“I jumped up and made the engineer promise to take Jim in his stead. He said ‘yes,’ and I went to tell Jim that he might go, and to explain his duties to him. We were to leave at six o’clock Sunday morning, and I left Jim’s house early so as to let him sleep enough to get up early the next morning.
“Sunday morning came, and, by Jove! I never saw a more beautiful morning again. The birds were singing most glorious, and the sun shining through the heavy dew drops, made them look like so many diamonds.
“Before you get to Kohala, you have to come to a steep, curved incline. We always whistled for ‘brakes’ when we got there and I had explained to Jim that when we’d blow three whistles, he was to apply the brakes. He said he understood and took his seat on a brake, one of them circular kind that you turn with your hand, you know. He sat on the last box car, but there were a whole lot of flat cars back of him.
“We started off; Jim enjoying the air, and I, happy in thinking that I had been able to give the poor fellow such pleasure. By and by we came near that curve and the engineer blew the whistle for brakes. Before we started, Jim seemed to understand the signals, but now the cars were coming down that hill faster than I had ever seen them before.
“‘What’s the matter with that brakeman?’ the engineer asked me.
“‘I dunno,’ I said, ‘unless he’s fallen off.’
“‘Maybe that’s it,’ the engineer told me, ‘when we get to the bottom of this, we’d better see.’ So when we got to the foot of the hill, he stopped the engine and we walked back.
“It was at the beginning of the curve that we found Jim. Yes, he had fallen off. Poor fellow; ten flat cars had gone over him, and there was mighty little left of him. He had been cutting up some tobacco for his pipe, and we found his pipe and a plug of tobacco and his knife lying near him. I’ve got the knife at home now.
“When we got back from Kohala, I packed up and came to Honolulu. I couldn’t stand any more railroading.
“That’s why, I can’t bear cars of any sort. Do you blame me?”