Stadium High School - Tahoma Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

Page 14 text:

I2 T1-IE. TAI-IOMA A freight engineer shook hands shamefacedly with Burman, at the same time expressing hope that the driver might come back safe. Altogether it was a most uncomfortable departure. Running his engine lightly back, Burman coupled her to the waiting cars.. The conductor gave his signal, the throttle was opened. Gently, so gently that one could scarce discern the movement of the piston rods. A dispatcher ran out to give the driver his orders. Make time, were the only words on the slip. You've got to get to Burley on timeg got to-hear? screamed the dis- 1 patcher, to make his order more forceful. The new president's waiting there.' If you know anything about new presidents, you will realize that it be- hooves every employee whom he comes in contact with to make a good impres- sion. Burman forced his engine slightly. As he came to the Master Mechanic, whom chance had placed near the end of the platform, he leaned out of the cab, yelling: Tonight I run my race. That was all. Gradually the speed increased. The miles Hew by. Shortly after mid- night they made schedule time. Ar a small office out on the prairie the train slowed down enough, in response to the red light, to receive orders. Meet president's special at Redding, 3:05. Burman showed it to Macline. The other nodded in understanding. On they went again. Through it all Burman felt strangely anxious. He remem- bered the talk at the roundhouse. Especially did the history student's words come back to him. That sounds to me like the Music of the Spheres, if ever such a thing could be. Vaguely he wondered if it were possible that the stars, twinkling thousands of miles away, could produce a music, in flight, ca- pable of blending in harmony with one another. The wires of the roundhouse did not appeal to him as embodying the elements of celestial music. More like a huge disk of thinnest steel, slotted and set with reeds of silver, the whole re- volving at a high rate of speed, was his idea. If he might only-his hand slipped from the throttle for a second. Something peculiar occurred. The high steam pressure forced open the valve for a sceond and wedged it there. high steam pressure forced open the valve for a second and wedged it there. down in a heap. The fireman, hearing the racket, caused by the fflying parallel, the rod that connects the drive-wheels, jumped blindly into the maze instead of crawling over the boiler head to get at the throttle. Unluckily for him, he re- ceived a worse blow than Burman, falling backward on top of his chief. It was the engineer who recovered first. Dazed for a while, he did not realize

Page 13 text:

THE TAHOMA ll You done fine, cried the Master Mechanic to Burman two days later. Thank you, returned the driver, but just wait until I run my race,my race! he added. That was all, but it set several tongues wagging. That is all some tongues are meant for--wagging. A For weeks nothing unusual happened. Then one night as they sat in the roundhouso together--wipers, firemen, and a few engineers-some wires, strung high up in the' building for a purpose long since forgotten, began a weird, un- earthly, yet altogether melodious song, sounding as if it had come through a vast void of clarifying space. That, said a young man to whom a delightful recreation made itself apparent in ancient history, that sounds like the Music of the Spheres, if ever such a thing could be. Sonic one asked him curiously what he meant. The Egyptians had a notion that the planets in their flight produced a music too fine for the mortal ear to hear. They imagined that the melody was meant for the gods alone. And this pretty conceit, finished up the dispenser of history, with a flourish, they called the Music of the Spheres. Don't sound pretty to me a bit, growled an old engineer. The last time them wires sang that way Crifhth was killed, and on the same night. Yeah, and on the time before that 'twas the Long Curve wreck. d'you 'member? whined Gilson. They say, whenever those wires gets a-singin' like they is now, that the next engine out'll be wrecked. Some gazed apprehensively at Burman, who still monkeyed with his engine. ' ' Hear that, Flynn? chuckled Macline, who at that time fired for Bur- man. Maybe we'll fly the coop tonight. Yes, I heard, and maybe I willg but you won't, he twitted the fireman. Hear 'im, would you! He, why he's agoin' to rescue me! cackled Macline. Mac was the only one who dared take liberties with Burman. Nevertheless, Burman felt decidedly uneasy, despite his attempt at jocu- larity. Why, he did not exactly know. Something was wrong somewhere. Whether it was in his mind or whether it was the engine he was unable to de- cide. Yet it must be the engine. He sensed, seemingly in every nerve. So long and so carefully had he cared for his machine that he seemed more a part of it than anything else. And he could not decide where the trouble lay. The safety valve sobbed, choking as if trying to tell him something that he could not see. Even the water in the glasses rose and fell apprehensively. It was weird, uncanny. When the limited came in thirty minutes late it added to the high tension in the roundhouse.

Page 15 text:

THE TAHOMA I3 what had happened. Then it came to him in a dull sort of flash. One of the short pins on the wheel of the locomotive, that pin which forms a crank wrist, had snapped, thus loosening the connective rod. Now it was beating up road- bed and engine like some terrible Hail. The engineer arose unsteadily to set the brakes. But some caprice of fate had decided to jam the air. Then he tried to shut off the oil supply. Failing, he decided that he was too weak. For a moment he groped madly about in his mind for some expedient that would save the train. If the conductor knew, but he did not. He decided quite suddenly. I'l1 save you Hrst, my friend, he muttered thickly to the unconscious Macline. I'll save you, I'll save you. How he managed, he never knew. Dragging the form of the fireman over the big oil tank and boosting it up onto the roof of the blind baggage, was a task that might have been sufficiently hard for a strong, clear-headed man, with all the cars standing still. Yet he did it, and reaching the top he lashed Macline to the roof. G'by, old sport, he sang out crazily, just as he disappeared over the roof. Back in the cab again he got busy. Back near where the flying steel bar raged, he knew there was another upright bar, the pulling of which meant the saving of the lives of many people. Somehow, oddly, it was intact. He groped for it, reached it, tugged sharply. The engine, released of its load, leaped forward like a thing of life renewed. The train, whose uncoupling automatically set the air, shuddered long and came to a stop. ' It was saved, reflected Burmang but at one o'clock he was due to pass another passenger. No, not pass, 'now. just Hy at it with the horrible speed- energized weight of his engine. Suddenly a glad something boiled itself up. Why had he not thought of that before? By opening the injectors he might force down the pressure, stop the engine, derail it. No sooner had he put the idea into practice than they struck a curve. The Curve, so called, worst of all on the line. For a moment the pilot trucks hung, then off they' went. A thin, sibilant scream arose as the great drivers left the tangents. Burman was hurled far out on the prairie. Hours later, it seemed, when he awoke. Over to the east, perhaps a hundred yards distant, lay a great black hulk: to the west, the tail lights of a train disappeared. Overhead stars glimmered fitfullv. Burman stirred a trifle, paused, as if something had caught his ear. Evidently it was nothing. Ap- proach of death, maybe. Yet again his body became tense, as if he strained to listen. Then he heard it, and like the sighing of a new-born sage-scented desert wind through reeds of finest silver it was, heart-breakingly sweet, wildly sad, the Music of the Spheres.