Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR iirmly, he shoved them forward. He then walked to the window and leaned on the sill. He glanced at the clock. Six forty-four and one-half. A faint wisp of smoke appeared over the tree tops far down the main line. A few seconds later the Pacific Flyer shot down the tracks to the Y, As the train passed by a goggled engineer waved at Efhe, as did the conductor. They all knew him. Effie returned to his chair. And the evening passed on, uneventful and pleasant. Only the red, yellow, and green lights of the signals dared to penetrate the mountain night. Effie settled back in his seat. Only now and then a creaking line of freight cars clanked past and so interrupted the evening stillness. There was only one sound that did not cease. It was the steady tick, tick, tick of Effic's clock. Once he glanced upward at the new clock. The two coincided per- fectly. With a snort of disgust Effi rose from his chair and, taking his coat, hung it over the electric clock, completely covering it and blotting out its white light. There! he growled. That'll take care of you. At eleven Hfteen Effie watched the long line of dimly-lighted sleep- ers speed past, as the Chicago Special raced on its way eastward. That was the last one for a while. There would now be perfect peace at Lone- some. Effie set the two switches for the bank train, which was next to come, and again settled back to gaze out of the open window beside his desk. Lonesome YU would now live up to its name. How long he sat there he did not know, but suddenly a queer sensa- tion began to creep up and down his spine. He wiggled his shoulders against the chair. But it would not leave. Something was wrong! He could feel it! His muscles tightened! He felt his neck get hot under his collar. He was being watched! He whirled around. Only the merry ticking of his clock broke the silence of the night. But that feeling was still there. Goose pimples appeared on his bare arms. He rubbed them vigorously. With a grunt he leaned across to his key and, opening the switch, commenced to call the chief dispatcher rapidly. The sounder ticked lifelessly. The line was down. Cut. It must be cut, there Wasn't a breath of air stirring the darkness. Cut! Like a flash it came to him! The bank train! He yanked open the top of his desk and his hand darted within! Just a minute, young fellar! The voice behind him was cool, calm, deadly. EfHe,s finger tips were resting on the butt of his automatic. i'Don,t budge a muscle or make a move of any kind! Effie sat perfectly rigid in his chair, staring at the white face of his f Twelve f

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THE REFLECTOR forehead. Caswell, the man on duty before Elie, opened the door at the top of the stairs and came out on the landing. What's the matter, Effie? he called out genially. Isn't it hot enough for you? Gosh, 1,11 say so, was Effie's reply. I guess summer is here to stay all right. You look like an old mop ready to be wrung out, laughed Caswell. By the way, I've got a surprise for you. The electrical gang was down here today and they brought us a present. Come up and see it. Effie picked up his lunch pail and, tucking his coat under his arm, climbed upward to the door of the operating room. He stepped inside casually, then stood there, his pail dangling by his side. A cloud of anger crossed his face. Nearly set up on the opposite wall of the room was a new electric clock. It was firmly bolted to the wall. W'ho ordered this thing? he snorted, throwing down his coat. You've got me, answered Caswell. The gang came up here with an order to install it. That's all I know. Well, it's been hot as the dickens up here today, and l'm tired. Yeah, EH'ie grunted, but he did not take his eye from the new clock. Well, I'm going, Effie. I left the night specials on your desk. G'night, growled Eflie, making a face at the offensive newcomer. Hanging up his coat and putting away his lunch, Effie procured his dustcloth and commenced his cleanup of engine smoke dust that formed a film over everything. Affectionately he picked up the little mahogany clock on his desk and carefully dusted it, breathing on the glass dial, and polishing it with his handkerchief until it shone like a jewel. Well, you're still here, old clock, he said, addressing the time- piece. And you're going to stay here as long as I do. The clock ticked back a merry answer that only Efhe could under- stand, and he carefully replaced it. He went on with his dusting. With this task finished, he sat down and commenced to look over the night specials. As he shuffled the cards slowly, he suddenly stopped and whistled. Well, we're going to have some work tonight, old boy, he said, addressing the time-piece. See this card. It says: 12:15 a. m. Crest to Charlotteville, armoured train. Due at Lonesome 'Y' at 12:22 a. m. You know what that means, old sock. They're going to run some gold on the division tonight. And listen to this one. Western route blocked by landslide. Western mail, train No. 27, will proceed by way of Lone- some 'Y' on mountain division. Due at 'Y' at 1:07 a. m. Hold western mail at 'Y' to give train No. 8, the Cannonball, the right of way. Twilight was fast descending on the Y, Eflie glanced at his clock. It was six forty three. He got to his feet, and, grasping two of the levers Eleven

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THE REFLECTOR little clock. Footsteps sounded behind him. It was no use! He was trapped! The cold, chilly muzzle of a gun pressed into the back of his neck none too gently. 'Stand up! Eflie got slowly to his feet. The gun jabbed impatiently. Hurry! We ain't got no time to waste. Now, stand against the wall. Effie did as he was told. All right, you guys! sang out the voice. Come on up. Footsteps shuffled on the stairs outside and then proceeded into the room. All set? in a new voice. Everything slick as pie. Son, here, was fast asleep. Got wise when he found out his little clicking machine there was out of order, but he was too slow in gettin' out that gat of hisnln reassured the first voice. Turn around, youll' Effie swung around, his eyes blazing. Five masked figures stood about him. Wicked looking six-shooters were leveled at him by three of the intruders. They were dressed in rough corduroy and high boots. Spurs betrayed the fact that they were all riders. The spokesman, a tall, lanky individual, slouched forward, thrusting his gun up in Effie,s stomach. Let's get down to business, young fellar. What time does that money train go through? Effie remained silent. The gun jabbed viciously. Still Eflie was silent. An oath was the masked bandit's comment. We'll Hnd a way to make you talk! XWait a minute, Rad, snarled one of the others. He don't have to talk. His orders must be here somwheref' A short, fat member of the band crossed to the desk and began to toss the papers about. Finally he snatched up the special card with a hoarse laugh. Here it is. Train No. 361. Due at Lonesome at 12:22. That's the one, boys. Effie darted a quick look at his little clock. It told him that it was 11:47. Oh, well, weire early enough, remarked the leader. Might as well be comfortable. One of the masked men sank into a chair. The tall one again prodded Effie with his gun. Come on you. Sit down over there in your chair while we tie you up. We're not afraid of you, understand, but it would look more real to a passing engineer to see you sitting in your regular chair. What are you going to do? asked Effie in a timid voice. Thirteen