Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE DUKE OF CHIMNEY BUTTE. neck, force to force, with no advantage asked or taken. Then if be could gather speed and beat the engine on the home stretch no man, on the train or off, could say that he had done it with tke advantage of a handicap. . There was a great whooping, a great thumping of hoofs, a monstrous swirl of dust, as the riders at the side of tthe race- course saw the duke’s maneuver and read his mtention. Away they swept, a noisy troop, like a flight of blackbirds, hats off, guns popping, in a scramble to get up as close to the finishing line as possible. F Never before in the long history of that unique contest had there been so much ox citement. Porters opened the vestibul doors, allowing passengers to crowd the steps; windows were opened, heads thrust out, every tongue urging the horseman on with cheers. The duke was riding beside the engineer, not ten feet between them. More than half the course was run, and there the duke hung, the engine not gaining an inch. The engineer was on his feet now, hand on the throttle-lever, although it was open as wide as it could be pulled. The firenan was throwing coal imto the furnace, looking © round over his shoulder now and then at the persistent horseman who would not be outrun, his eyes white in his grimy face. On the observation-car women hung over the rail at the side, waving handkerchiefs at the rider’s back; along the fence the inhabitants of Misery broke away like leaves before a wind and went running toward the depot ; ahead of the racing horse and engine the mounted men who had taken a big start rede on toward the station in a wild, delirious charge. Neck and neck with the engine old Whetstone ran, throwing his long legs hike a‘ wolfhound, his long neck stretched, his ears flat, not leaving a hair that he could con- trol outstanding to catch the wind, The engineer was peering ahead with fixed eyes now, as if he feared to look again on this puny bination of horse and man that was Kolding its own in this unequal trial of strength. Within three hundred yards of the sta- tion platform, which sloped down at the 2 ARGOSY 369 end like a continuation of the\course, the duke touched old Whetstone’s neck with the tips of his fingers. As if he had given a signal upon which they had agreed, the horse gathered power, grunting as he used to grunt in the days of his outlawry, and bounded away from the cab-window, where the greasy engineer stood with white face and set jaw. Yard by yard the horse gained, his long mane flying, his long tail astream, foam on his lip, forging past the great driving- wheels which ground against the rails; past the swinging piston; past the powerful black cylinders, past the stubby pilot, ad- vancing like a shadow over the track. When Whetstone’s hoofs struck the planks of the platform, marking the end of the course, he was more than the length of the engine in the lead. The duke sat there waving his hand solemniy to those who cheered him as the train swept past, the punchers around him lifting up a joyful chorus of shots and shouts, showing off on their own account to a considerable extent, but. sincere over all because of the victory that the duke had won. Oid Whetstone was standing where he had stopped, within a few feet of the track, front hoofs on the boards of the platform, not more than nicely warmed up for another race, it appeared. As the observation-car passed, a young woman leaned over the rail, ‘handkerchief reached out to the duke as if trying to give it to him. He saw her only a second before she passed, too late to make even a futile at- tempt to possess the favor of her appre- ciation. She laughed, waving it to him, holding it out as if in challenge for him to come and take it. Without wasting a precious fragment of a second in hesitation the duke sent Whetstone thundering along the platform in pursuit of the train. It seemed a foolish thing to do, and a risky venture, for the platform was old, its planks were weak in places. It was not above a hundred feet long, and beyond it only a short stretch of right-of-way until the public road crossed the track, the fence running down to the cattle-guard, blocking his hope of overtaking the train. COME! ‘eo NOO S Co mM