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Johnson, E. Pauline, 1861-1913

"The Shagganappi"

On she rushed,
slipping, grinding, rocking in her restraint. The train crew and
passengers in the rear car pitched almost on their faces with the
violent checking of speed, until, snorting and pulsing and belching,
the great mogul came to a standstill.
"Oh, daddy, you _did_ remember, you _did_, after all!" cried a very
white-faced little boy who peered up into the cab window with horrified
eyes, while his naked shoulders heaved, and his hand clutched a torn,
faded blue shirt.
"What's the meaning of this nonsense, Ellis?" thundered an angry voice
behind him, and the superintendent, black with scowling, glared at first
the boy, then the engineer. "What's this stop for, when you know I
haven't a minute to spare getting to Dubuc? You nearly broke my neck,
too, downing brakes. What does it mean, I say?"
But when the boys, bold with excitement, dragged the great man around
the curve, and pointed to the doomed trestle, with its already falling
timbers, it was another story altogether. From the engineer's white lips
he listened to the history of Benny's "signal code.


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