_
* * * * *
THE LAST STATION.
He had been sick at one of the hotels for three or four weeks, and the boys
on the road had dropped in daily to see how he got along, and to learn if
they could render him any kindness. The brakeman was a good fellow, and one
and all encouraged him in the hope that he would pull through. The doctor
didn't regard the case as dangerous; but the other day the patient began
sinking, and it was seen that he could not live the night out. A dozen of
his friends sat in the room when night came, but his mind wandered and he
did not recognize them.
It was near one of the depots, and after the great trucks and noisy drays
had ceased rolling by, the bells and the short, sharp whistles of the yard-
engines sounded painfully loud. The patient had been very quiet for half an
hour, when he suddenly unclosed his eyes and shouted:
"Kal-a-ma-zoo!"
One of the men brushed the hair back from the cold forehead, and the
brakeman closed his eyes and was quiet for a time.
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