Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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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

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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 Loud laughter was his answer from the others scattered about the room. Listen to 'im, boys, snorted the tall one. Why, my dear boy, we're just goin' to hold a prayer meeting right here in this room. Bandy, you pass the hat. The others laughed at the rough sarcasm of the leader. :'What are we goin' to do, you young fool? snarled the short one. We're goin' to pile up your little bank train about a quarter of a mile down the track, an, while the crew is busy dyin' we're going to help ourselves to any money that might be lyin' around loose in the wreck. See?,' EfHe's blood ran cold in his veins. l'Pile it up? No! Listen to reason! Shet up! barked the leader, as he finished tightening the knots that bound Effie to his chair. But I can stop her from here! shouted Eflie. You don't have to kill her crew that way! I'1l stop her! Stuff a gag in his face, Rad! cut in the fat one. Do we look like a gang of fools? If we ever stopped her with all the armoured cars she's got, what kind of a show would we have? We,d all be killed. Ain't you got no feelinis for poor unsuspectin' guys like us? Oh! We'll stop her, all right, but she,ll be on her side in a ditch when we do! Effie closed his eyes and gritted his teeth firmly after the gag had been shoved into his mouth. A picture of the torn and twisted wreckage of the bank train flashed before him, and cold sweat stood out on his brow. Suddenly he twisted his head to one side and listened. What was the mat- ter? The bandits were talking and did not notice his strange look. He tried to concentrate. Something was wrong. What was the matter, anyway? Now he knew. The little mahogany clock had stopped! Eleven forty-seven! It was still eleven forty-seven! He closed his eyes again and counted to himself. When he reached one hundred and twenty, he opened his eyes and looked again. Still eleven forty-seven. The little mahogany clock had stopped. He settled back in his chair as a ray of hope shot through his brain. Working silently at his bonds, he tried to loosen them. They were too tight. Finally the leader arose to his feet. All right, Bandy. I guess there won't be anything else along now for a while. Better go down the line an' pile up them ties. An be sure you pile ,em on the outbound rail.', Bandy yawned and stretched. XVe got plenty of time, Rad, he drawled. ':Say, kid, where's your clock?', Efiie nodded toward the desk. Almost ten minutes of twelvef' broke in the short bandit. We got plenty of time. Better take it easy. We donit want no passin' Follffeefl