Q. What hour did you leave?
A. I left at three o'clock in the morning, and got to Derry about seven, and returned. Coming back, before I got to the city, the other side of Walls station, I remarked to my fireman, that I thought there must be a wreck on the road. We had met no freights. We should have met some east of that, several miles. But paid no attention much to it, until I came in sight of Walls station. The accommodation is due there, then, twelve-forty, and I just remarked that if there was a wreck, I suppose they could run the accommodation round, as they often did, in such cases. When I came down—the conductor lives just a little way below—he got on my engine and rode down with me, and I asked him what was the matter, there was nothing out. He just made the remark, that the boys would not let anything go out this morning. That is the first intimation I had of anything, or I believe even the crews. They did not seem to know anything about it.
Q. What time was that?
A. It was about twelve-forty. We came on to the city unmolested by any person, until we came to Torrens station, that is a little way from East Liberty. There was a crowd there, but didn't seem to be doing anything—nobody was doing anything. We had some work to do, to put some cars in or something, and I just remarked to the crowd that was on the other side, says I, "What's going on here?" Says one, "Lots of fun." Mr. Garrett, the train master, gave the signal to me, and we went on, and came down to Twenty-eighth street, and what astonished me more than anything else was the crowd that was there, and the few people that I knew. They were strangers to me. At Twenty-eighth street I could not recognize but a few of our own men. They were all strangers to me. I passed on down with the train, took it to the west end of the yard, and put it away, and backed up my engine to the round-house, and put it in the round-house, and went home. Then I hadn't had any dinner—it was nearly three o'clock. I went home to dinner, and I didn't come up that afternoon, I don't think, again. I was up the next day around, but there was nothing going out, and the way we were running—some one remarked to me, I could not tell who it was—says he, "Go ahead, you can go in, but you can't go out." Says I, "Never mind, it is not my turn to go out."
Q. Were you put on Friday?
A. Yes; I was about.
Q. Was you ready to take out your train?
A. I was ready, and came up there on Friday. One of the officers remarked to me, there was nothing going out. It seemed to be this way: that if they got a train ready and the engine, there was no crew, and if you got a crew, there was no engine or anything else there. Some of the officers remarked to me that the Philadelphia soldiers were coming in, and everything would go on then as usual. I think I went home, and I didn't come back again that night. In the morning—Saturday morning, six o'clock—I was sent for to come up and go out. I believe before I had my breakfast. As soon as I got breakfast I went out, but I didn't see nothing for me to go out on, and I stood around there until eleven o'clock on Saturday, I think eleven or twelve, and I then just remarked to the foreman—I think it was the foreman, in the round-house—that I was going down home, and that if they wanted me, to send a watchman down to me, I would be at home—I would not be away from home. I said to my family, I believed I would go to bed and take some sleep, for I might have to come out to-night. I suppose it was fortunate for me I was not up in the crowd at the time of the shooting. I might have been there.
Q. Were you ready at all times to take out your train?
A. Provided everything had been all right I would. I would not like the idea of starting out there on Sunday morning. I didn't think I would like to take out a train then.