons and gambling houses out of all proportion to the more respectable stores and residences. We had had two arrests of "counterfeiters, and there was scarcely a day passed that there was not a brawl among the ruffians around us. Still, there was a school, and a timid little blue eyed woman had come from Vermont to teach there. How long an unprotected woman might have lived in Deering I can only guess, for Alice Holt had been there but three months when she consented to walk into church with me one day and walk out my wife. This was in July, and we had occupied a pretty cottage nearly a quarter of a mile from the telegraph office since our marriage. Being the only man employed in the telegraphic business at Deering, I was obliged to remain constantly in the office during the day and part of the evening, and Alice herself brought me my dinner and supper. There was a small room next the office, with a window, but only one door communicating with the larger room. Here Alice had fitted up a dressing table and mirror, a washstand and some shelves, where she kept pepper, salt and pickles for my office repasts. Tho two rooms were on the second floor of a wooden building that stood alone. With this necessary introduction 1 come to the story of that October night and the part my blue eyed Alice, only 18 and afraid of her own shadow, played in it. I was in the office at about 7:30 o'clock, when one of the city officials came in all flurried, saying: "Stirling, have you been over to the embankment on the road today?" The embankment was not a quarter of a mile from the office on the east side. "No, I have not." It was a special providence took me there then. One of the great masses of rock has rolled down directly across the track. It will be as dark as a wolf's mouth tonight, and if the midnight train comes from D there will be a horri ble smashup." "The midnight train must stop at Paris, then," I replied. "I will send a message." "Yes. That is what 1 stopped in for. The other track is clear, so you need not stop the train to D ." "All right, sir." I was standing at the door, seeing my caller down the rickety staircase, when Alice came up with my supper. It was hot, and I was cold, so I drew up a table, and opening can and basket sat down to enjoy it. Time enough for business, 1 thought, afterward. As I ate we chatted. "Any messages today?" my wife asked. "One from D for John Martin." "John Martini" Alice cried. "The greatest ruffian in Deering. What was the message?" "Midnight train." "Was that all?" That was all. Mr. Hill has just been in here to tell me there is a huge rock across the track at the embankment, so 1 shall stop the midnight train at Paris. The passengers must wait a few hours there and come on in the morning after he track is cleared.'' "Have you sent the message, Robert?" "Not yet. There is plenty of time. That train does not reach Paris till half past 11, and it is not yet 8. Yes—it is just striking." "Better send it. Robert. If there should be an accident, you would never forgive yourself. Send it while I put some clean towels in the washroom, and then I will come and sit with you till you can come home." She went into the dressing room as she spoke, taking no light, but depending upon the candles burning in the office. I was rising from my seat to send the telegram when the door opened and four of the worst characters in Deering, led by John Martin, entered the room. Before I could speak two threw me back in my chair, one held a revolver to my head, and John Martin spoke: "Mr. Hill was here to tell you to stop the D train. You will not send that message. Listen. The rock is there to stop that train —put there for that pur- ! pose. There is half a million in gold in ! the express car. Do you understand? i "You would risk all the lives in the train to rob it!" I cried, horror struck. "Exactly," was the cool reply. "Onefifth is yours if you keep back the message. The money has been watched all the way from San Francisco." I saw the whole diabolical scheme at once. If the train came, it would be thrown off at the embankment and easily plundered by the villains, who ■would lie in wait there. "Come," Martin said; "will you join ns?" "Never!" I cried indignantly. "We must force you then! Tie bin: fast." I trembled for Alice. If only my life were at stake, I could have borne it better. . But even if we were both murdered I could not take the blood of the passengers on the train upon my head. Not a sound came from the little room as I was tied hand and foot to my chair, I bound so securely that I could not move. | It was proposed to gag me, but finally concluded that my cries, if I made any, could not be heard, and a handkerchief ; was bound over my mouth. The door of the washroom was closed i and locked, Alice still undiscovered; 1 then the light was blown out, and the I ruffians left me, locking the door after i them. There was a long silence. Outside I j could hear the stop of one of the men I pacing up and down, watching. I rubbed ' my head against the wall behind me

and succeeded in getting the handkerchief off my mouth, to fall around my neck. I had scarcely accomplished this when there was a tap on the inner door. "Robert!" Alice said. ■•Yes, love. Speak low. There is a man under my window." "Are yon alone in the room?" "Yes, deal'." "I am going to Paris. There is no man under my window, and I can get out there. I have six long roller towels here, knotted together, and I have cut my white skirt into wide strips to join them. The rope made so reaches nearly to the ground. I shall fasten it to the door knob and let myself down. It will not take long to reach home, saddle Selim and reach Paris in time. Don't fear for me. When you hear a hen cackling under my window, you will know I am safely on the ground." "God bless and protect you," I said and listened for her signal. Soon the cackling noise told me the first step of her perilous undertaking was taken. It was dark, cloudy and threatening a storm, and as nearly as I could guess close upon 9 o'clock. I could only wait and pray. 1 was too much stunned even yet to realize the heroism of this timid woman, starting alone up the dark ride, through a wild country, with a storm threatening. Nine o'clock! As the bell of the church clock ceased to strike, a rumble, a flash, told me a thunderstorm was coming rapidly. Oh, the long, long minutes of the next hour! Ten o'clock. The rain falling in torrents, the thunder pealing, lightning flashing! Alice was so afraid of lightning! Often I had held her, white as death, trembling, almost fainting, in such a storm as this. Had she feared to start, with the storm in prospect, or was she lying somewhere on the wild road overcome by terror or perhaps stricken by lightning? Eleven o'clock. The storm over, though still the night was inky black. No sound to cheer me; none to make the hideous suspense more endurable. Would the next hour never pass? Once the clock tolled midnight. All was safe. 1 was drenched with perspiration wrung from me by mental agony one hour; chilled with horror the next. No words can describe the misery of waiting as the minutes dragged slowly along. In the dead silence a faroff sound struck a thrill of horror to my heart, far exceeding even the previous agony. Far, far away a faint whistle came through the air. Nearer and nearer, then the distant rumble of the train, growing more and more distinct. The midnight down train was coming swiftly, surely to destruction. Where was my wife? Had the ruffians intercepted her at the cottage? Was she lying dead somewhere upon the wild road? Her heroism was of no avail, but was her life saved? In the agony of that question the approaching rumble of the train was far more the bitterness of Alice lost than the horror of the doomed lives it carried. Why had I let her 6tart upon her mad errand? 1 tried to move. I writhed in impotent fury upon my chair, forcing the cruel cords to tear my flesh as I vainly tried to loosen even one hand. The heavy train rumbled past the telegraph office. It was an express train and did not stop at Deering station, but as I listened, every sense sharpened by my mental torture, it seemed to me that the speed slackened. Listening intently, I knew that it stopped at the embankment, as nearly as I could judge. Not with the sickening crash I expected, not preceding wails and groans from the injured passengers, but gradually and carefully. A moment more and I heard shouts, the crack of firearms, sounds of some conflict. What could it all mean? The minutes were hours, till I heard a key turn in the door of my prison, and a moment later two tender arms were round my neck and Alice was whispering in my ear: "They will come in a few minutes, love, to set you free! The villains left the key in the door! I thought of that before I started, but there was a man on the front watching. I crept round the house, and I saw him, so I did not dare be seen!" "But have you been to Paris?" "Yes, dear." "In all that storm?" "Selim seemed to understand. He carried me swiftly and surely. I was well wrapped in my waterproof cloak and hood. When I reached Paris the train had not come from D ." "But it is here?" "Only the locomotive and one car. In that car were a sheriff, a deputy sheriff and 20 men armed to the teeth to capture the gang at the embankment. I came, too, and they lowered me from the train when the speed slackened so that I could run here and tell you all was safe." While we spoke my wife's fingers had first untied the handkerchief around my neck, and then, in the dark, found some of the knots of the cords binding me. But I was still tied fast and strong when there was a rush of many feet upon the staircase, and in another moment light and joyful voices. "We've captured the whole nine!" was the good news. "Three, including John Martin, are desperately wounded, but the surprise was perfect! Now, old fellow, for you!" A dozen claspknives at once severed my bonds, and a dozen hands were extended in greeting. As for the praises showered upon my plucky little wife, it would require a volume to tell half of them. The would be assassins and robbers were taken to D for trial. John Martin, on his deathbed, turned state's evidence. His antemortem testimony sent the survivors to the penitentiary. Alice and I left Deering for a more civilized community the following year. Biit before we went there was an invi--1 tation sent to us to meet a committee ; from the railway company at Paris. We | accepted, had a dinner, were toasted and complimented, and then Alice was presented with a silver tea service as a I testimonial from the passengers upon I that threatened down train, the express i company and railroad directors, in token i of their gratitude for the lives and prop--1 erty saved by her heroism. —Montreal Star.