soon we were shooting down the track like a flyer. At
62nd street we passed a sullen looking crowd and when we reached 130th
street, we were flagged by the operator in the tower, and informed that
the mob in our rear was starting to block the track by overturning a
standard sleeper. They were going to cut us off. We cut the engine
loose, put fourteen men up on the tender, and Brainerd and I started
back with them. The engine was going head on, having backed out from the
city, and Bob let her put for all she was worth. Just at 62nd street
there is a long sweeping curve and we were coming around it like a
streak of blue lightning, when all at once we saw the crowd just in the
act of pulling the sleeper over on our track. There was no time to lose
and the command "Fire" was sharply given. "Bang," rang out the
Springfields, one or two of the mob dropped to the ground, the rest let
go of the ropes and ran like scared cats, and the car tottered back in
its original place. Redway had shut off steam and was slowing down under
ordinary air, when all at once there was a dull deafening roar, and then
for me--oblivion. I was only stunned and when I regained consciousness
looked around and saw the men slowly regaining their feet. Redway was
not killed, but the shock and concussion of the detonation of the
dynamite made him lose his speech and he was bleeding profusely at the
nose and ears. The cowcatcher, headlight and forward trucks of the
engine were blown to smithereens, but fortunately the boiler did not
burst and there she stood like some powerful monster wounded to the
death. The mob, imagining that their fiendish work had been complete,
became emboldened and rapidly gathered around the little body of
bluecoats. It began to look rocky, and Brainerd came limping over to me
and said, "Bates, I'm pretty badly bruised about the legs, and can't
climb, but if you're able, for God's sake climb that telegraph pole and
cut in and ask department headquarters to send us down some help. I'll
form the men around the bottom of the pole and shoot the first damned
man or woman that throws a missile. We're in a devilish bad box."

I took the little instrument, nippers and wire and up I went. There were
side steps on the pole so the ascent was easy. What a scene below! Five
or six thousand angry faces, besotted, coarse and ill-bred looking
brutes, gazing up at me with the wrath of vengeance in their hearts; and
held at bay by a band of fourteen