@3Scene -- Hoosier railway station, Washout Glen@1 @3Night -- Interior of Telegraph Office -- Single operator's table in some disorder -- lunch-basket, litter of books and sheet-music -- a flute and a guitar -- Rather good-looking young man, evidently in charge, talking to commercial traveler.@1 @3JUNCTION@1-Station -- Pilot Knob -- Say "the operator there Is a @3girl@1 -- with auburn hair And blue eyes, and purty, too, As they make 'em!" -- That'll do! -- They @3all@1 know her 'long the Line -- Railroad men, from President Of the road to section-hand! -- And she knows @3us@1 -- the whole mob Of us @3lightnin'-slingers@1 -- Shoo! -- @3Brownie's@1 got us all down fine! Though she's @3business,@1 understand, Brownie she just beats the band! Brownie she's held up that job Five or six years anyhow -- Since her @3father's@1 death, when all The whole road decided now Was no time for nothin' small, -- It was @3Brownie's@1 job! Since ten Years of age she'd been with @3him@1 In the office. Now, I guess, She was sixteen, more or less -- Just a girl, but strong and trim, And as independent, too, And @3reliable@1 clean through As the old man when he died Two mile' up the track beside His red-light, one icy night When the line broke down -- and yet He got there in time, you bet, To shut off a wreck all right! Yes, @3some@1 life here, and romance -- Pilot Knob, though, and Roachdale, And this little eight-by-ten Dinky town of Washout Glen Have to pool inhabitants Even for enough young men To fill out a country dance, -- All chip in on some joint-date, And whack up and pony down And @3combine@1 and celebrate, -- Say, on Decoration Day -- Fourth o' July -- Easter, or Circus-Day, or @3Christmas,@1 say -- All @3three@1 towns, and right-o'-way Fer two extrys, -- one from here -- One down from the Knob. Well, then Roachdale is herself again! Like @3last@1 Christmas, when all three Towns collogued, and far and near Billed things for a Christmas-Tree At old Roachdale. Now mark here: -- I had leave, last Holidays, And was goin' home, you see, Two weeks -- and the Company Sent a man to fill my place -- An old @3chum@1 of mine, in fact, I'd been coaxin' to arrange Just to have his dressin'-case And his latest music packed And come on here for a change. He'd been here to visit me Once before -- in @3summer then,@1 -- Come to stay "just two or three Days," he said -- and he stayed @3ten.@1 When he left here @3then@1 -- Well, he Was clean gone on Brownie -- wild And plum silly as a child! Name -- MacClintock. Most young men Stood 'way back when Mac was round. Fact is, he was @3fine,@1 you know -- Silver-tenor voice that went Up among the stars, and sent The girls back to higher-tone' Dreams than they had ever known! A good-looker -- stylish -- slim -- And wore clothes that no man downed -- Yes, and smoked a good cigar And smelt right; and used to blow A smooth flute -- And a @3guitar@1 No man heard till he heard @3him!@1 -- Say, some midnight serenade -- @3Oomh!@1 how drippin'-sweet he played! @3Boys,@1 though, wasn't stuck on Mac So blame' much, -- especially @3Roachdale@1 operator. -- He Kind o' had the inside-track On @3all@1 of us, as to who Got most talk from Brownie, when She had nothin' else to do But to buzz us now and then Up and down the wires, you know; And we'd jolly back again 'Bout some dance -- and "Would she go With @3us@1 or her @3Roachdale@1 beau?" (Boys all called him "Roachy" -- see?) -- Wire her, "Was she 'Happy now'?" And "How's 'Roachy,' anyhow?" Or, "Say, Brownie, who's the jay You was stringin' yesterday?" And I've sat here when this key Shot me like a battery, Just 'cause Brownie wired to say That "That box o' fruit, or flowers, That 'I'd' sent her came O. K., -- To beguile the weary hours Till we met again!" -- Then break Short off -- for the Roachdale cuss Callin' her, and on to us. 'Course @3he'd@1 sent 'em -- no mistake! @3Lord, she kept that man awake!@1 Yet he kept @3her@1 fooled: His cheek And pure goody-goody gall Hid from @3her@1 -- if not from all -- A quite vivid @3"yellow streak."@1 -- Awful' jealous, don't you see? -- Felt he had a @3right@1 to be, Maybe, bein' @3engaged.@1 -- And they @3Were@1 engaged -- that's straight. -- "G A!" * -- Well: MacClintock when @3he@1 come Down from York to take this job, @3And stopped off at Pilot Knob For "instructions,"@1 there was some Indications of unrest At @3Roachdale@1 right from the start, -- "Roachy" wasn't @3awful'@1 smart, Maybe, but he done his best -- With such brains as he possessed. -- Anyway he made @3one@1 play That was brilliant -- of its kind -- And @3maintained@1 it. -- From the day That MacClintock took my key And I left on Number Three, "Roachy" opened up on Mac And just @3loved@1 him! -- purred and whined 'Cross the wires how tickled he Was to hear that @3Mac@1 was back, And how glad the @3girls@1 would be And the young-folks everywhere, As he'd reason to believe, -- And how, even @3then,@1 they were "Shapin' things at old Roachdale For a blow-out, Christmas-eve, That would turn all others pale! -- First a @3Christmas-Tree,@1 at old Armory Hall, and then the floor Cleared, and --" "Come in out the cold!" Breaks MacClintock -- "Don't I know? -- Dancin', say, from ten till four -- Maybe @3daylight@1 'fore we go! -- With Ben Custer's Band to pour Music out in swirlin' rills And back-tides o' waltz-quadrilles Level with the window-sills! -- Roachy, you're a @3bird!@1 -- But, say, -- How am I to get away From the office here?" Well, then "Roachy" wires him back again: -- "That's O. K., -- I call a @3man@1 Up from @3Dunkirk;@1 got it all Fixed. -- So Christmas-eve, you can Collar the seven-thirty train For Roachdale -- the same that @3he@1 Comes on. -- Leave your office-key In the door: he'll do the rest." Then "old Roachy" rattled through A long list of who'd be there, -- Boys and girls that Mac knew best -- @3One@1 name, though, that had no bare Little mention anywhere! Then he shut off, as he said, For his supper. . . . About ten Minutes @3Mac@1 was @3called again@1 -- With a click that flushed him red As the signal-flag -- and then Came like music in the air -- "Yes, and @3Brownie@1 will be there!" Folks tell @3me,@1 that Christmas-Tree, Dance and whole blame' jamboree, Looked like it was goin' to be A blood-curdlin' tragedy. People 'long the @3roads,@1 you know -- Well, they've had experience With all sorts of @3accidents,@1 And they've learnt @3some@1 things, -- and so When an accident or wreck Happens, they know @3some man's "break"@1 Is responsible, and hence -- Well -- they want to @3break@1 his @3neck!@1 So it happened, Christmas-eve, At @3Roachdale,@1 -- MacClintock there Cocked back in the barber-chair At eight-forty, and no train Down yet from the Knob, and it Due at eight-ten sharp. The strain Was a-showin' quite a bit On the general crowd; and when Purty soon the rumor spread -- @3Wreck@1 had probably occurred -- Some one said somebody said That he'd heard somebody say, @3"Operator@1 at the @3Glen@1 Was to blame for the delay -- Fact is, he had run away From his office -- Even then Was in @3Roachdale@1 -- there to be Present at the Christmas-Tree And the 'shindig' afterward, Wreck or @3no@1 wreck!" . . . @3Mac@1 sat up, Whiter than the shavin'-cup. . . . Back of @3his@1 face in the glass He stared into he could see A big crowd there -- and, alas! Not in all that threatening throng One friend's face of sympathy -- One friend knowin' right from wrong! He got on his feet -- erect -- Nervy; -- faced the crowd, and then Said: @3"I@1 am MacClintock from The Glen-office, and I've come To your Christmas festival By request of one that all Of you honor, gentlemen, -- Your most trusted citizen -- Your own operator here At the station-office -- where He'll acquit @3me@1 of neglect, And will make it plain and clear Who the sub. is he sent there To my office at the Glen -- Or, if @3not@1 one there, -- who then Is indeed the criminal? . . . I am going now to call On him. -- Join me, gentlemen -- I insist you come with me." Well, a sense of some respect Caught 'em, -- and they followed, all, Silently, though sullenly. Fortunately, half a square Brought 'em to the station and The crowd there that packed the small Waiting-room on every hand, With a kind o' general stand Round the half-door window through Which "old Roachy," in full view, Sat there, smilin' in a sick Sort o' way, yet gloryin', too, In the work he had to do. Mac worked closer, breathin' quick At the muttered talk of some Of the toughest of the crowd; Till, above the growl and hum Of the ominous voices, he Heard the click of "Roachy's" key, -- And his heart beat 'most out 'loud As he heard him wirin': -- "Yes, Trouble down at @3Glen,@1 I guess. Glen's fool-operator @3here@1 -- What's-his-name? -- MacClintock. -- Fear Mob will hang him. -- Mob knows he Left his office. -- And no doubt Wreck there on account of it. People worked-up here -- and shout Now and then to 'Take him out!' -- 'Hang him!' -- and so forth." . . . Mac lit Through the half-door window at "Roachy's" table like a cat: -- @3He@1 was @3white,@1 but @3"Roachy's"@1 face Made a brunette out o' @3his!@1. . . Mac had pinned him in his chair Helpless -- and a message there Clickin' back from Pilot Knob. -- "Tell these people, word-for-word," Mac says, "what this message is! -- @3"Tell 'em. --Hear me?"@1 "Roachy" heard And obeyed: -- "'We sized your job On MacClintock. -- @3Knob@1 here sent A sub. there. -- And all O. K. At Glen-office. -- Tie-up @3here@1 -- One hour's wait -- all fault of @3mine@1. @3"Hang MacClintock,"@1 did you say? @3"Hang@1 MacClintock?" -- Certainly, -- Hang him on the Christmas-Tree, With a label on for @3me,@1 -- I'll be there on Number Nine.'" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOHRAB AND RUSTUM by MATTHEW ARNOLD TO THE MOCKINGBIRD by RICHARD HENRY WILDE A RENOUNCING OF LOVE by THOMAS WYATT SONG: 5 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AMBITION by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL |