Casey In The Mouse Trap

Listen, readers, and you shall hear
My story of a brave engineer
He had a heart and he had a brain
And his greatest love was to drive a train

John Luther Jones was born on March 4, 1863. I was his friend, Sam Webb. I knew him then and I knew him when his family moved to Cayce, Kentucky. That’s where I and so many others started calling him “Cayce”. The name stuck, but he preferred to spell it “Casey”.

Ever since we saw our first 6/8 wheeler, Casey and I lived and breathed trains. We devoted our lives to those percolating powerhouses. We swore we’d give our lives for that sort of life. In the end, one of us did.

The Cannonball Express chugged by us one day. Casey’s eyes lit up and he said, “One day, I’m a gonna drive that son of a gun!”

For now, we just needed a start. We’d take any kind of an offer.

I was content to be a fireman;  I’d tend the fire for the boiler that powered the steam engine. Sure, shoveling coal into the firebox is backbreaking work, but I loved Casey as much as one man could love another. I wanted to share his future with him in any way I could.

Our  big break came when the New York, Erie, and Western acquired the Chicago and Atlantic Railway.

Old Number 3 was our first official hitch together. It wasn’t much of a train, but it was a train and it hauled passengers and freight. Casey and I jumped at the chance to helm this rusty coffee pot, and we’d have taken it anywhere!

However, The Exposition in Chicago had attracted more than triple the amount of passengers on our initial run. The record for this beat up piece of scrap from our starting  point to Chicago was five hours and fifteen minutes.

Casey said, “Watch us beat that silly old record!”

“I’ll do my best!” I promised, “I’ll give it all I’ve got, but, even so, Casey, how’re you gonna do it?”

“Simple,” said Casey, “We bring it up to 80 miles an hour and change tracks  at Watseka. From there, we pass through The Mouse Trap!”

Now, bringing the train up to that speed was highly improbable, but possible. Going through the Mouse Trap was an entirely other thing. It was an unproven tunnel, one where rockslides were common and thus was avoided by most trains.

If we could do it, that alone would save us at least forty five minutes.

The run went along smoothly. Smoothly for Casey, that is. He loved challenging that poor motor to do more than it was made for.  Me, I had my bellyful of shoveling coal, but I did it for Casey’s sake, for both of us, I guess, for getting Number Three in at record speed would be a feather in both our caps.

I sure wasn’t eager to meet the challenge, though. Yes, I was scared all the way to my socks of that tunnel.

When we approached within a mile of the Mouse Trap, Casey told me to lay off the coal. The train came to a stop within sight of the tunnel. Casey gave it a good eyeball, like a prize fighter sizing up his opponent. Then, Casey said to shovel in the coal, on the double quick.

Smart Casey! If we could sprint through the tunnel, we’d make it!

About a third of the way through, something began to ping on the roof, and there was a noise like thunder.

“STOP!” yelled Casey, “Rockslide!”

The train came to a stop about three-quarters of the way through. We were stuck in total darkness, not far enough to see any light at the end of the tunnel.

We could hear moans and screams from the passengers in our cars. We were still ahead of schedule, but would not make it unless…

“Hold her steady,” said Casey, “Don’t let’er move!” He crawled out the window and lay flat on the train’s roof.

He flattened his body as much as possible, then commanded, “Pick out the longest and strongest pieces of wood y’got! Pass it to me through the window!”

I did as Casey commanded. Well, Sir, Casey took them sticks and propped ‘em up on the roof, and against the rocky ceiling of the tunnel.

“Now shove off, as fast as you can!” cried Casey.

“But, Casey,” I pleaded, “I can’t! Not with you out there”

“I’m the engineer!” he shouted, “Obey me!”

So, shoveling coal as fast as I could while handling the throttle, the train sped out of the Mouse Trap.

How great it was to see light and smell fresh air! But, what of Casey?

Already, the screams of the passengers had ceased. Then, I heard his voice.

“Slow it down, now, will’ya?”

Casey had made it! He continued his grip on the roof, till I slowed down enough so he could push himself back through that window.

That day, Casey and I exceeded the record to Chicago by nearly an hour! That would mean big things for us-Now we’d have a reputation to live up to!

I did not know it then, but one day, Casey and I would be at the helm of The Cannonball Express-our dream come true!

-And the last dream Casey would ever have.

That’s the life of this brave engineer
-A life that  he held so dear
Soon after Casey married a loving wife
But would forfeit all so others’d have life