SHORT STORY,

Otago Witness, Issue 2179, 28 November 1895, Page 46

SHORT STORY,

THE SUSTEU OF THE STEAM. A rough board shanty served as a railroad station at Barranca, New Mexico. Within, the stationraaster was taking a siesta upon a cSuch draped with bright-coloured Navajo blankets. The stationmaster raised himselE on his elbow. The face of an old Indian, seamed and wrinkled, was peering in the open doorway. In good Spanish he asked to see the "head man "of the "iron way." Then he told the object of bis visit. He was a chief of the Jicarilla Apaches, whose reservation was 40 mileß distant. He had heard h!s tribsamen tell wonderful stories of the great iron way that the white man bad made through the land, and of the fiery monster that flew along its trail. He did not believe all the tales they told. Ho had come to learn if these tales could be true. It was almost time for tbe arrival of the express train on its way to Espanola. While awaiting its coming, the stationmaster tried to explain to the Apache how the engine (el vapor) drew the oars along the rails, but the old man either did not understand, or did not believe him, for he shook his head and smiled incredulously. " Por Dios 1 " ejaculated the savage, with a sudden start, as the shrill whistle of an approaching locomotive broke the silence, and in a moment more the " demon of the iron way " came tearing around a curve with its four passenger carriages sweeping gracefully behind. The old Apache took a position % safe distance from the track. Whatever his fears, he made a brave effort to master them. He was more than astonished — he was awe-stricken. He gazed with a bewildered expression at the great monster, now come to a stop at the station. Down from the cab of the engine came the engineer, a dumpty little fellow with a long-necked oil can in his hand. " Santa Maria ! " gasped the savage, nervously clasping his hands, "The Master of the Steam 1 " His eyes followad every movement of the engineer ; they shone with the light of adoration. So far as he knew, this was the only engine in the world, and this man the only master of it. When the engineer came back to his cab the Apache was -close behind him. He felt the hand of the Indian brush his clothing. The Apache had " touched the hem of his garment," or, more oorrectly speaking, the edge of his waistcoat, and there was an expression of gratification on the old man's face. Witb two shrill whistles, which startled the Indian, the engine and itß cars glided | out of the depot and sped downward to the entrance to Enabudo Canon. I The Apache tarried with the stationmaster. He watched the train until a curve lost it to sight, and listened until its last echo died away. Two weeks had passed and the Aoache had come again to see the " Master of the Steam." The stationmaster explained to him that the engineer would not pass that day, but that be would go by in the night ; that unless there were people to go on the cars " the steam " would not stop there at night. The savage without a word departed, slowly and sadly. • • m The moon shone fall and cleav on the New Mexican mesa, and the parallel bands! of steel that marked the course of civilisation's roadway gleamed in the bright light. Above Barranca Station — almost within sight of it — was a small clamp of treeß towards which two men were riding at a swift gallop. When they had arrived and dismounted one of them said : "Climb that telsgraph pole, quick, ftfld cut the wire; there is no tiaia to lose."

"We should have been here half an hou ago," said the first speaker. " I never got lost before cutting across tbe divide. Now take this crowbar and pry a rail loose ; I'll swing the lantern, and if they don't stop we'll ditoh 'em ; if they do, why, they oan fix tbe rail in a minute and go on." " How much money do you think they've aboard ? " "I don'fc know exactly; there's 50,000 dollars for the First National Bank of Santa Fe— that I know they've got, and that's enough for us if we get it." The man who had received the order took the crowbar and approached the track. He raised the bar and brought it down with force beside the rail. Just then there was a hissing, singing sound, as if some huge insect had suddenly flown towards them, and the man with the bar fell to the ground, full length across the track. An arrow was buried deep in his breast over the heart. I It was a rash thing for his companion to do, but he was a desperate and an impulsive man. His six-shooter flashed in the moonlight, and he fired into tbe brush, in the direction from which the arrow had come. jHe listened intently. He heard a groan, and started across the track. The shrill scream of a locomotive's whistle startlad him. He stopped for an instant, and then started towards his horse. H9 grabbed the big pommel of 'his Mexican saddle to swing himself into the seat. As be cleared the ground the hissing, singing sound was repeated. An arrow grazed his leg and struck his horse in the Btomach. With a snort the i aniinaj jumped aside, and t?be man fell heavily to the giound. The pained beast with the arrow in its side began to kick, and one blow from its heels fell upon the leg of the man. He uttered an oath and tried to gain his feet, but the effort was too great. His leg was broken. When he fell from his horse he dropped, his six-shooter. It lay some distance away, glittering in the dry grass. He tried to crawl to where it lay, but the .slightest effort made him cry oat in agony. Tbe headlight of the engine added but little to the brightness of the ecene as the great iron mogul came into view. The dumpty little engineer was leaniog out of the cab window. Suddenly he withdrew his head, reversed hi« engine, and applied the brakes. " What's the matter, Fatty ? " asked the fireman. " Man on the track," was the laconic answer. The engine stopped, and all the train hands, except the guards in the express car, went forward. The injured bandit, with his revolver a dozen feet away, the dead man on the track with an arrow in bis breast, and a crowbar beside him, the lantern in the bushes, the picketed horse, instantly made clear the fact that a propo*ed train robbery had met with fatal intei f^rence. As the officials stood beside the injured robber, who refused to speak, a deep groan came from the brush on the opposite side of the track. They" cautiously advanced in' that direction. The engineer made the discovery. Lying behind a little clump of brush was an Indian. The breast of his cotton shirt was red with blood. In his left hand he clutched a stout bow and in his right hand was an arrow. The engineer bent over him and recognised him. Ib was the old Jicarilla Apacho. The light of recognition shown in the dying man's eyes. As tbe engineer raised the Indian's bead from the ground a smile passed over tbe brown face of the savage. His lips moved : " The Master of the Steam ! " he said — and died — Richabd Linthicum, in the Weekly Sun.