BUFFALO ROOST
A Story of a Young Men's Christian Association Boys' Department
by
F. H. CHELEY
Boys' Work Director, Young Men's Christian Association, South Bend, Ind.
1913
TO Every Good Fellow WHO CUT A LOG OR TURNED A STONE FOR THE CONSTRUCTION
OF THE OLD CABIN IN BUFFALO PARK, AND TO
My Father WHO BUILT ITS HEART AND INSPIRATION, THE FIREPLACE, THIS STORY
IS DEDICATED
CONTENTS
I. WILLIS THORNTON DISPLAYS HIS PLUCK
II. A STORY IS TOLD AND A PROMISE MADE
III. IN WHICH WILLIS IS HONORED
IV. WILLIS BECOMES INTERESTED IN GOLD MINES
V. A PLAN IS EVOLVED
VI. A STAGE ROAD JOURNEY
VII. A WILDERNESS CAMP
VIII. THE SECOND DAY OUT
IX. THE THIRD DAY OUT
X. A GLIMPSE OF BUFFALO ROOST
XI. A STRANGE TURN OF FATE
XII. THE DISCOVERY OF THE MINE
XIII. SLEEPY SMITH HAS AN EXPERIENCE
XIV. THE OPENED DOOR
XV. IN WHICH FATE TAKES A HAND
CHAPTER I
Willis Thornton Displays His Pluck
Train No. 6 on the D. & P.W., two hours late at Limon, was rushing and
jolting along over its rickety roadbed. The rain fell in torrents, the
heavy peals of thunder seemed about to tear the car to pieces, the black
and threatening clouds blotted out the landscape, and the passengers
could hear nothing but the roar of the thunder and the rattle of the
train. The brakeman, shaking the water from his hat as he passed through
the aisle, dropped something about it being a "mighty tough day for
railroadin'."
Suddenly there was a creaking, a cracking, and then a series of awful
jolts. Window glass broke and flew in every direction. Like a mighty
monster that had suddenly been frightened by an unseen foe, the train
lurched forward, tipped a little, and slowly came to an uncertain stop.
People were hurled from their seats with a great violence as the
emergency brake was set. A baby cried out from a seat near the front of
the car, and a woman screamed as a satchel from the luggage rack above
her head dropped down upon her. Willis Thornton raised his arms above his
head just in time to save a heavy leather suitcase from striking his
mother full in the face. Through the broken windows was heard the shrill
warning notes of the engine's trouble whistle, but so intense was the
storm that the sound seemed rather a part of the raging gale. The
brakeman rushed through the car, and as he passed Willis heard him
exclaim half-aloud, "The freight!" Then in a loud, shaky voice, not meant
to betray excitement, he shouted, "All out; train off the track!"
He need not have spoken, however, for the people who had not already
gotten out were close upon him. First in the rush was the mother of the
babe that had screamed when the first jolts came. She was wild-eyed and
hysterical. A piece of flying glass had struck her on the face, and the
warm, trickling blood had frightened her. She rushed up to the nearest
man and shouted, "Is my husband safe?" Just then a sickly, dudish little
man, with a lighted cigar in his mouth, rushed toward her.
"Ba Jove, my dear, you are 'urt," he said as she hurried toward him and
fainted in his arms.
The word had been passed around that a heavy freight was expected at any
moment. The passenger whistle blew in long, shrill tones, while the
brakeman hurried up the hill in the direction of the expected freight to
give the danger signal. Hardly had he reached the top when there came
the faint sound of a whistle. He heard the three blasts. The train had
left Eastonville! Could he save a wreck? Lantern in hand, he hurried down
the track as fast as he could with the wind and rain beating him back.
Suddenly a black form loomed up in the mist ahead. Full blast she came,
the black smoke from her stack running ahead as if to coax her on to
greater speed. The brakeman waved his red lantern frantically in the air.
There was a screeching sound of brake-shoes on the wheels, a long, shrill
whistle, and the train sped past him, a misty dull serpent in the storm.
He turned and followed as fast as he could.
Women with disheveled hair stood and wrung their hands. Men cursed and
swore as they ran back and forth about the derailed passenger. The wind
lulled for a second, and in the momentary silence there came the
half-smothered cry of a little child from one direction, answered from
somewhere in the fog by the rushing of wheels and the faint, weird sigh
of a whistle.
Willis's head went up, his eyes flashed, his muscles tightened; then,
turning to his mother, he cried, "The baby!" and in an instant was gone.
It all happened so quickly there was no time for Mrs. Thornton to think.
She saw Willis hasten away and enter the front door of the car they had
been occupying; at the same instant she became aware of the approaching
train. There was a shrill, angry hiss, and the freight swung into the cut
with a terrible roar, then came a crashing of glass and breaking of
timbers. The engineer had opened the whistle valve with such a jerk that
it had stuck fast, and the whistle did its utmost. It was a doleful
sound, pulsating its strange, sharp cry into the storm.
Mrs. Thornton sank to her knees in an attitude of prayer, her head
dropped to her breast. The mother that had fainted roused a little and
called for her child.
The passengers rushed back and forth in a perfect frenzy, shouting, "The
baby! the baby!" Women cried and begged and implored some one to save it;
but it was all over before any one could act or before the Englishman
realized that it was his child that was in danger. The engines had
telescoped. The freight was derailed and the first three cars completely
demolished. The crew had all jumped and were uninjured, except the
fireman, who had a badly-broken leg and some bruises. Two men came around
the end of the Pullman with a boy supported between them. His head hung
limp and the blood trickled slowly from nasty cuts on his head and face.
Following them came the brakeman with a very frightened but unharmed
baby, wrapped in an overcoat. Every one made a rush for the little group.
The Englishman was first in line. His eyes opened wide and his cigar fell
from his lips. "By Jove, Chauncey!" he exclaimed, "they came near getting
you that time," then began to cry like a child.
The danger was past. There was no one killed, and only a few injured.
Several people were cut by broken glass and bruised by bumps. The fireman
of the freight had broken his leg and cut his shoulder badly in his jump.
Willis had reached the opposite platform, with the baby in his arms, just
as the trains collided. The jar had thrown him from his feet and broken
the glass in the door behind him. The jolt threw him, baby and all, out
against the side of the cut into the wet sand. Outside of the ugly cuts
and bad bruises he was unharmed, but was the hero of the day.
Mrs. Thornton sat by her boy, tenderly caring for his every need. He had
swooned at the sight of his own blood and had not yet returned to
consciousness. In the next seat the injured fireman was propped up on
pillows, watching the boy.
"There's a piece of real stuff," he said to the engineer as they sat
talking together. "Looks just like my old pard. It took real pluck to go
after that baby. If Bill'd a been here he would have gotten enthusiastic
over that lad."