Summary

Portrait of Cy Warman Cy Warman The Express Messenger, and Other Tales of the Rail (1897)

Love, like the locomotive, is a great civilizer. Wakalona had tasted the joy of love, and life had become dear to her. The past, for her, was veiled in dark mystery, the future was little better, but already she had begun to feel that beyond it all there must be a brighter and better world. Once she had asked McAlaster about the future and he, touched by the earnestness of her nature, had told her in his own way a story his mother had told to him many a time,—the story of the Christ.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Cy Warman Cy Warman The Express Messenger, and Other Tales of the Rail (1897)

It was 11:50 when they passed Good-night, and two minutes later the fireman was startled by that dreadful word which almost every fireman has heard at some time or another: "Jump!"
It is as natural for an engineer to call to his fireman to jump and save himself for he is of no use on a locomotive about to be wrecked—as it is for the engineer to remain at his post.
"Jump!" shouted the driver; and the fire man glancing ahead saw a confused mingling of horns, hoofs, and tails between him and the track.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Cy Warman Cy Warman The Express Messenger, and Other Tales of the Rail (1897)

Another plunge of the horse hurled him to the ground, his foot caught in the stirrup, and the messenger was horrified to see the crazed broncho bounding away, dragging his rider, head down, over the jagged rocks. The maddened animal appeared to be blind with rage. He crashed through a low, broad cedar, and a moment later leaped over a precipice and went rolling down the splintered side of a deep gorge; and when the Sheriff and his companions came up the gulch they found where the horse and rider had fallen one mangled mass of torn and tattered flesh.
Source: Wikisource

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