Part 28 (2/2)

Beyond that, the fire department depended on the cisterns of private houses for the water to subdue the flames.

With lightning-like rapidity the flames had spread and almost before they knew it the town seemed doomed. Arches of flame, myriads of falling sparks, hundreds of fleeing half-clad men, women and children, the hissing of the engines in their puny attempts to fight the monster, and ever and anon the dull roar of the falling walls, made a scene, as grand and weird as it was desolate and awful. In less than two hours time fifty-two squares had been laid waste, leaving a trail of smoldering black ashes. That the whole city did not go is due to a providential switch of the wind that blew the flames back on their own tracks.

Of the fifteen operators in the day force, twelve had been burned out, and the next morning, at eight o'clock, when all had reported for duty, they were as sorry a looking lot of men as ever a.s.sembled.

”Some in rags, some in jags, and one in velvet gown.” ”Count” Finnegan had on a frilled s.h.i.+rt, a pair of trousers three sizes too small for him, and his manly form was wrapped in a flowing robe of black velvet, picked up by him in his mad flight.

It was many a day before the effects of this direful calamity were entirely obliterated.

CHAPTER VIII

SENDING A MESSAGE PERFORCE--RECOGNIZING AN OLD FRIEND BY HIS STUFF

Some time after this I was in Fort Worth copying night reports at eighty dollars per month. The night force consisted of two other men besides myself. The ”split trick” man worked until ten o'clock, the other chap stayed around until twelve, or until he was clear, while I hung on until ”30” on report which came anywhere from one-thirty until four A. M.

After midnight I had to handle all the business that came along.

When I had received ”30” I would cut out the instruments and go home.

One morning, about two-thirty I had said ”G. N.” to Galveston, cut out the instruments, put out the lights in the operating room, and started to go home through the receiving room and I was about to put out the last light there, when the outer door opened and in staggered a half drunken ranchman who said,

”Hold on there, young fellow, I want to send a message to St. Louis.”

”I'm sorry, but it's too late to send it now. All the instruments are cut out and we wont have St. Louis until eight o'clock in the morning.

Come around then and some of the day force will send it for you.”

”But,” he said in a maudlin voice, ”I've got nineteen cars of cattle out here that are going up there to-morrow and I want to notify my agents.”

I persisted in my refusal and was beginning to get hot under the collar, but my bucolic friend also had a temper and showed it.

”D--n it,” he said, ”you send this message or there is going to be trouble.”

”Not much, I won't send your confounded old message. Get out of this office: I'm going home.”

Just then I heard an ominous click and in a second I was gazing down the barrel of a .45, and he said,

”Now will you send it? You'd better or I'll send you to a home that will be a permanent one.”

A .45, especially when it is loaded, c.o.c.ked and pointed at your head, with a half drunken galoot's finger on the trigger, is a powerful incentive to quick action.

”Give me your blamed old message, and I'll send it for you.”

Now there wasn't a through wire to any place at the time, but I had thought of a scheme to stave him off. I took his telegram, went over and monkeyed around the switch board for a while, and then sat down to a local instrument and went through the form of sending a message. My whole salvation lay in the hope that he was not an operator and would fail to discover my ruse. I glanced at him furtively out of the corner of my eye, and there he stood, pistol in hand, grinning like a monkey and swaying to and fro like a reed in the wind. I didn't know what that grin portended for me, but after I had gone through the form of sending the telegram, I hung it up on the hook, and turned around with,

”There, I hope you are satisfied now. Your blamed old message has been sent.”

”Satisfied! Why certainly I'm satisfied. I just wanted to show you that the Western Union Company wasn't the whole push. Come on over to the White Elephant with me and we'll have a drink together, just to show there's no hard feelings between us,” and with that he put away his pistol and we went out. On the way over to the Elephant he said,

”Say, kid, did you think I'd shoot if you hadn't sent the message?”

<script>