Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 February 1915 — THE SCENERY SPECIAL [ARTICLE]

THE SCENERY SPECIAL

By AUGUST WITTFELD.

(Copyright.) "These stories of holdups and train robberies,” said Monk, "always remind me ot an actress who has been robbed ot httr glittering glassware. Yon never heard ot anyone doing much on the proceeds of historic highwaytog, and the man who attempts to hold up a modern express train may get away with the goods, but eventually the sheriff puts him on his visiting list.” "Right you are,” replied the pugnosed brakeman. “It takes nerve to hold up a train, but it takes more than nerve to pull the trick off successfully and retire on the proceeds. The men who possess all the qualifications requisite for such jobs generally land a sinecure behind the frosted-glass partition." < “Now you’re talking classical English,” commented Monk, "and expressing clarified thought in capsule form. I never knew but one man to pull off a holdup successfully, and then obliterate himself from the surroundings/ "It happened down South, where at one time the railroads were noted for their lack of speed, and where it was impossible to miss a train. All you had to do, if your train had left the station, was to follow it on foot, and you couldn’t miss it unless you overlooked it or mistook its creeping for the inertia ot a side-tracked section.” “Yes,” commented the pug-nosed brakeman, “I knew of a man down there who brought suit against the S. L. O. road to recover for damages sustained in bumping into the rear end of the moonlight limited while walking along the track. “The company tried to non-suit him by bringing a counter-charge of trespass ; but his lawyer threatened to attack the validity of their charter on the ground that they could not prove that they were running trains, and they withdrew their charge. “The plaintiff won his suit, and the company was ordered to upholster the rear end of their trains to prevent a repetition of such accidents.” “Well, to get back to the holdup,” said Monk, “I was touring the South, some years back, and at this particular time my objective point was Boonville. As I had lots of leisure, 1 decided to make the trip by rail. / “I caught up to a freight bound for that point, and, sauntering up to it, I swung myself aboard the caboose and proceeded to accord myself with a cordial welcome. I took possession of the lower bunk without waiting for the porter to appear, and was soon in the land of dreams. "I was awakened by the crew, who had come back to see if the rear end was all right lie asked me what the Stonewall Jackson I meant by intruding, and volunteered to punch my ticket or my head without fear or favor. “I'hypnotised him by making a few occult passes, and he extended me the cordial entente. It was pretty good stuff, even though it -was tax free and did not bear the pure-food guaranty.” "If yon will pardon the interruption.” said the pug-nosed brakeman, “I want to pay tribute to the railroads of the South. The southern spirit of hospitality is not dead, and the Chesterfields of the rail will give you the glad welcome or the G. B. with all the grace born of heredity and long practice. They will fire you from a train in such courtly manner that you feel like apologizing for giving them the trouble." "Your prognostication coincides with my observation,” commented Monk. “This Chesterfield of the caboose told me we were approaching Hog mountain, a moonshiners’ stronghold, noted for its reluctance to contribute to the revenues of the government and for the weirdness and grandeur of its scenery. “He said he had to go back to the engine and tend to his fire, and he advised me to take a seat in the observatory of the caboose and enjoy the phantasorama. “I took his advice, and found that we were traveling up into the mountain, and that the scenery was all that he claimed for it. I was taking in the scape, when I noticed a tall mountaineer making his way down a rugged path toward us. “He carried a long rifle, and was accompanied by a lean, lanky coon dog. He reached the railroad track just as we passed, and, spying me looking out the observatory window like a blooming Juliet scouring the horizon for a dilatory Romeo, he pointed his rifle at me and commanded: “'You-all throw np your hands!* “I looked at him in amazement, but lost no time in doing the upward Delsarte movement “'Say yon moth-eaten mountaineer,’ I shouted, 'what's the answer to the riddle you’re propounding? Have I unconsciously butted into a HatfieldMcCoy combination, or do you imagine this is a treasure train?* “ 'You-all stop that train, or Hl blow yoor.darned head off!’ he replied. “How the heck do you expect me to stop the train?* I shouted back. 'Run along, Reuben, and file your request with the engineer. He’s running this seelng-the-scenery special from the front end.’ - - “For a moment he looked as if he doubted my statement; then, lowering fats gun, he sprinted for the forward end, while I climbed down from my started out to investigate. *“As 1 stepped from the train. It

came to a stop, and when I reached the engine the mountaineer had the engineer and his man-of-all-work lined up with their hands as far from earth as possible. He*caught sight of me, and in a wink he had me doing the high reach alongside the others. “‘Say,’ growled the engineer, 'what you want to do? Steal this outfit? There isn’t anything on board you can take, unless it’s the coal in the tender.’ “ ‘Don’t you-all give me no sass,’ cautioned the tall man of the mountains. ’l’m going to borrow this train, and you-unsll have to run it for me.’ “Well, he made us all climb aboard, packing*uß into the cab, and ordered the engineer to start up. “ ‘Say,’ queried the engineer, with his hand on the throttle, ’aren’t you going to ride?* “ 'No,’ replied the mountaineer, T hain’t never been on one of those pesky things, an’, I ain’t going to take no chances. I guess I can hoof it and keep up to you; but don’t you-all try to run away from me, or I’ll plug you full of lead!’ “The engineer started up, and the highland holdup man had no trouble keeping up with us. The queer procession proceeded for several miles, then we came to a place where a track branched off from the main line into the heart of the wilderness. Here he brought the engine to a stop by pointing his gun at the engineer and shouting, ‘Whoa!’ “‘Now, you-all git down and move the track over so we can go up this ’ere way,’ he commanded, addressing the man-of-all-work. “That worthy lost no time in climbing down and throwing the switch, and we moved along the old unused track. " ‘What the nation does that elongated outlaw want to run us up this old lumber line for?’ growled the engineer. ‘There hasn’t been a train along here since the road stopped taking out timber.’ “‘Say, you train robber!’ shouted the man-of-all-work, addressing the patriarchal pirate in his most courtly manner, ‘will you kindly inform us whither we are going and why, and what is our doom.’ “ ‘You-all ’ll find out soon enough,* he answered. ‘Shut up!* “We proceeded for about three miles, and then the grizzled guerrilla commanded the engineer to stop. He told the fireman to fix his fires so they would last for a couple of hours. When everything was ready he lined us up In single file, with the lanky coon dog in the lead, and made us precede him along a path in the wilderness. In about fifteen minutes we came to a cabin in a clearing. In answer to a whistle from our captor, a woman appeared at the door. “ ‘Mandy,’ he said, ‘l’ve brought company for dinner. Rustle around lively. These gents is in a hurry.’ “In short time the meal was ready, and we all sat down. It knocked the wind out of me to hear that venerable villain ask a divine blessing on the repast, but it didn’t spoil my appetite. “After we had finished and the table had been cleared, our host procured writing materials and placed them on the table. “ ‘I want one of you-uns to write a letter,’ he said. ‘Guess you-all had better do it,* he continued, addressing me. -- “I expressed my willingness to accommodate him, and perpared to stenograph his dictation. “ ‘This here letter,’ he said, ‘is to be wrote to the president of the United States.* “I indited the superscription and waited for him to commence dictation. “ ‘Mr. President,’ he started, and then continued: Dear Sir: This here section of the country has been pestered by a lot of no-account revenue men huntin' for moonshiners. They made it onpieasant for us honest natives and we-all has had to feed them pretty darn often. To prove to you that these revenue men you send down here are no-account critters, I am sending you by railroad a keg of first-class moonshine whisky which I made in my cabin while your varmints was there eating my grub. I guess youall will find it all right, but there is no use you sending any more of them critters down here to get me, for I am going away. Please excuse the writing, as it was done by a no-account railroad man. Yours truly, [his] JAKE X. TOLLIVER. [mark]

“Quite an expressive epistle,” coot mented the pug-nosed brakeman. “Yes,” replied Monk. “That mountaineer had the art ot letter writing down fine. After I had finished my stenographic duties, that moonshiner produced a five-gallon keg and made us lug it down to the train. He told the engineer to see that it was delivered to the president along with the letter. Then he bade us adieu and told us to clear out. “We backed out of that wilderness, and eventually reached our destination." “And was the liquor sent to the president?” asked the pug-nosed brakeman. ' “Not in a thousand years!” exMonk. “Somehow or other that keg sprung a leak, an’ before we reached our destination every drop of the liquor was gone. If the train hadn’t run so slow, we might have saved some of it.”