Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 19 expected him to recognize me, but he came forward to speak at once and seemed anxious to explain his slight tremor at Odgen. “You were surprised,” he said, “to see me jump away from the engine. I would have been mightly surprised myself, if anyone had told me three months ago I would ever do such a thing. But that was before I started running 2001.” Ke paused and looked at me pitifully. “You seemed somewhat nervous,” I said. “Tm a nervous wreck,” he replied; “and I’m getting worse every day. I’ve seen a doctor, but he only told me there was something preying on my mdnd and there is. It’s right here” —and he pointed to the big steel monster beside him. “Is 2001 an outlaw engine?” I asked: “has it killed many people?” “It has never killed a man,” he replied solemnJ} . “It’s a new engine and I was the first man to take it cut. I have never had an accident with it, but the very first day I climbed in the cab I had an idea there v as something wron c That idea has been getting stronger ever since, and 3. ou see what I am now — my work is one long niglitmiare. I have seen human devils, but it seems to me that engine is more devil- ish than any person I ever knew.” “Do you mean that you expect the locomotive to drag the train into a terrible smashup?” “No,” he said, “No. 2001 is not fated to kill a trainload. Let me tell you, sir, that engine has intelligence”— here he lowered his voice and spoke slowly to impress me with his words — “and it wants to mangle me alone!” Then he turned away in a tremble and to hide his emotion climbed back in the cab, although I could see it took an affort for him to mount the steps of 2001. As I stopped to wonder at this monomania, this strange self-delusion, and reflected

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18 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL ©iiF Mun ®iti| (§nt T T was in the station at Ogden on a Saturday night, that I first saw him. He was oiling the wheels and machin- of bis charge, whDe number 2001 steamed sullenly and cast a greenish glare on the rails ahead. In admiring the massive proportions of the big passenger locomotive, I thought how small and puny he looked by its side. No. 2001 as if to express its contempt for the creature at its wheels gave a louder hiss than usual, and I was astonished to see the man recoil a few inches. For an engineer v hose nerves are expected to be of iron amid the horrors of a head-on collision, such a motion was indeed unusual. Fie saw my surprise, and turning to me said apologetically: “You don’t know this engine, sir, she’s a bad one.” I was half inclined to laugh, but the engineer relieved my embarrassment by climbing dnto the cab and putting in motion the huge driving-wheels of No. 2001. Although I had been amused by the grave words of the man, I began fancying, as the long train of Pullmans rolled out of the station, that the machine at their head really had a malignant appearnce. When the green lights of the rear car were gone in the distance, I turned away with the thought that the brains of all railroad men from the very nature of their calling must be haunted v ith strange images. A few weeks later I was travelling on the same road, since my business of a drummer kept me in that territory, when the train stopped in the open country because of a freight v reck on the track, and not being ready to sleep yet, I went to the head of the train where I found 2001 looming up in the darkness with the same man by the cab. I had not

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20 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL that it was not safe to entrust the lives of all the people on the limited to such a man as this, I glanced at 2001 for a moment. It stood there so massively black against the black sky, the light of its firebox gleamed so luridly on the dark- ness, its complicated machinery only suggested by flashes of steel here and there, conveyed such an idea of grinding and crushing, that I actually felt an oppressive sense of the power of the huge machine, a dread of the malice that the engineer supposed to be lurking in that great mass of metal. I could see that the man’s imagination was wearing away his reason, but though I knew his fear was a form of insanity, I could at that moment, sympathize with the mental suffering which he endured. When I returned to the sleeper I began talking with the conductor who seemed an old veteran of the rails. He told me that Bob Williams had been losing his ability as an engineer ever since he took charge of 2001, and that he seemed pos- sessed with the idea the engine wanted to kill him. “Bob used to be the best engineer on the road, but he’s gone craz}?- over 2001, and what with the fear he has that his engine will some day crush the life out of him, I never feel safe while riding behind him.” I saw Bob Williams once more. I was hurrying from the train at Ogden after a long dusty day of travel, when I saw him on his way to make his nightly run. He did not see me nor any of the people through whom he was treading his way. I never beheld a more wretched creature than the engineer of 2001 that night. He was bowed down like an old man of ninety, his head hung upon his breast, his face was cadaver- ous and of a pale blue tinge, while every vein stood out in the thin lifeless hands that dangled from the sleeves of his blue jacket. The bells clanging on the locomotives in the station caused him to start and stare at the tracks with wild fearful