I immediately sent him
an order to put out a track walker at once, and told the despatcher on
duty to make a "slow order" for five miles this side of the Big River;
the track on the other, or south side, was all right, being on high
ground.
Our fast mail came in just then, and after the engines were changed, the
engineer and conductor came into my office for their orders. I told them
about the soft track, and in a spirit of pure fun, remarked to Ben
Roberts, the engineer, that he had better look out or he would be taking
a bath in Big River that night. He facetiously replied: "Well, I don't
much mind. I'm generally so dirty when I get that far out that a bath
would do me good."
They received their orders, and as Roberts went out the door, he
laughingly said, "I reckon, Bates, you'd better send the wrecker out
right after us to fish me out of Big River to-night."
I stepped over to the window, saw him climb up on engine 232, a
beautiful McQueen, and pull out, and just as he started, he turned and
waved his hand to me as if in token of farewell.
Truxton, five miles from the river, was not a stop for the mail, but I
had them flagged there, to give them another special warning about
approaching Big River with caution.
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