yet the thought that I might have prevented it by refusing to take the engine out tormented me so that I could hardly sleep nights. My appetite failed and I became thin, weak, and nervous. Finally, during a conversation with my wife, I promised her never to touch a locomotive throttle again, and, with one exception, I never have.
AN ENCOUNTER WITH A DRUNKEN ENGINEER.
The circumstances of this one exception were peculiar. I had now become a conductor, and I was called on one day to take out a special,—a frequent occurrence, as the land speculators were in the habit of giving free excursions occasionally to prospective purchasers. It was a hot day, and when I went ahead to speak to the engineer and see if he was ready, I noticed that he looked flushed and warm, but paid no attention, as it was quite natural that he should on such a day. We had a little talk concerning the trains and where we had better side-track, and it was agreed that we would not be able to make more than ten miles before we would have to take the switch for the first inward-bound train. When the passengers were all on I gave the signal and he pulled out with a jerk, slipping his drivers in a way that was irritating to an old engineer like myself. Before we were clear of the yard he was going at a forty-mile gait and the cars were thumping over the frogs and switches at a great rate. I wondered what he was going so fast for, because we had plenty of time to get to the switch and there was no possibility of our going any further. When we struck out into the open country the speed increased until I remarked to the baggage-master that the engineer seemed to be in an immense hurry, I looked at my watch, made a rapid mental calculation, and decided that he was trying for the next siding, eight miles further along. If he kept up the gait that he was going,—and it was an open question whether he could or not,—he would reach the switch five minutes before the opposing train was due, which was not time enough; besides, a thousand and one things might happen to reduce his speed. And if the steam dropped five pounds it would knock him out. What could he be thinking of? I wondered.
We were within an eighth of a mile of the near end of the siding and I pulled the bell; but he passed the switch without slackening his speed, and paid not the slightest attention to my signal. I stepped into the smoker and pulled the air-valve wide open that set the Westinghouse brakes, and brought the train to a stand-still just as the last car cleared the switch.
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"HE … NEARLY SQUELCHED THE BREATH OUT OF MY BODY AS HE FELL ON TOP OF ME."
