Calumet K | Page 6

a
time-table. There was a train to Stillwater at eight-forty-two."
"That night?"
"Sure. I went over to the shops with an express wagon and got a
thousand feet of rope--had it in two coils so I could handle it--and just
made the train. It was a mean night. There was some rain when I started,
but you ought to have seen it when I got to Stillwater--it was coming
down in layers, and mud that sucked your feet down halfway to your
knees. There wasn't a wagon anywhere around the station, and the
agent wouldn't lift a finger. It was blind dark. I walked off the end of
the platform, and went plump into a mudhole. I waded up as far as the
street crossing, where there was an electric light, and ran across a big
lumber yard, and hung around until I found the night watchman. He
was pretty near as mean as the station agent, but he finally let me have
a wheelbarrow for half a dollar, and told me how to get to the job.
"He called it fifty rods, but it was a clean mile if it was a step, and most
of the way down the track, I wheeled her back to the station, got the
rope, and started out. Did you ever try to shove two five hundred foot
coils over a mile of crossties? Well, that's what I did. I scraped off as
much mud as I could, so I could lift my feet, and bumped over those
ties till I thought the teeth were going to be jarred clean out of me.
After I got off the track there was a stretch of mud that left the road by
the station up on dry land.
"There was a fool of a night watchman at the power plant--I reckon he
thought I was going to steal the turbines, but he finally let me in, and I
set him to starting up the power while I cleaned up Murphy's job and
put in the new rope."
"All by yourself?" asked Peterson.
"Sure thing. Then I got her going and she worked smooth as grease.
When we shut down and I came up to wash my hands, it was five
minutes of three. I said, 'Is there a train back to Minneapolis before
very long?' 'Yes,' says the watchman, 'the fast freight goes through a

little after three.' 'How much after?' I said. 'Oh,' he says, 'I couldn't say
exactly. Five or eight minutes, I guess.' I asked when the next train
went, and he said there wasn't a regular passenger till six-fifty-five.
Well, sir, maybe you think I was going to wait four hours in that hole! I
went out of that building to beat the limited--never thought of the
wheelbarrow till I was halfway to the station. And there was some of
the liveliest stepping you ever saw. Couldn't see a thing except the light
on the rails from the arc lamp up by the station. I got about halfway
there--running along between the rails-- and banged into a
switch--knocked me seven ways for Sunday. Lost my hat picking
myself up, and couldn't stop to find it."
Peterson turned in toward one of a long row of square frame houses.
"Here we are," he said. As they went up the stairs he asked: "Did you
make the train?"
"Caught the caboose just as she was swinging out. They dumped me
out in the freight yards, and I didn't get home till 'most five o'clock. I
went right to bed, and along about eight o'clock Brown came in and
woke me up. He was feeling pretty nervous. 'Say, Charlie,' he said,
'ain't it time for you to be starting?' 'Where to?' said I. 'Over to
Stillwater,' he said. 'There ain't any getting out of it. That drive's got to
be running tomorrow.' 'That's all right,' said I, 'but I'd like to know if I
can't have one day's rest between jobs--Sunday, too. And I lost
thirty-two pounds.' Well, sir, he didn't know whether to get hot or not. I
guess he thought himself they were kind of rubbing it in. 'Look here,'
he said, 'are you going to Stillwater, or ain't you?' 'No,' said I, 'I ain't.
Not for a hundred rope drives.' Well, he just got up and took his hat and
started out. 'Mr. Brown,' I said, when he was opening the door, 'I lost
my hat down at Stillwater last night. I reckon the office ought to stand
for it.' He turned around and looked queer, and then he grinned. 'So you
went over?' he said. 'I reckon I did,' said I. 'What kind of a hat did you
lose?' he asked, and he grinned again. 'I guess it was a silk