The “Railroad over the Rockies”
By Emma H. Adams
The Spirit of the Dynamiter
THE windows of my room, in a hillside building, overlook a vast area of the great Pacific. They are a full block distant from the white beach upon which have dashed foam-crested waves ever since the Flood. Next the building—to the west—lies a narrow, vacant lot, across which tramp scores of hasting feet from morning till night, every day. Ten days ago, early in the forenoon, happening to glance out of one of the windows, I observed that a dozen or more little hillocks of earth had been deposited recently upon the western border of this morsel of real estate. I observed also that, working among these tiny elevations, with striking zeal and purpose, were two lads, aged thirteen perhaps, shoveling, digging, spading, with an outfit of flat sticks, round sticks, small stones, broken pottery, discarded granite basins, etc. All that day, except during a short respite at midday, they were absorbed in their labor, giving no heed to passers-by, disturbed by no fascinations of boy games, untempted by the prevailing—ofttimes wasteful—beach pastime named “fishing.” Now the young laborers were upon their knees, using their hands with great speed, if not skill. Now they were erect, surveying their work, evidently making mental calculations as to future steps, or passing judgment upon those already taken. At five o'clock they withdrew from the field. An early hour next morning found them again upon the scene, with coats off,—and throwing soil hither and thither with wonderful urgency, showing that they had an important purpose in mind. The delving continued all that day with relentless application, and before nightfall the young fellows had worked their way well up among the cones of earth decorating the margin of the lot. I then found myself curious to know what was the object of so much eager endeavor. It looked as tho they might have formed a trust “to control prices or to defeat competition” in some lawful pursuit, some worthy line of business, and were there working out personally their ungenerous scheme. So, stepping down to the place, I inquired very kindly what was the purpose of so much vigorous and enthusiastic effort. “Why,” replied one of the lads quickly, “we are building a railway from this seaport over the Rocky Mountains. See! I'm tunneling this high cone now. I'm almost through. We'll send a locomotive under it very soon. See! Over there is one of our station houses. And this is our roadway where we will lay our rails,” calling my attention to a long, narrow, climbing passage, less than a foot in width, which, with admirable skill, they had constructed along the ground slightly below the surface. The following day at noon the “railroad over the Rocky Mountains” was ready for business and the builders retired to their homes to await patronage. Singularly, on the succeeding day a still younger lad appeared alone upon the same attractive parcel of land, and began single-handed the construction of a railroad up the western slope of the Cascade Range. Moving upon his knees chiefly, all day long, with speeding hands and utter absorption of mind, he opened up his roadbed, traced with wonderful skill its many curves, short and long, tunneled some hills, leveled others, threw frail bridges over thread-like streams, climbed cautiously around dangerous cliffs, and built out connecting lines to a side town or two along the route. Two days of steady, speedy effort were spent before the enterprising boy attained the summit of the beautiful Cascade Range—the somewhat elevated edge of the sidewalk; but his task had been accomplished splendidly. Repeatedly, while he was thus engaged, gentlemen, drawn by his unusual position and by his unique movements, stopped upon the pavement to inquire what he was doing. To them all he returned a civil reply and then urged forward his scheme. Next day—all the juvenile railway builders being at home enjoying their midday meal—I observed a strange lad moving rapidly down the winding line to the Cascade Range, and with a swift, swinging movement of the feet, sweeping quantities of earth and debris upon the clear-cut track, completely obliterating the fine product of the little fellow, who, for two whole days, had wrought there so nobly, so strongly. Then, glancing hastily around the neighborhood, to learn if he had been noticed, the intruder sped away into the town and out of sight. Turning then to the line over the Rockies, I saw that he had there accomplished the same cruel, pitiless, inhuman result. Both miniature railway tracks were totally effaced. Then flashed into mind this thought: In that lad dwells the spirit of the dynamiter. With him must have come into the world the disposition, the tendency, yes, the hunger, the craving to do evil to his fellow men; not openly, not when they stand by, able to protect their possessions; but when they sleep, when their minds are intent upon duty, when they are necessarily absent from their field of labor. Now, what about the obligations, the responsibilities, of the father and mother of that boy? Must his alarming trait increase, strengthen, as he merges into manhood? Certainly it will, unless there be quick, firm, intelligent effort to expel the vicious germ now working unnoted at the foundation of his character. Then how evident is duty, how great, how imperative! Suppose that, beginning now, they study seriously, earnestly, the mental and moral make-up of the lad, and by right training, judicious leading and safe example, eliminate the threatening element in his character, and in place thereof plant some stem of beauty, mold him into a helper of his comrades. What would be the fruit in the great eternity? The changing of the characteristics of even one such criminally inclined boy might save a hundred useful lives, and shut the door against years of grief, pain, and endless struggle.