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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:19:16 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:19:16 -0700 |
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diff --git a/25868-h/25868-h.htm b/25868-h/25868-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b85299a --- /dev/null +++ b/25868-h/25868-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13205 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Young Railroaders, by Francis Lovell Coombs</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.4em} + h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 110%; } + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; color: silver; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.6em} + + h1 { text-align: center; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Young Railroaders, by Francis Lovell +Coombs, Illustrated by F. B. Masters</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Young Railroaders</p> +<p> Tales of Adventure and Ingenuity</p> +<p>Author: Francis Lovell Coombs</p> +<p>Release Date: June 21, 2008 [eBook #25868]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG RAILROADERS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>THE</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>YOUNG RAILROADERS</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE NEXT MOMENT THE MIDWAY JUNCTION GHOST STEPPED<br /> +GRIMLY FROM HIS BOX. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em; margin-top:1em;'>THE</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em; margin-bottom:1em;'>YOUNG RAILROADERS</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>TALES OF ADVENTURE</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>AND INGENUITY</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>F. LOVELL COOMBS</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>With Illustrations</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em; margin-bottom:1em;'>by F. B. MASTERS</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> + +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:1em;'>NEW YORK</p> +<p>THE CENTURY CO.</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:1em;'>1910</p> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>Copyright, 1909, 1910, by</p> +<p>The Century Co.</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>Published September, 1910</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>Electrotyped and Printed by</p> +<p>C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.0em; margin-top:1em;'>To</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:1em;'>B. R. C. AND K. L. C.</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.0em;'>A REMEMBRANCE</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>I. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>One Kind Of Wireless </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_ONE_KIND_OF_WIRELESS'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>II. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>An Original Emergency Battery </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_AN_ORIGINAL_EMERGENCY_BATTERY'>24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>III. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Tinker Who Made Good </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_A_TINKER_WHO_MADE_GOOD'>38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>IV. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Other Tinker Also Makes Good </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_OTHER_TINKER_ALSO_MAKES_GOOD'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>V. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>An Electrical Detective </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_AN_ELECTRICAL_DETECTIVE'>68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>VI. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Jack Has His Adventure </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_JACK_HAS_HIS_ADVENTURE'>86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>VII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Race Through The Flames </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_A_RACE_THROUGH_THE_FLAMES'>102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>VIII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Secret Telegram </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_SECRET_TELEGRAM'>117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>IX. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Jack Plays Reporter, With Unexpected Results </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_JACK_PLAYS_REPORTER_WITH_UNEXPECTED_RESULTS'>132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>X. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Runaway Train </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_A_RUNAWAY_TRAIN'>146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XI. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Haunted Station </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_THE_HAUNTED_STATION'>163</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>In A Bad Fix, And Out </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_IN_A_BAD_FIX_AND_OUT'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XIII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Professor Click, Mind Reader </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_PROFESSOR_CLICK_MIND_READER'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XIV. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Last Of The Freight Thieves </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_THE_LAST_OF_THE_FREIGHT_THIEVES'>225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XV. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Dude Operator </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_DUDE_OPERATOR'>246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XVI. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Dramatic Flagging </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_A_DRAMATIC_FLAGGING'>262</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XVII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Wilson Again Distinguishes Himself </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_WILSON_AGAIN_DISTINGUISHES_HIMSELF'>279</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XVIII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>With The Construction Train </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_WITH_THE_CONSTRUCTION_TRAIN'>295</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XIX. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Enemy’s Hand Again, And A Capture </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_THE_ENEMY_S_HAND_AGAIN_AND_A_CAPTURE'>310</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XX. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Prisoner </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_A_PRISONER'>325</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXI. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Turning The Tables </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_TURNING_THE_TABLES'>337</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXII. </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Defense Of The Viaduct </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_THE_DEFENSE_OF_THE_VIADUCT'>357</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>ILLUSTRATIONS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto'> +<col style='width:80%;' /> +<col style='width:20%;' /> +<tr> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The next moment the Midway Junction ghost stepped grimly from his box.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Now I am going to cut your cords,” Alex went on softly.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Held it over the bull’s-eye, alternately covering and uncovering the stream of light.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Threw himself at the front door, pounding upon it with his fists.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In the middle of the floor, the center of all eyes, hurriedly working with chisel and hammer.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_5'>34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>He was gazing into the barrel of a revolver.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_6'>58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>But the response click did not come.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_7'>64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The clerk was colorless, but only faltered an instant.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_8'>78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“There!” said Jack, pointing in triumph.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_9'>84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Looped it over the topmost strand, near one of the posts.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_10'>94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>There, in the corner of the big barn, Jack sent as he had never sent before.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_11'>100</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>With a rush they dashed into the wall of smoke.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_12'>108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Closer came the roaring monster.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_13'>114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Come on! Come on!” exclaimed the man in the doorway.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_14'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“How did you do it, Smarty?” snapped the shorter man.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_15'>130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>They whirled by, and the rest was lost.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_16'>154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The engineer stepped down from his cab to grasp Alex’s hand.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_17'>158</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The wait was not long.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_18'>162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Jack made out a thin, clean-shaven face bending over a dark-lantern.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_19'>176</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The stranger drew the chair immediately before him, and seating himself, leaned forward secretively.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_20'>182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“And it’s awfully like the light, jumpy sending of a girl!”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_21'>196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The next instant Jack felt himself hurled out into the darkness.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_22'>234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>He saw the detective led by, his arms bound behind him.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_23'>242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Jack rose to his knees, and began working his way forward from tie to tie.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_24'>272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>With the sharp words he again grasped the key.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_25'>276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>With the boys’ prisoner securely bound to the saddle of the wandering horse, the Indian was off<br />across the plain.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_26'>372</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Indian pulled up in a cloud of dust.</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_27'>376</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em;'>THE YOUNG RAILROADERS</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em;'>THE YOUNG RAILROADERS</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_ONE_KIND_OF_WIRELESS' id='I_ONE_KIND_OF_WIRELESS'></a> +<h2>I</h2> +<h3>ONE KIND OF WIRELESS</h3> +</div> + +<p>When, after school that afternoon, Alex Ward +waved a good-by to his father, the Bixton +station agent for the Middle Western, and set off +up the track on the spring’s first fishing, he had +little thought of exciting experiences ahead of him. +Likewise, when two hours later a sudden heavy +shower found him in the woods three miles from home, +and with but three small fish, it was only with feelings +of disappointment that he wound up his line and ran +for the shelter of an old log-cabin a hundred yards +back from the stream. +</p> +<p>Scarcely had Alex reached the doorway of the +deserted house when he was startled by a chorus of +excited voices from the rear. He turned quickly to +a window, and with a cry sprang back out of sight. +Emerging from the woods, excitedly talking and gesticulating, +was a party of foreigners who had been +working on the track near Bixton, and in their midst, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +his hands bound behind him, was Hennessy, their +foreman. +</p> +<p>For a moment Alex stood rooted to the spot. +What did it mean? Suddenly realizing his own possible +danger, he caught up his rod and fish, and sprang +for the door. +</p> +<p>On the threshold he sharply halted. In the open he +would be seen at once, and pursued! He turned and +cast a quick glance round the room. The ladder to the +loft! He darted for it, scrambled up, and drew himself +through the opening just as the excited foreigners +poured in through the door below. For some moments +afraid to move, Alex lay on his back, listening to the +hubbub beneath him, and wondering in terror what the +trackmen intended doing with their prisoner. Then, +gathering courage at their continued ignorance of his +presence, he cautiously moved back to the opening and +peered down. +</p> +<p>The men were gathered in the center of the room, +all talking at once. But he could not see the foreman. +As he leaned farther forward heavy footfalls sounded +about the end of the house, and Big Tony, a huge +Italian who had recently been discharged from the +gang, appeared in the doorway. +</p> +<p>“We puta him in da barn,” he announced in broken +English; for the rest of the gang were Poles. “Tomaso, +he watcha him.” +</p> +<p>“An’ now listen,” continued the big trackman +fiercely, as the rest gathered about him. “I didn’t +tell everyt’ing. Besides disa man Hennessy he say +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +cuta da wage, an’ send for odders take your job, he +tella da biga boss you no worka good, so da biga boss +he no pay you for all da last mont’!” +</p> +<p>The ignorantly credulous Poles uttered a shout of +rage. Several cried: “Keel him! Keel him!” Alex, +in the loft, drew back in terror. +</p> +<p>“No! Dere bettera way dan dat,” said Tony. +“Da men to taka your job come to-night on da Nomber +Twent’. I hava da plan. +</p> +<p>“You alla know da old track dat turn off alonga da +riv’ to da old brick-yard? Well, hunerd yard from da +main line da old track she washed away. We will +turn da old switch, Nomber Twent’ she run on da old +track—an’ swoosh! Into da riv’!” +</p> +<p>Run No. 20 into the river! Alex almost cried aloud. +And he knew the plan would succeed—that, as Big +Tony said, a hundred yards from the main-line track +the old brick-yard siding embankment was washed out +so that the rails almost hung in the air. +</p> +<p>“Dena we all say,” went on Big Tony, “we alla +say, Hennessy, he do it. We say we caughta him. +See?” +</p> +<p>Again Alex glanced down, and with hope he saw +that some of the Poles were hesitating. But Tony +quickly added: “An’ no one else be kill buta da strike-break’. +No odder peoples on da Nomber Twent’ disa +day at night. An’ da trainmen dey alla have plent’ +time to jomp. +</p> +<p>“Only da men wat steala your job,” he repeated +craftily. And with a sinking heart Alex saw that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +the rest of the easily excitable foreigners had been +won. +</p> +<p>Again he moved back out of sight. Something must +be done! If he could only reach the barn and free the +foreman! +</p> +<p>But of course the first thing to do was to make his +own escape from the house. He rose on his elbow and +glanced about. +</p> +<p>At the far end of the loft a glimmer of light through +a crack seemed to indicate a door. Cautiously Alex +rose to his knees, and began creeping forward to investigate. +When half way a loud creak of the boards +brought him to a halt with his heart in his mouth. +But the loud conversation below continued, and heartily +thanking the drumming rain on the roof overhead, +Alex moved on, and finally reached his goal. +</p> +<p>As he had hoped, it was a small door. Feeling cautiously +about, he found it to be secured by a hook. +When he sought to raise the catch, however, it resisted. +Evidently it had not been lifted for many +years, and had rusted to the staple. Carefully Alex +threw his weight upward against it. It still refused +to move. He pushed harder, and suddenly it gave +with a piercing screech. +</p> +<p>Instantly the talking below ceased, and Alex stood +rigid, scarcely breathing. Then a voice exclaimed, +“Up de stair!” quick footsteps crossed the floor +towards the ladder, and in a panic of fear Alex threw +himself bodily against the door, in a mad endeavor to +force it. But it still held, and with a thrill of despair +he dropped flat to the floor, and saw the foreigner’s +head come above the opening. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +<img src='images/illus-008.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +“NOW I AM GOING TO CUT YOUR CORDS,” ALEX WENT ON<br /> +SOFTLY. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<p>There, however, the man paused, and turned to +gaze about, listening. For a brief space, while only +the rain on the roof broke the silence, the foreigner +apparently looked directly at the boy on the floor, and +Alex’s heart seemed literally to stand still. But at +last, after what appeared an interminable time, the +man again turned, and withdrew, and with a sigh of +relief Alex heard him say to those below, “Only de +wind, dat’s all.” +</p> +<p>Waiting until the buzz of conversation had been +fully resumed, Alex rose once more to his knees, and +began a cautious examination of the door. The cause +of its refusal to open was soon apparent. The old +hinges had given, allowing it to sag and catch against +a raised nail-head in the sill. +</p> +<p>Promptly Alex stood upright, grasped one of the +cross-pieces, carefully lifted, and in another moment +the door swung silently outward. +</p> +<p>With a glance Alex saw that the way was clear, and +quickly lowering himself by his hands, dropped. Here +the rain once more helped him. On the wet, soggy +ground he alighted with scarcely a sound. Momentarily, +however, though he now breathed easily for the +first time since he had entered the house, he stood, listening. +The excited talking inside went on uninterruptedly, +and moving to the corner, he peered about +in the direction of the barn. +</p> +<p>Leaning in the doorway, smoking, and most fortunately, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +with his back towards the house, was the +Italian, Tomaso. Beyond doubt the foreman was inside! +</p> +<p>At the rear of the barn, and some hundred feet from +where Alex stood, was a small cow-stable. Alex determined +to make an effort to reach it, and see if +from there he could not get, unseen, into the barn +itself. +</p> +<p>The Italian continued to smoke peacefully, and +with his eyes constantly on him Alex stepped forth, +and set off across the clearing on tiptoe. The guard +puffed on, and he neared the stable. Then suddenly +the man moved, and made as though to turn. But +with a bound Alex shot forward on the run, made the +remaining distance, and was out of view. +</p> +<p>The rear door of the stable was open. On tiptoe +Alex made his way inside. The door leading into the +barn also was ajar. With bated breath, pausing after +each step, Alex went forward, reached it, and peered +within. +</p> +<p>Yes, the foreman was there, a dim figure sitting on +the floor a few feet from him. But the outer doorway, +in which stood the man on guard, also was only a few +feet away, and at once Alex saw that the problem of +reaching the foreman without being discovered was +to be a difficult one. Trusting to the now gathering +gloom of the twilight, however, Alex determined to +make a try. Opening his knife and holding it in his +teeth, he sank to the floor, and began slowly worming +his way forward, flat on his stomach. It was a nerve-trying +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +ordeal. A dozen times he was sure the crackling +straw had betrayed him. But pluckily he kept +on, inch by inch, and finally was almost within touch +of the unsuspecting prisoner. +</p> +<p>Then very softly he hissed. Sharply, as he had +feared, the foreman twisted about. But at the moment, +by great good luck, the foreigner at the door +turned to knock his pipe against the door-post, and +hurriedly Alex whispered, “Don’t move, Mr. Hennessy! +It’s Alex Ward! I was in the old house, and +saw them bring you up. +</p> +<p>“And, Mr. Hennessy, they plan to run Twenty into +the river to-night. Tony told them there were strike-breakers +aboard her to take their places.” +</p> +<p>In spite of himself the foreman uttered a low exclamation. +At once the man in the door turned. But +with quick presence of mind the prisoner changed the +exclamation to a loud cough, and after a moment, +while Alex lay holding his breath, the Italian turned +his attention again to his pipe. +</p> +<p>“Now I am going to cut your cords,” Alex went +on softly. “Be careful not to let your arms seem to +be free.” +</p> +<p>The foreman nodded. +</p> +<p>“There,” announced Alex as the twine dropped +from the prisoner’s wrists. +</p> +<p>“Now, what shall we do? There is a door behind +you into the cow-stable—the one I came in by. Suppose +you work back towards it as far as you dare, +then make a dash for it?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></p> +<p>“Good,” whispered the foreman over his shoulder. +“But you get out first.” +</p> +<p>“All right,” responded Alex, and immediately began +moving backwards, feet first, as he had come. +</p> +<p>Their escape was to be made more easy, however. +At the moment from the house came a call. The man +in the doorway stepped out to reply, and in an instant +seeing the opportunity both Alex and the foreman +were on their feet, and had darted out into the stable. +</p> +<p>“Now for a sprint!” said the foreman. +</p> +<p>“Or, say, suppose I hide here in the stable,” suggested +Alex. “They don’t know of my being here. +Then as soon as the way is clear I can get off in the +opposite direction, and one of us would be sure to +get away.” +</p> +<p>“Good idea,” agreed the foreman. “All right, +you—” +</p> +<p>There came a loud cry from the barn, and instantly +he was off, and Alex, darting back, crept low under +a stall-box. As he did so the Italian dashed by and +out, and uttered a second cry as he discovered the fleeing +foreman. From the house came an answer, then +a chorus of shouts that told the rest of the gang had +joined in the chase. +</p> +<p>Alex lay still until the last sound of pursuit had +died away, then slipped forth, glanced sharply about, +and dashed off for the woods in the direction of the +river and the railroad bridge. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +<img src='images/illus-014.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +HELD IT OVER THE BULL’S-EYE, ALTERNATELY COVERING AND<br /> +UNCOVERING THE STREAM OF LIGHT. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></div> +<p>The adventure was not yet over, however. Alex +had almost reached the shelter of the trees, and was +already congratulating himself on his safety, when +suddenly from the opposite side of the clearing rose +a shout of “De boy! De boy!” Glancing back in +alarm he saw several of the Poles cutting across in an +endeavor to head him off. +</p> +<p>Onward he dashed with redoubled speed. With a +final rush he reached the trees ahead of them, and +plunging into the friendly gloom, darted on recklessly, +diving between trunks, and over logs and bushes like +a young hare. +</p> +<p>A quarter of a mile Alex ran desperately, then +halted, panting, to listen. Not a sound save his own +breathing broke the stillness. Surely, thought Alex, +I haven’t shaken them off that easily, unless they +were already winded from their chase after— +</p> +<p>Off to the right rose a shrill whistle. From immediately +to the left came an answer. Then he understood. +They were heading him off from the railroad +and the river spur. +</p> +<p>Alex’s heart sank, and momentarily he stood, in +despair. Then suddenly he thought of the old brick-yard. +It lay less than a mile north, and was full of +good hiding-places! If he could reach it ahead of +them, what with the daylight now rapidly failing, he +would almost certainly be safe. At once he turned, +and was off with renewed vigor. +</p> +<p>And finally, utterly exhausted, but cheered through +not having heard a sound from his pursuers for the +last quarter mile, Alex stumbled into the clearing of +the abandoned brick-works, ran low for a distance +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +under cover of a long drying-frame, and scrambling +through the low doorway of an old tile oven, threw +himself upon the floor, done out, but confident that +at last he was safe. +</p> +<p>As he lay panting and listening, Alex turned his +thoughts again to the train. Had the foreman made +his escape? With so many promptly after him, it +seemed scarcely probable. Then the saving of Twenty +was still upon his own shoulders! +</p> +<p>And there was little time in which to do anything, +for she was due at 7:50, and it must be after 7 already! +</p> +<p>Could he not reach the switch itself, and throw it +back just before the train was due? That would be +surest. And in the rapidly growing darkness there +should be at least a fair chance of getting by any of +the foreigners who might be on the watch. +</p> +<p>Determinedly Alex gathered himself together, and +crawled back to the entrance. Near the doorway he +stumbled over something. “Oh, our old switch lantern!” +he exclaimed, holding it to the light, and momentarily +paused to examine it. For it had been placed +under cover there the previous fall by himself and +some other boys, after being used in a game of +“hold-up” on the brick-yard siding. +</p> +<p>“Just as we left it,” said Alex to himself, and was +about to put it aside, when he paused with a start, +studied it sharply a moment, then uttered a cry, shook +it to see that it still contained oil, and scrambled hurriedly +forth, taking it with him. +</p> +<p>A moment he paused to listen, then set off on the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +run for the old yard semaphore, dimly discernible a +hundred yards distant. Reaching it, he caught the +lantern in his teeth, and ran up the ladder hand over +hand, clambered onto the little platform, and turned +toward the town. +</p> +<p>Yes! Through the trees the station lamps were +plainly visible! With a cry of delight Alex at once set +about carrying out his inspiration. Quickly trimming +the lantern wick, he lit it, with his handkerchief tied +it to the semaphore arm, and turned it so that the +bull’s-eye pointed toward the station. +</p> +<p>Then, catching off his cap, he held it over the bull’s-eye, +and alternately covering and uncovering the +stream of light, began flashing across the darkness +signals that corresponded with the telegraphic call of +the Bixton station. +</p> +<p>“BX,” he flashed. “BX, BX, BX! +</p> +<p>“BX, BX—AW (his private sign)! BX, BX, +AW!” +</p> +<p>The station lights streamed on. +</p> +<p>“Qk! Qk! BX, BX!” called Alex. +</p> +<p>His right hand tired, and he changed to the left. +“Surely they should be on the lookout for me, and see +it,” he told himself. “For when I go fishing I am +always home at—” +</p> +<p>One of the station lights disappeared. Breathlessly +Alex repeated his call, and waited. Was it merely +some one pulling down a blind, or— +</p> +<p>The light appeared again, then disappeared, several +times in quick succession, and Alex uttered a joyful +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +“Hurrah!” and turning his whole attention to the +lamp, that the signals might be perfect, began flashing +across the night his thrilling message of warning: +</p> +<p>“THE FOREIGN TRACK HANDS—” +</p> +<p>From a short distance down the spur came a shout. +Startled, Alex hesitated. Again came a cry, then the +sound of swiftly running feet. +</p> +<p>He had been discovered! In a panic Alex turned +and began to scramble down the ladder. But sharply +he pulled up. No! That would be playing the coward! +He must complete the message! And bravely +choking down his terror, he climbed back onto the +platform, and while the running feet and threatening +cries came nearer every moment, continued his message: +</p> +<p>“HANDS ARE—” +</p> +<p>“Stop dat! Queek! I shoot! I shoot!” cried the +voice of Big Tony, immediately below him. Again +for a moment Alex quailed, then again went bravely +on, while the old semaphore rocked and swayed as the +enraged Italian threw himself at it and scrambled up +toward him. +</p> +<p>“GOING TO RUN—” +</p> +<p>With a plunge the big trackman reached up and +caught him by the ankle, wrenched him back from the +lantern, and clambered up beside him. Catching the +light off the semaphore arm, he thrust it into the boy’s +face. “O ho!” he exclaimed. “So it you, da station-man +boy, eh? An’ you da one whata help Hennessy +get away, eh? +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p> +<p>“An’ whata now you do wid dis?” he demanded +fiercely, indicating the lantern. +</p> +<p>“If you can’t guess, I’m not going to tell you,” declared +Alex stoutly, though his heart was in his throat. +</p> +<p>“O ho! You wonta, eh? Alla right,” said Tony +softly through his teeth, and in a grim silence more +terrifying than the threat of his words, he blew the +lantern out, tossed it to the ground, and proceeding +to clamber down, grasped Alex by the leg and dragged +him down after. +</p> +<p>But help was at hand. As they reached the ground +a second tall figure loomed up suddenly out of the +darkness. “Who dat?” demanded Big Tony. The +answer was a rush, and a blow, and with a throttled +cry of terror the big track worker went to the ground +in a heap, the foreman on top of him. +</p> +<p>Alex uttered a cry of joy, then with quick wit, while +the two men engaged in a terrific struggle, he darted +in search of the lantern, found it, fortunately unbroken, +and in a trice was again running up the semaphore +ladder. +</p> +<p>As he once more reached his post on the platform +the big Italian succeeded in breaking from the foreman, +scrambled to his feet, and dashed off across the +brick-yard. “Come down, Alex. It’s all over,” +called Hennessy, gathering himself up. “And now +we’ve got to hike right off, a mile a minute, for the +main-line if we are to stop that train. They ran me +so far I only just got back. Unless Twenty’s late +we—” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>“I am trying to stop her from up here,” interrupted +Alex, relighting the lantern. +</p> +<p>“Up there? What do you mean?” exclaimed the +foreman. +</p> +<p>“Signalling father at the station, with the telegraph +code,” said Alex as he replaced the lantern on the +semaphore arm. “Come on up.” +</p> +<p>“Al,” said the incredulous foreman as he reached +the platform, “can you really do it?” +</p> +<p>“I had it going when that Italian stopped me. +Watch.” +</p> +<p>But Alex was doomed again to interruption. +Scarcely had he begun once more flashing forth the +telegraph call of the station when from the direction +of the woods came a shout, several answers, then a +rush of feet. +</p> +<p>“Some of the Poles!” exclaimed the foreman. +“But you go ahead, Al, and I’ll see that they don’t +get up to interfere,” he added, determinedly. +</p> +<p>The running figures came dimly into view below. +“If any of you idiots come up here I’ll crack your +heads!” shouted Hennessy, warningly. +</p> +<p>“I’ve got the station again,” announced Alex. +“Now it will take only a few minutes.” +</p> +<p>One of the men below reached the ladder, and, looking +up, shouted threateningly: “Stop dat! Stop dat, +or I shoot!” +</p> +<p>“Go ahead, Al,” said the foreman, looking down. +“He hasn’t a gun.” But even as he spoke there was +a flash and a report, and a thud just over Alex’s head. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></p> +<p>“Yes, stop! Stop!” cried the foreman. “Stop. +They’ve got us. No use being foolhardy.” +</p> +<p>Leaning over, he addressed the men below. “Look +here,” he said, persuasively, “can’t you fellows see +that Big Tony is only using you to make trouble for +me, because I fired him for being drunk? As I told +you at first, everything he has said is untrue. Why +won’t you believe it?” +</p> +<p>The men were silent a moment, then one of them +addressed Alex. “Boy, is dat true?” +</p> +<p>“Every word of it,” said Alex, earnestly. “And +I would have heard all about it at the station if they +had intended cutting your wages, or bringing others +here to take your places.” +</p> +<p>“Den I believe it,” said the Pole. +</p> +<p>The man with the pistol returned it to his pocket. +“I am sorry I shoot,” he said. +</p> +<p>“And now, what about the train?” inquired the +foreman, quickly. “Did you touch the switch?” +</p> +<p>In the look of guilt the foreigners turned on one +another he saw the alarming answer. Whipping out +his watch, he held it to the light. +</p> +<p>“Alex,” he said, sharply, “you have just ten +minutes to catch that train at the Junction! If +you don’t get her she’s gone! There’s not time +now to get down to the main line from here to flag +her!” +</p> +<p>Before he had ceased speaking Alex had his cap +over the light and was once more flashing an urgent +“BX! BX! BX!” while below the foreigners looked +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +on, now with an anxiety equal to that of the two on +the tower. +</p> +<p>“BX! Qk! Qk!” flashed the lantern. +</p> +<p>The station light disappeared. “Got ’em!” cried +Alex. +</p> +<p>“Just tell them first to stop Twenty at the Junction,” +said the foreman. +</p> +<p>“Right,” responded Alex, and while the rest +watched in profound silence, he signaled: +</p> +<p>“STOP NUMBER 20 AT JUNCTION. SPUR +SWITCH IS THROWN. GOT IT?” +</p> +<p>As Alex read off the promptly flashed “OK,” the +foreman sprang to his feet and gave vent to a joyful +hurrah of relief that echoed again in the clearing and +woods. Then, as Alex recovered the lantern, he +caught him under one arm, carried him down the ladder, +and there, despite his objections, hoisted him to +the shoulders of two of the now enthusiastic Poles, +and all set off jubilantly down the spur for the switch, +and home. +</p> +<p>And an hour later Alex’s father and mother, +anxiously awaiting him at the station, discovered +his approach carried at the head of a sort of +triumphal procession of the entire gang of trackmen. +</p> +<p>When Alex’s father the following morning reported +the occurrence to the chief despatcher, that official +called Alex to the wire to congratulate him personally. +</p> +<p>“That was a fine bit of work, my boy,” he clicked. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +“I see you are cut out for the right kind of railroader. +If fourteen wasn’t a bit too young I would give you +a job on the spot. But we will give you a start just +as soon as we can, you may be sure.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_AN_ORIGINAL_EMERGENCY_BATTERY' id='II_AN_ORIGINAL_EMERGENCY_BATTERY'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +<h2>II</h2> +<h3>AN ORIGINAL EMERGENCY BATTERY</h3> +</div> + +<p>One afternoon two weeks later Alex returned +from school to find his father and mother hurriedly +packing his suit-case. +</p> +<p>“Why, what’s up, Dad?” he exclaimed. +</p> +<p>“You are off for Watson Siding in twenty minutes, +to take charge of the station there nights,” said his +father. “The regular man is ill, the despatcher had +no one else to send, and asked for you, and of course +I told him you’d be delighted.” +</p> +<p>“Delighted? Well, rather!” cried Alex, gleefully, +and throwing his school-books into a corner, he dashed +up-stairs to change his clothes, hastily ate a lunch his +mother had prepared, and fifteen minutes later was +hurrying for the depot. +</p> +<p>Needless to say Alex was a proud boy when shortly +after seven o’clock he reached Watson Siding, and at +once took over the station for the night. For it is +not often a lad of fourteen is given such responsibility, +even though brought up on the railroad. +</p> +<p>Alex was soon to learn that the responsibility was a +very real one. The first night passed pleasantly +enough, but early the succeeding night, following a +day of rain, a heavy spring fog set in, and shortly before +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +ten o’clock Alex found, to his alarm, that he could +not make himself heard on the wire by the despatcher. +Evidently there was a heavy escape of current between +them, because of the dampness. +</p> +<p>Again the despatcher called, again Alex sought to +interrupt him, failed, and gave it up. “Now I am +in for trouble,” he said in dismay. “If anything +should—” +</p> +<p>From apparently just without came a low, ominous +rumble, then a crash. Alex started to his feet and +ran to the window. He could see nothing but fog, +and hastily securing a lantern, went out onto the station +platform. +</p> +<p>As he closed the door there was a second terrific +crash, from the darkness immediately opposite, and a +rain of stones rattling against iron. +</p> +<p>“The bank above the siding!” cried Alex, and +springing to the tracks, he dashed across, and with an +exclamation brought up before a mound of earth six +feet high over the siding rails. +</p> +<p>As he gazed Alex felt his heart tighten. The westbound +Sunset Express was due to take the siding in +less than half an hour, to await the Eastern Mail, and +at once he saw that if the engineer misjudged the distance +in the fog, and ran onto the siding at full speed, +there would be a terrible calamity. +</p> +<p>And suppose the cars were thrown onto the main +line track, and the Mail crashed into them! And, apparently, +he could not reach the despatcher, to give +warning of her danger! +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>What could he do to stop them? Helplessly Alex +looked at the lantern in his hand. Its light was +smothered by the fog within ten feet of him. +</p> +<p>Running back to the operating room he seized the +key and once more sought to attract the attention of the +despatcher. It was useless. The despatcher did not +hear him. He sank back in his chair, sick with dread. +</p> +<p>But he must attempt something! Determinedly he +sprang to his feet. A lantern was useless. Then why +not a fire? A big fire on the track? Hurrah! That +was it! But—he gazed at the coal box, and thought +of the rain soaked wood outside, and his heart sank. +Then came remembrance of the big woodshed at the +farm-house where he boarded, three hundred yards +away, and in a moment he had recovered the lantern, +and was out, and off through the darkness, running +desperately. +</p> +<p>On arriving at the house Alex found all in silence, +and the family retired, but without a moment’s hesitation +he threw himself at the front door, pounding +upon it with his fists. +</p> +<p>It seemed an age before a window was raised. +“Mr. Moore,” he cried, “there has been a landslide +in the cut at the station, and there is danger of the +Sunset running into it. May I have wood from the +shed to make a fire on the track to stop her?” +</p> +<p>“Gracious! Certainly, certainly!” exclaimed the +voice from the window. “And the boys and I will +be down in a minute to help you. You run around +and be pulling out some kindling.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +<img src='images/illus-027.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THREW HIMSELF AT THE FRONT DOOR, POUNDING UPON IT<br /> +WITH HIS FISTS. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></div> +<p>Alex darted about to the woodshed, there the farmer +and his two sons soon joined him, and each catching +up an armful of wood, they were quickly off for the +railroad, Alex leading with the lantern. +</p> +<p>Reaching the tracks, they hurried east, and a quarter +mile distant halted, and began hastily building a +huge bonfire between the rails. +</p> +<p>“There,” said Alex, as the flames leaped up, “that +ought to stop her.” +</p> +<p>“And now, Mr. Moore, suppose we leave Dick here +to tend the fire, and you and Billy and I hurry back +to the station, and tackle the earth on the track. We +may get enough off to let the train plow through.” +</p> +<p>“All right, certainly,” agreed the farmer; and retracing +their steps, the three secured shovels and more +lanterns at the depot, and soon were hard at work on +the obstructed siding. +</p> +<p>They had been digging some ten minutes when suddenly +Billy paused. “Listen,” he said. “There’s a +horse coming, on the run.” His father and Alex also +ceased shoveling, and a moment later the quick pounding +of horse’s hoofs was plainly discernible. +</p> +<p>“It must be something urgent to make a man drive +like that in the dark,” said Mr. Moore. +</p> +<p>The racing hoofs drew nearer, and placing his hands +to his mouth he cried: “Hello! What’s up?” +</p> +<p>There was a sound of scrambling and plunging, and +out of the darkness came a man’s excited voice: “How +near am I to the station?” +</p> +<p>“Right here below you!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p> +<p>“Thank God! Run quick and tell the operator +there has been a landslip in the big cutting just beyond +the river! My son discovered it when coming home +by the track from a party! I thought I could get here +quicker than do anything else!” +</p> +<p>For a moment Alex stood speechless at this further +calamity, then once more dashed for the station. To +reach Zeisler, two miles west of the cut, was the only +hope for the Mail. +</p> +<p>Rushing in to the instruments, he in feverish haste began +calling “Z. Z, Z,” he whirled. “Qk! Z, Z, WS!” +</p> +<p>There was no answer. Z heard him no more than +did the despatcher. +</p> +<p>A feeling of despair settled upon the boy. But again +returned the old spirit of determination and contriving, +and spinning about in his chair, he cast his eyes around +the room for some suggestion. They halted at the big +stoneware water-cooler. With a cry he was on his +feet, thinking rapidly. +</p> +<p>Only a few hours before, during an idle moment, +the similarity of the big jar to a gravity cell had occurred +to him, and the speculation as to whether it +could not be turned into a battery if need be. +</p> +<p>Could he really make a battery of it? If he could, +undoubtedly it would be strong enough to so increase +the current in the wire that both Zeisler and the despatcher +could hear him. +</p> +<p>He ran to a little storage closet at the rear of the +room. Yes; there was enough bluestone! But no +copper, or zinc! What could he do for that? +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p> +<p>As though directed by Providence, his gaze fell on +the floor-board of the office stove. It was covered with +a sheet of zinc! And even as he uttered a glad +“Good!” there came the remembrance that at the +house that afternoon he had seen a fine new wash-boiler—with +a thick copper bottom. +</p> +<p>“That’s it,” cried Alex, again catching up the lantern +and darting for the door. +</p> +<p>A short distance from the depot Alex was halted by +a long, muffled whistle from the east. “The Express,” +he exclaimed, and in keen anxiety awaited the next +whistle. Would it be for the crossing this side of the +bonfire, or— +</p> +<p>It came, a series of quick, sharp toots. Yes; they +had seen the fire! +</p> +<p>“Thank Heaven! She’s safe at any rate,” said +Alex, at once running on. +</p> +<p>A few minutes later he burst into Mrs. Moore’s +kitchen. The farmer’s wife was at the stove, preparing +coffee for them. +</p> +<p>“Mrs. Moore, where is your new copper-bottomed +boiler? I must have it, quick,” said Alex. +</p> +<p>“What! My new wash-boiler?” +</p> +<p>“Yes; the copper-bottomed one. It’s a matter of +life and death!” +</p> +<p>The astonished woman hesitated, then, wonderingly, +pointed toward the outer kitchen. Alex ran +thither, and quickly reappeared with the fine new +boiler on his shoulder. +</p> +<p>“And I must have that kettle of boiling water,” he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +added, on a thought. “I’ll explain later.” And +catching it from the stove, he rushed away. +</p> +<p>As he ran Alex further thought out his plans, and +once more at the station, he placed the kettle on the +office stove, emptied the bluestone into it, and poked +up the fire. +</p> +<p>Then, with a hammer and chisel, he attacked the +copper bottom of the boiler. +</p> +<p>He was still pounding and cutting when presently +there was the sound of hurried footsteps without, the +door flew open, and a voice exclaimed: “In Heaven’s +name, young man, what are you doing? Why are you +not at your wire, trying to stop the other train?” +</p> +<p>It was none other than the division superintendent +of the road, who had been aboard the Sunset. +</p> +<p>Only pausing a moment in his work, Alex replied: +“I can’t reach anybody, sir, the wire is so weak. I +am making a battery of that water-cooler, to +strengthen it. It’s the only hope, sir.” +</p> +<p>The superintendent uttered a horrified exclamation, +then quickly added: “Here, can’t I help you?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Alex, promptly. “Lift up the +stove and slide out the floor-board. I must have the +sheet of zinc off it.” +</p> +<p>And a few minutes later a group of passengers from +the stalled train, seeking the cause of delay, paused +in the doorway to gaze in blank astonishment at the +spectacle of the division superintendent of the Middle +Western, his coat off, energetically working under the +direction of his youngest operator. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a> +<img src='images/illus-034.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR, THE CENTER OF ALL EYES,<br /> +HURRIEDLY WORKING WITH CHISEL AND HAMMER. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></div> +<p>“There you are, my lad,” said the superintendent. +“What next?” +</p> +<p>“Get a stick, sir, and stir the bluestone in the kettle. +We must have it dissolved if the battery is to work +the moment we connect it to the wire.” +</p> +<p>The copper bottom of the boiler was at last cut +through, and hastily doubling it over several times, +in order that it would lie flat in the crock, Alex turned +his attention to the zinc on the stove-board. +</p> +<p>The scene in the little station had now become +dramatic—the crowd of passengers, increased until it +half filled the room, looking on in strained silence, or +talking in whispers; the tall figure of the superintendent +at the stove, busily stirring the kettle, and in the +middle of the floor, the center of all eyes, the fourteen-year-old +boy hurriedly working with chisel and hammer, +seemingly only conscious of the task before him +and the necessity of making the most of every minute. +</p> +<p>The zinc was cut, and hurriedly folding it as he had +the copper, Alex sprang to his feet, and running to +the cupboard, dragged out a bundle of wire, and began +sorting out a number of short ends. +</p> +<p>“How much longer?” said the superintendent in a +tense voice. “The train should be at Zeisler now.” +</p> +<p>“Just a minute. But she’s sure to be a little late, +from the fog,” said Alex, hopefully, never pausing. +“Has the bluestone dissolved, sir?” +</p> +<p>“All but a few lumps.” +</p> +<p>“Then that’ll do. Now please lift down the water-cooler, +sir, and place it by the table.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></p> +<p>As the superintendent complied all conversation +ceased, and the crowd, moving hurriedly out of the +way, looked on breathlessly, then turned to Alex, on +his knees, fastening two pieces of wire to the squares +of copper and zinc. +</p> +<p>This done, Alex dropped the square of copper to +the bottom of the big jar, hung the zinc from the top, +connected one wire end to the ground connection at +the switchboard, and the other to the side of the key. +And the task was complete. +</p> +<p>“Now the kettle, sir,” he said, dropping into his +chair. The superintendent seized the kettle, and emptied +its blue-green liquid into the cooler. The moment +the water had covered the zinc Alex opened his key. +</p> +<p>It worked strongly and sharply. +</p> +<p>“Thank God! Thank God!” said the superintendent, +fervently. “Now, hurry, boy!” +</p> +<p>Already Alex was whirring off a string of letters. +“Z, Z, Z, WS!” he called. “Qk! Qk! Z, Z—” +</p> +<p>The line opened, and at the quick sharp dots that +came Alex could not restrain a cry of triumph. “It +works! I’ve got him,” he exclaimed. Then rapidly +he sent: +</p> +<p>“Has Number 12 passed?” +</p> +<p>The line again opened, and over the boy leaned a +circle of white, anxious faces. Had the train passed? +Had it gone on to destruction? Or— +</p> +<p>The instruments clicked. “No! No! He says, +no!” cried Alex. +</p> +<p>And then, while the crowd about him relieved its +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +pent-up feelings in wild shouts and hurrahs, Alex +quickly sent the order to stop the train. +</p> +<p>“And now three good cheers for the little operator,” +said one of the passengers as Alex closed his +key. In confusion Alex drew back in his chair, then +suddenly recollecting the others who had taken part +in the night’s work, he told the superintendent of the +part played by Mr. Moore and his sons, and of the +sacrifice of Mrs. Moore’s new wash-boiler. +</p> +<p>“And then there was the man on the horse, who +told us of the slide in the cut across the river. He +was the real one to save the Mail,” said Alex, modestly. +</p> +<p>“I see you are as fair as you are ingenious,” said +the superintendent, smiling. “We’ll look after them +all, you may be sure. By the first express Mrs. Moore +shall have two, instead of one, of the finest boilers +money can buy. And as for you, my boy, I’ll see that +you are given a permanent station within a year, if +you wish to take it. We need resourceful operators +like you.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_A_TINKER_WHO_MADE_GOOD' id='III_A_TINKER_WHO_MADE_GOOD'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +<h2>III</h2> +<h3>A TINKER WHO MADE GOOD</h3> +</div> + +<p>Most telegraph operators, young operators especially, +have a number of over-the-wire +friends. Alex Ward’s particular telegraph chum was +Jack Orr, or “OR,” as he knew him on the wire, a +lad of just his own age, son of the proprietor of the +drug-store in which the town, or commercial, office +was located at Haddowville, a small place at the end +of the line. The two boys had become warm friends +through “sending” for one another’s improvement in +“reading,” in the evenings when the wire was idle; +but also because of the similarities of taste they had +discovered. Both were fond of experimenting, and +learning the “why and wherefore” of things electrical. +</p> +<p>And not infrequently they got themselves into +trouble, as young investigators will. +</p> +<p>One evening that summer, the instruments being +silent, Jack, at Haddowville, bethought himself of +taking the relay, the main receiving instrument, to +pieces, to discover exactly how the wire connections +in the base were arranged. To think with Jack was +to act. Half an hour later his father, entering with +an important message, found Jack with the instrument +in a dozen pieces. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>Mr. Orr viewed the muss with consternation. Then +he spoke sharply. “Jack, if that relay is not together +again, and working, in five minutes, I’ll take you out +to the woodshed!” Needless to say, Jack threw himself +into the restoring of the instrument with ardor, +while his father stood grimly by. And fortunately the +relay was in its place again, and clicking, within the +prescribed time. +</p> +<p>“But don’t let me ever catch you tinkering with the +instruments again,” said Jack’s father warningly, as +he gave Jack the message to send. “Another time +it’ll be the woodshed whether you get them together +or no. Remember!” +</p> +<p>Shortly after midnight the night following Jack +suddenly found himself sitting up in bed, wondering +what had awakened him. From the street below came +the sound of running feet, simultaneously the window +lighted with a yellow glare, and with a bound and an +exclamation of “Fire!” Jack was across the room and +peering out. +</p> +<p>“Jones’ coal sheds! Or the station!” he ejaculated, +and in a moment was back at the bedside, dressing as +only a boy can dress for a fire. Running to his parents’ +bedroom he told them of his going, and was down the +stairs and out into the street in a trice. +</p> +<p>Dim figures of men and other boys were hurrying +by in the direction of the town fire-hall, a block distant, +and on the run Jack also headed thither. For +to help pull the fire-engine or hose-cart to a fire was +the ardent hobby of every lad in town. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p> +<p>A half dozen members of the volunteer fire company +and as many boys were at the doors when Jack arrived, +and the fire chief, already equipped with helmet +and speaking-trumpet, was fumbling at the lock. +</p> +<p>“Where is it, Billy?” inquired Jack of a boy acquaintance. +</p> +<p>“They say it’s the station and freight shed, and +Johnson’s lumber yard, and the coal sheds—the whole +shooting match,” said Billy, hopefully. +</p> +<p>“Bully!” responded Jack; who, never having seen +his own home in flames, likewise regarded fires as +the most thrilling sort of entertainment. +</p> +<p>“Out of the way!” cried the chief. The big doors +swung open, and with a rush the little crowd divided +and went at the old-fashioned hand-engine and the +hose-cart. Billy and Jack secured the particular prize, +the head of the engine drag-rope, and like a pair of +young colts pranced out with it to its full length. +Others seized it, and with the cry of “Let ’er go!” +they went rumbling forth, and swung up the street. +</p> +<p>The hose-cart, with its automatic gong, clanged out +immediately after, and the race that always occurred +was on. The engine of course had the start, but the +hose-cart, a huge two-wheeled reel, about which the +hose was wound, was much lighter, and speedily was +clanging abreast of them. Here, however, Big Ed. +Hicks, the blacksmith, and Nick White, a colored +giant, rushed up, dodged beneath the rope, and took +their accustomed places at the tongue, and with a +burst of speed the engine began to draw ahead. Other +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +firemen appeared from side streets and banging doorways, +and took their places on the rope, and a shout +from the juvenile contingent presently announced that +the reel was falling to the rear. +</p> +<p>Meanwhile the glare in the sky had brightened and +spread; and when at last the rumbling engine swung +into the station road the whole sky was ablaze. Overhead, +before a stiff wind, large embers and sparks were +beginning to fly. +</p> +<p>With a dash the panting company swept into the +station square. Before them the station and adjoining +freight-shed were enveloped in flames from end +to end. It was apparent at once that there was no +possibility of saving either. But with a final rush the +engine-squad made for the fire-well at the corner of +the square, brought up all-standing, and in a jiffy the +intake pipe was unstrapped and dropped into the water. +The reel clanged up, two of its crew sprang for the +engine with the hose-end and couplers, and the cart +sped on, peeling the hose out behind it. +</p> +<p>The speed with which they could get into action +was a matter of pride with the Haddowville firemen. +Almost before the coupling had been made at the +engine the men and boys at the long pumping-bars +were working them gently; within the minute a shout +from the cart announced that the hose was being +broken, the pumpers threw themselves into the work +with zest, and the next moment from the distant nozzle +shot a sputtering stream. +</p> +<p>With the other boys, Jack, though now considerably +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +winded, was throwing himself energetically up and +down against one of the long handles. Before many +minutes, however, the remainder of the regular enginemen +appeared, and took their places, and presently +Jack also was ousted. +</p> +<p>At once he set off for a closer view of the fire. +Half way he was halted by a call. +</p> +<p>“Hi, Jack! Come and help push the freight cars!” +</p> +<p>The shout came from a group of boys running for +the rear of the burning freight-shed, and responding +with alacrity, Jack joined them, and soon, just beyond +the burning building, was pushing against the corner +of a slowly moving box-car with all his might. +</p> +<p>One car was rolled safely out of the danger zone, +and Jack’s party hastened back for another. The innermost +of the remaining cars, and on a separate siding, +was but a short distance from the flaming shed, +and already was blazing on the roof. Jack and several +other adventurous spirits determined to tackle this one +on their own account. After much straining they got +it in motion. +</p> +<p>Suddenly a wildly excited figure appeared rushing +through the smoke, and shouted at the top of his voice, +“Get back! Get back! There’s blasting powder in +that car!” +</p> +<p>In a twinkle there was a wild stampede. And but +just in time. With a blinding flash and a roar like +a thunderbolt, the car shot into the air in a million +pieces. Many persons in the vicinity were thrown +violently to the ground, including Jack. As he scrambled, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +thoroughly frightened, to his feet, someone +shouted, “Look out overhead!” and glancing up, Jack +saw a shower of burning fragments high in the air. +</p> +<p>Then rose the cry, “The wind is taking them right +over the town!” In alarm many people began leaving +the square for their homes. +</p> +<p>Jack’s own home and the drug-store block were well +on the other side of the town, however, and with no +thought of anxiety Jack remained to watch the burning +station, now a solid mass of flame from ground to roof. +</p> +<p>Presently, glancing toward the opposite corner of +the square, Jack noted a general, hurried movement +of the crowd there into the street. He set out to investigate. +As he neared the fire-engine, still clanking +vigorously, a bareheaded man rushed up and asked excitedly +for the fire chief. “The telephone building and +a house on Essex Street, and one on the next street +back, are burning!” he cried. “Quick, and do something, +or the whole town will be afire!” +</p> +<p>Looking in the direction indicated, Jack saw a +wavering glare, and with a new thrill of excitement +was immediately off on the run. The telephone exchange +was one of the largest buildings in town. +</p> +<p>As he came within sight of the new conflagration +the flames already were leaping from the roof and +roaring from the upper windows. Despite the heat, +the crowd before the building was clustered close about +the door of the telephone office, and Jack hastened to +join them, to learn the cause. Making his way through +the throng, he reached the front as a blanketed figure +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +staggered, smoking, from the doorway. Someone +sprang forward and caught the blanket from the +stumbling man, at the same time crying, “Did you +get them?” +</p> +<p>“No,” gasped the telephone operator, for Jack saw +it was he; “the whole office is in flames. I couldn’t +get inside the door.” +</p> +<p>Mayor Davis, the first speaker, turned quickly +about. “Then we’ll run down to Orr’s and telegraph.” +</p> +<p>At once Jack understood. The mayor wished to +send for help from other towns. He sprang forward. +“I’m here, Mr. Davis—Jack Orr. I’ll take a message!” +</p> +<p>“Good!” said the mayor. “Run like the wind, +my boy, and send a telegram to the mayors of Zeisler +and Hammerton for help. As many steam engines +as they can spare. And have the railroad people supply +a special at once. Write the message yourself, +and sign my name. Tell them four more fires have +broken out, and that the whole town may be in danger.” +</p> +<p>Jack broke through the crowd, and was off like a +deer. +</p> +<p>Farther down the street he passed another building, +a small dwelling, burning, with its frightened occupants +and their neighbors hurrying furniture out, and +fighting the flames with buckets. +</p> +<p>Down the next cross-street he saw flames bursting +from a second house. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p> +<p>Then it was that the real gravity of the situation +began to come home to Jack. Till now it had all been +only a thrilling drama—even the bearing of the +mayor’s urgent message had appeared rather a dramatically +prominent stage-part he had had thrust upon +him. +</p> +<p>On he sped with redoubled speed, and turned into +the main street. Then his alarm became genuine. +Lurid flames were licking over the tree-tops directly +ahead of him—in the direction of the store! A +moment later a cry of horror broke from him. It +was indeed the store block! +</p> +<p>But his own personal alarm was quickly lost in a +greater. Suppose the telegraph office also should be +in flames, and he unable to reach it? He ran on +madly. +</p> +<p>He neared the store, and with hope saw that so far +the flames were only in the second story. Men were +hurrying in and out, and from the hardware-store adjoining. +But as he rushed to the drug-store door a +cloud of heavy smoke rolled forth, driving a group +of men before it. +</p> +<p>Among them he recognized his father. +</p> +<p>“Dad,” he cried, “can’t I reach the instruments? +I’ve a message for help to Hammerton and Zeisler +from the mayor! The ’phone office and the station +are burned. There is no other way of getting word +out.” +</p> +<p>Mr. Orr had halted in consternation. “No; you +couldn’t get to them. The telegraph room is a furnace. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +The fire came in through the office windows +from the outhouse, and I closed the door from the +store.” +</p> +<p>Through the haze of smoke within burst a lurid +fork of flame. +</p> +<p>“There! The fire is out through the telegraph-room +door,” said the druggist. “You couldn’t get +near the table. And anyway, Jack, the instruments +would be useless by this time.” +</p> +<p>It was this remark that aroused Jack. “If I could +rip them from the table in any kind of shape, perhaps +I could fix them up quickly so I could use them,” he +thought. +</p> +<p>To his father he said with sudden determination, +“Dad, I’m going to make a try for the key and +relay.” +</p> +<p>“No. I won’t permit it,” declared Mr. Orr decisively. +</p> +<p>“But father, if we don’t get word out the whole +town may be burned,” cried Jack. +</p> +<p>“I’ll make a try myself,” said Mr. Orr, and without +further word lowered his head and dashed back +into the smoke. +</p> +<p>While Jack stood anxiously awaiting his father’s +reappearance the owner of the adjacent hardware-store +stumbled from his doorway under a bundle of +horse-blankets. With an immediate idea Jack ran +toward him. “Mr. Wells, let me have some of those +blankets,” he said hurriedly. “We want to try and +reach the telegraph instruments. They are the only +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +hope for getting word out of town for help. Father +is in after them, but I don’t think he can reach them +with nothing over him.” +</p> +<p>The merchant promptly threw the whole bundle to +the ground. “Help yourself,” he directed. +</p> +<p>At the door again, he called back. “Can you use +anything else?” +</p> +<p>“No—Say, yes! A pair of leather gauntlets.” +The merchant disappeared, reappeared, and threw +toward Jack a bundle of leather gloves. “Many as +you want,” he shouted. +</p> +<p>Catching them up and two of the blankets, Jack +sprang back for their own store as his father reappeared. +</p> +<p>“They can’t be reached,” coughed Mr. Orr. +“Couldn’t even get to the door.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll try with these blankets, then,” said Jack decisively. +“Throw them over my head, please.” +</p> +<p>His father hesitated. “But my boy—” +</p> +<p>“There’s little danger, Dad. The blankets are +thick. And I know just where the instruments are. +And see, I’ll wear these gauntlets,” he added, pulling +a pair over his hands. +</p> +<p>Somewhat reluctantly Mr. Orr took the blankets +and threw them over Jack’s head, and on the run +Jack plunged into the wall of smoke. +</p> +<p>With one gloved hand outstretched he found the +telegraph-room door, and the knob. He pressed +against it, and with a crash and then a roar the door +collapsed before him. But without a moment’s hesitation +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +he darted on within, groped his way to the +table, found the relay, and with a desperate wrench +tore it from its place. The next moment he dashed +blindly into his father’s arms at the outer door, and +threw the smoking blankets and sizzling, burning relay +to the sidewalk. +</p> +<p>“Water on it quick,” gasped Jack, pointing to the +instrument. Catching it up in a corner of one of the +blankets Mr. Orr ran with it to a horse-trough in +front, and plunged it into the water. +</p> +<p>As he returned Jack was drawing on a second pair +of gauntlets. +</p> +<p>“Jack, you’re not going back!” said his father +sharply. +</p> +<p>“I want the key, Dad.” +</p> +<p>“Look there.” Glancing within Jack saw that the +whole rear of the store was now enveloped in flames. +</p> +<p>“And it would be of no use in any case. Look at +this,” said Mr. Orr, holding up the smoking relay. +</p> +<p>The instrument did indeed look a hopeless wreck +as Jack took it. The base was cracked and charred, +the rubber jacket about the magnet-coils was frizzled +and warped, the fine wire connections beneath were +gone, and the armature spring was missing. +</p> +<p>But Jack was not one to give up while a single hope +remained. “I could improvise a key,” he said, and +with decision hastily sought the hardware merchant. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Wells, did you save any screw-drivers?” he +asked. +</p> +<p>“In a box down there. Help yourself.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></p> +<p>Running thither Jack found the tool, and immediately +began taking the relay apart. +</p> +<p>An exclamation of disappointment greeted the discovery +that the fine copper wire within one of the +coil-jackets had been melted into a solid mass. On +ripping open the sizzled jacket of the other, however, +Jack found the silk covering the wire to be only +scorched, and determined to do the best he could with +the one magnet. +</p> +<p>Removing the relay entirely from the burned base, +he secured a thin piece of board from one of the boxes +near him, from the miscellaneous tools in another box +found a gimlet, and made the necessary perforations. +And soon he had the brass coil-frame mounted. +</p> +<p>Meantime Mr. Orr, not for a moment thinking +Jack could do anything with the charred instrument, +had joined the crowd of men and women watching +the burning building from across the street. +</p> +<p>“Father! Here, please!” called Jack. +</p> +<p>In some wonder Mr. Orr responded, and with him +the hardware merchant. +</p> +<p>“Have you a rubber band in your pocket?” asked +Jack. “I want it for the armature spring.” +</p> +<p>“Why you are really not doing anything with it, +Jack!” exclaimed his father. +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. I think I can make it go,” responded +Jack with a little touch of elation. “And with only +one magnet. But have you the rubber?” +</p> +<p>“Here,” said Mr. Wells, snapping a rubber band +from his pocketbook. “This do?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p> +<p>“Just the thing. Thanks.” And while the two +men looked on, Jack secured one end of the elastic to +the little hook on the armature, and knotted the other +about the tension thumb-screw. +</p> +<p>That done, Jack caught up a hammer and smashed +the useless coil to pieces, from the wreck, secured several +intact ends of the fine wire, and with them +quickly restored the burnt connections between the +magnet and the binding-posts. And with a cry, half +of jubilation and half of nervous excitement, he +caught up the now roughly-restored instrument and +ran toward an iron gas street-lamp. In the roadway +a short distance from the lamp-post lay the burned-off +end of the telegraph wire. Placing the instrument +on the sidewalk, Jack ran for the wire, and dragged +it also to the post. +</p> +<p>Then, as the crowd, following his father and the +hardware merchant, gathered about him, they saw him +secure a piece of wire about the iron lamp-post, then +to the instrument; and, dropping to a sitting position, +place the instrument on his knees, catch up the telegraph +line, and hold it to the other side of the relay. +</p> +<p>Jack’s low cry of disappointment was echoed by his +father. “No use. I was afraid of it, my boy,” said +Mr. Orr resignedly. +</p> +<p>There was a disturbance on the outskirts of the +crowd, and the mayor appeared pushing his way +through. “Didn’t you get that message off, Jack?” +he cried excitedly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p> +<p>“The fire was too quick for us,” said Mr. Orr. +“Jack risked his life getting out one of the instruments. +But it has proved useless.” +</p> +<p>“Oh say! Now I know what’s the matter!” +With the cry Jack sprang to his feet, broke through +the circle about him, and sped back toward the store. +The flames were now bursting from the front, but +with head down he ran to the iron door covering the +street entrance to the cellar, and lifted it. A thin +stream of smoke arose, then disappeared as a draft +toward the rear set in. With a thankful “Good!” +Jack leaped into the opening. +</p> +<p>His father, the mayor, and several others who had +rushed after in consternation reached the sidewalk as +Jack’s head reappeared, followed by a green battery +jar. Placing the jar on the ledge, he stooped, and +raised another. +</p> +<p>“What do you think you are doing?” cried his +father. +</p> +<p>“I’ll explain in a minute. Take them over to the +post, please.” And Jack had again disappeared. +</p> +<p>The mayor promptly caught up the two cells, but +Mr. Orr as promptly dropped through the opening +and followed Jack. +</p> +<p>“What are you trying to do?” he demanded as he +groped his way to the battery-shelf. “You can’t do +anything with the battery if you have no instrument.” +</p> +<p>“The instrument is all right, Father. The line has +been ‘grounded’ south, that’s all. If we put battery +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +on here, we can reach some office between here and +wherever the ‘ground’ is on.” +</p> +<p>“May it be so,” said Mr. Orr fervently, but not +hopefully, as they hurried with four more jars to the +entrance. +</p> +<p>When they had carried out a dozen jars Jack declared +the number to be sufficient, and scrambling +forth, they hastened back to the lamp-post. +</p> +<p>Without delay Jack connected the cells in proper +series, and removing the wire between the instrument +and the iron post, substituted the battery—zinc to +the post, and copper to the instrument. +</p> +<p>Then once more he caught up the severed end of +the main-line wire, and touched the opposite side of +the instrument. +</p> +<p>A cry of triumph, then a mighty shout, greeted the +responding click. +</p> +<p>“But what about a key, son?” said Mr. Orr. +</p> +<p>“This, for the moment,” replied Jack, and simply +resting his elbow on his knee, and tapping with the +end of the wire against the brass binding-post, he +began urgently calling. +</p> +<p>“HN, HN, HN!” he clicked. “HN, HN, HV! +Rush! Qk! HN, HN!” +</p> +<p>“Perhaps the wire is grounded between here and +Hammerton,” suggested his father breathlessly. +</p> +<p>“Anybody answer! Qk!” sent Jack. “Does anybody +hear this?” +</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? This is Z.” +</p> +<p>“Got Zeisler!” shouted Jack. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>The mayor stepped forward. “Send them the +message,” he directed, “and have them ’phone it to +Hammerton.” +</p> +<p>Jack did so. And fifteen minutes later the cheering +news ran quickly about the threatened town that +two steam fire-engines were starting by special train +from Hammerton immediately, would pick up another +at Zeisler, and would be on the scene within half an +hour. All of which report proved true, the engines +arriving on the dot—and by daylight the last of the +several different fires were under control, and the +safety of the town was assured. +</p> +<p>Needless to say, Jack’s name played an important +part in the dramatic newspaper accounts of the conflagration—nor +to add that he was the envied hero +of every other lad in town for weeks to come. +</p> +<p>The final and particular result of the affair, however, +was the offer to Jack of a good position in +the large commercial telegraph office at Hammerton, +which he at last induced his parents to permit him to +accept. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_OTHER_TINKER_ALSO_MAKES_GOOD' id='IV_THE_OTHER_TINKER_ALSO_MAKES_GOOD'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h3>THE OTHER TINKER ALSO MAKES GOOD</h3> +</div> + +<p>One evening shortly after the beginning of the +summer holidays Alex was chatting over the +wire with Jack, who was now a full-fledged operator +at Hammerton, when the despatching office abruptly +broke in and called Bixton. +</p> +<p>“I, I, BX,” answered Alex. +</p> +<p>“Is young Ward there?” clicked the instruments. +</p> +<p>“This is ‘young Ward.’” +</p> +<p>“Say, youngster, would you care to do a couple +of weeks’ vacation relief at Hadley Corners, beginning +next Monday? The man there wants to get off +badly, and we have no one here we can send.” +</p> +<p>“Most certainly I would,” replied Alex, promptly. +</p> +<p>“OK then. We’ll count on you. I’ll send a pass +down to-night,” said the despatcher. +</p> +<p>Thus it came about that the following Monday +morning Alex alighted at the little crossing depot +known as Hadley Corners, and for the second time +found himself, if but temporarily, in full charge of a +station. +</p> +<p>Entering the little telegraph room, he announced +his arrival to the despatcher at “X.” +</p> +<p>“Good,” clicked the sounder. “And now, look +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +here, Ward. Don’t do any tinkering with the instruments +while you are there. We don’t want a repetition +of the mix-up you got the wire into at BX through +your joking a month or so ago.” +</p> +<p>The joke referred to was a hoax Alex had played +on his father the previous First of April. Through +an arrangement of wires beneath the office table, by +which with his foot, unseen, he could make the instruments +above click as though worked from another office, +he had called his father to the wire, and posing +as the despatcher, had severely reprimanded him for +some imaginary mistake in a train order. It had been +“all kinds of a lark,” until, unfortunately, the connections +became disarranged, tying up the entire +eastern end of the line for half an hour. +</p> +<p>At the recollection of the escapade Alex laughed +heartily. Nevertheless he promptly replied, “OK, +sir. I won’t touch a thing.” And the despatcher saying +nothing more, he began calling Bixton. +</p> +<p>“I’m here, Dad,” he announced when his father +answered; “and it’s a fine little place. The woods +come almost up to the back of the station, and the +nearest house is a mile away. That’s where I am to +board. The other operator arranged it. It’s going +to be a regular little picnic.” +</p> +<p>“That’s nice,” ticked the sounder. “I thought +you would like it.” And then Alex again laughed as +his father added, “And now, no tinkering with things, +my boy! Remember!” +</p> +<p>“OK, Dad. I won’t touch a thing. Good-by.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>It was the following Monday that the “all agents” +message was sent over the wire announcing an unusually +heavy shipment of gold from the Black Hill +Mines, and warning station agents and operators to +look out for and report any suspicious persons about +their stations. But these messages, usually following +hold-ups on other roads, had been intermittently sent +for years, and nothing had happened on the Middle +Western; and in his turn Alex gave his “OK,” and +thought nothing more about it. +</p> +<p>A half hour later he sat at the open window of the +telegraph room, deeply interested in the July <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>St. Nicholas</span>—so interested, indeed, that he did not +hear soft footfalls on the station platform without. +The man came quietly nearer—reached the window. +Then suddenly Alex glanced up, the magazine fell to +the floor, and with a loud cry he sprang to his feet. +</p> +<p>He was gazing into the barrel of a revolver, and +behind it was a black-masked face! +</p> +<p>Hold-up men! The gold train! +</p> +<p>Wildly Alex turned toward the telegraph-key. But +the man leaned quickly forward, seized him by the +shoulder, and threw him heavily back into the chair. +“You move again and I’ll shoot!” he said sharply, +and Alex sank back helpless. +</p> +<p>Yes; hold-up men. And he had betrayed his trust. +Betrayed his trust! That thought stood out even +above his terror. Oh, if he had only kept a lookout! +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +<a name='linki_6' id='linki_6'></a> +<img src='images/illus-057.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +HE WAS GAZING INTO THE BARREL OF A REVOLVER. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></div> +<p>The man, who had said nothing further, presently +withdrew the revolver and took a comfortable seat on +the window-ledge. As the silence continued, Alex +began somewhat to recover himself, and fell to wondering +what the other bandits were doing while this +man was watching him. +</p> +<p>A few moments later the answer came in a single +upward click from the instruments. +</p> +<p>“There—wires cut, ain’t they?” said his captor. +</p> +<p>“Yes, I suppose,” said Alex, bitterly. +</p> +<p>“They sure are,” said the voice from behind the +mask. “And when we get through, them wires’ll be +cut so you won’t be able to fix ’em up in a hurry.” +</p> +<p>Fifteen minutes later a second masked and heavily +armed figure appeared. “Every wire cut five poles +back on either side of the station,” he announced +briefly. “It’ll take a lineman half a day to fix ’em +up again, and we’ll be twenty miles away by that +time. Now we’ll put the hobbles on the youngster, +and git.” +</p> +<p>Often Alex had longed for just such an adventure +as this. The final disenchantment was anything but +glorious. Roughly seizing him, the two men forced +him stiffly upright in the chair, drew his arms about +the back of it, and there secured them, wrist to wrist, +drawing the knot until Alex almost cried out in pain. +Then, as tightly, they bound his ankles to the lower +rungs, one on either side. +</p> +<p>“Now one of us is going to watch from the woods +for a spell—we’ll leave the back door open, so we +can see right in—and if you make a move, you get +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +this quick! See?” said one of the desperadoes, tapping +his pistol significantly. +</p> +<p>Therewith they passed out, leaving the rear door +wide open, and in utter misery of mind Alex watched +them stride toward the trees. +</p> +<p>Before the two bandits had crossed the open space, +however, Alex’s mind had cleared. For plainly they +were hurrying! Then their promise to watch him +must have been only a threat, to keep him quiet! +Good! At once he began straining at his wrists, +paused as the two men reached the edge of the clearing +and momentarily turned, and as they disappeared +amid the trees, began struggling with grim determination. +</p> +<p>It seemed a hopeless task at first, and the rawhide +thongs cut cruelly into Alex’s wrists and ankles. But +bravely he struggled on, wriggled and twisted, paused +for breath, and struggled again. And finally one hand +came suddenly free. +</p> +<p>It required but a few seconds to get into his pocket, +reach his knife, and open it with his teeth. A moment +later Alex was on his feet, and staggered out onto +the platform. +</p> +<p>Yes, the wires were cut, five poles in either direction! +Alex clenched his hands. After all, what could +he do? To restore the line was entirely out of the +question. Had there been but one break he could not +have climbed the pole and carried aloft that heavy +stretch of wire. +</p> +<p>And there was less than twenty minutes in which +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +to work, to catch the Overland at Broken Gap. For +undoubtedly it was beyond that point that the bandits +planned holding her up—probably on one of the +steep grades of the Little Timber hills. +</p> +<p>Suddenly Alex uttered a gasp of hope. A moment +he debated, with nervously clasped hands, then, exhaustion +forgotten, dashed back into the little telegraph +room, found a screw-driver, and in a few minutes +had loosened from the table the telegraph-key +and the receiving instrument. Catching them up, with +some short ends of wire, he darted out and up the +track to the west. +</p> +<p>Two hundred yards distant the intact end of the +telegraph line drooped into the drainage ditch. Alex +caught it up and dragged it to the rails. Placing the +key and relay on the end of a tie, he connected them +on one side to the rail, and on the other side to the +end of the line wire. +</p> +<p>But the responding click did not come. Alex +groaned in disappointment. He had counted on the +rails giving a “ground” connection. Then the line +would have closed, and he could have worked it to +the west. But apparently the hot weather had entirely +dried out the sand beneath the rails, and thus insulated +them. +</p> +<p>But he was not yet beaten. There was a ground +wire at the station. Why could he not use the rails +that far, if they were insulated? With a hurrah he +seized the end of the line wire, and in a few moments +had connected it to one of the rail joints. Then, catching +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +up the instruments, he dashed back for the station. +</p> +<p>Placing the instruments again on the table, he found +a piece of loose wire that would reach from the instruments, +out through the window, to the rails; ran out +and quickly connected it to a rail joint, and, darting +back, connected the other end to the instruments. Instantly +there was a sharp downward click. The line +was closed! +</p> +<p>Alex could not suppress a quick “Thank Heaven!” +and, trembling with excitement, he seized the key and +began swiftly calling the despatcher. “X, X, X, +HC,” he called. “X, X—” +</p> +<p>He felt the line open, and closed his own key. Then, +in surprise, he read: “So you have been monkeying +with the wires there after all, have you? Now look +here—” +</p> +<p>Quickly Alex interrupted, and shot back: “Train +robbers are after the Overland. They held me up, +and cut the wires both sides of the station. I got +free, and have made a connection through the rails—HC.” +</p> +<p>For a moment the line remained silent, while at his +end of the wire the despatcher sat bolt upright in his +chair, eyes and mouth wide open. But in another +moment the despatcher had recovered himself, and, +springing back to the key, began madly calling Broken +Gap. +</p> +<p>“B, B, B, X!” he called. “B, B, X! Qk! Qk!” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +<a name='linki_7' id='linki_7'></a> +<img src='images/illus-063.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +BUT THE RESPONSE CLICK DID NOT COME. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></div> +<p>Alex shot a glance at the clock, and leaned forward +over the instruments, scarcely breathing. There was +yet three minutes before the Overland was due at +Broken Gap. But she did not stop there, and frequently +passed ahead of time. If “B” did not answer +the call immediately— +</p> +<p>The whir of “B’s” was interrupted, and slowly +and deliberately came an “I, I, B.” Alex leaped in +his chair, and again strained forward tensely. +</p> +<p>“Has 68 passed?” hurled the despatcher. +</p> +<p>“Just coming.” +</p> +<p>“Stop her! Flag her! Qk! Qk!” +</p> +<p>The line opened, as though “B” was about to make +a reply, then smartly closed again. +</p> +<p>“Stop her! Stop her!” repeated “X.” +</p> +<p>There was a leaden, breathless silence, while Alex +nervously clenched and unclenched his hands. At last +the line again clicked open, and with a characteristic +deliberation that caused the nerve-strung boy a moment’s +hysterical laugh, “B” announced: “Just got +her. She’s slowing in now. What’s up?” +</p> +<p>The despatcher at “X” had regained his equilibrium, +and in his usual crisp manner he replied: “Take +this for Conductor Bedford: +</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Bedford</span>: Hold-up apparently planned between +Broken Gap and Hadley Corners. Probably on one +of the grades of the Little Timbers. Gather a posse +quickly, and make sure of capturing them. Report at +HC. +</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style='text-align: right; '>“(Signed) <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Jordan</span>, X.”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></div> +<p>As “B” gave his “OK” with the stumbling hesitation +of blank astonishment, the line again opened. +And at the first word the intense strain broke, and +Alex sank forward over the table with a convulsive +sob. +</p> +<p>“Grand, my boy! Grand!” clicked the sounder. +It was his father, at Bixton. He had overheard it all. +</p> +<p>“Grand! That’s the word,” came the despatcher. +“There’s not another operator on the division who +would have known enough to do what he did to-day. +I guess we won’t bother him any more about his +‘tinkering,’ will we?” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Only half an hour late, the mighty mogul pulling +the Overland Limited drew panting to a stop before +the little station, and in a moment Alex was surrounded +by a crowd of congratulating trainmen and +passengers. And when he reappeared after sending +the message which notified the despatcher of the +train’s safe arrival and of the capture of the two bandits, +he was surprised and speechlessly confused by +having pressed upon him by the enthusiastic passengers +an impromptu purse of seventy-five dollars. +</p> +<p>Later in the afternoon Alex was called to the wire +by Jack, at Hammerton. “Say, what is all this you’ve +gone and done, Al?” clicked Jack enthusiastically. +“The afternoon papers here have a whole column +story! ‘Please attach statement at once!’” +</p> +<p>“Oh, it looks much bigger than it really was,” responded +Alex modestly. “And anyway, it came about +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +through my own carelessness. I ought to have been +reprimanded, instead of patted on the back.” +</p> +<p>“Nonsense! Those hold-up men would have got +you, anyway. If you had seen them coming, they +would simply have approached in a friendly way, then +got the drop on you. You had no gun. +</p> +<p>“But, say,” added Jack mock-seriously, “how is it +these real high class adventures always come your +way? I’m getting jealous.” +</p> +<p>“I can assure you you needn’t be. It’s lots more +fun reading about them. Wait and see,” said Alex. +</p> +<p>Jack was soon to have his opportunity of “seeing,” +though a more disagreeable experience was first to +come. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_AN_ELECTRICAL_DETECTIVE' id='V_AN_ELECTRICAL_DETECTIVE'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +<h2>V</h2> +<h3>AN ELECTRICAL DETECTIVE</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Orr, Mr. Black wants you.” +</p> +<p>Jack, who was passing through the business +department of the Hammerton office, toward the stair +which led to the operating room, promptly turned +aside and entered the manager’s private room. +</p> +<p>“Good morning, Jack. Sit down. +</p> +<p>“My boy,” began the manager, “can you keep a +secret?” +</p> +<p>“Why yes, sir,” responded Jack, wondering. +</p> +<p>“Very well. But I must explain first. I suppose +you did not know it—we kept it quiet—but the +real reason Hansen, the janitor, was discharged a +month ago was that he was found taking money from +the safe here, which he had in some way learned to +open. After he left I changed the safe combination, +and thought the trouble was at an end. +</p> +<p>“Last Tuesday morning the cash was again a little +short. At the time I simply thought an error had +been made in counting the night before. This morning +a second ten-dollar bill is missing, and the cash-box +shows unmistakable signs of having been tampered +with. +</p> +<p>“Now Johnson, the counter clerk, to whom I had +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +confided the new combination (for it is customary, +you know, that two shall be able to open a safe, as +a precaution against the combination being forgotten)—Johnson +is entirely above suspicion. Still, to make +doubly sure, I am going to alter the combination once +more, and share it with someone outside of the business +department. And as you have impressed me +very favorably, I have chosen you. +</p> +<p>“That is, of course,” concluded the manager, “if +you have no objection.” +</p> +<p>“Certainly not. I am sure I appreciate the confidence, +sir,” said Jack quickly. +</p> +<p>“Very well, then. The combination is ‘Right +twenty, twice; back nine; right ten.’ Can you remember +that? For you must not write it down, you +know.” +</p> +<p>Jack repeated the number several times; and again +thanking the manager for the compliment, continued +up-stairs to the telegraph-room. +</p> +<p>Two mornings later Jack was again called into Mr. +Black’s office. For a moment, while Jack wondered, +the manager eyed him strangely, then asked, “What +was that combination, Jack?” +</p> +<p>“Right ninety—no, right thirty—Why, I believe +I have forgotten it, sir,” declared Jack in confusion. +</p> +<p>“Perhaps you have forgotten this too, then?” As +he spoke the manager took from his desk a small notebook. +“I found it on the floor in front of the safe +this morning.” +</p> +<p>“It is mine, sir. I must have dropped it last night. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +I worked extra until after midnight, sir,” explained +Jack, “and on the way out I chased a mouse in here +from the stairway, and when it ran under the safe +I dropped to my knees to find it. The book must have +fallen from my pocket. +</p> +<p>“But what is wrong, sir?” +</p> +<p>“The cash-box is not in the safe this morning.” +</p> +<p>Jack started back, the color fading from his cheeks +as the significance of it all came to him. +</p> +<p>“And now you pretend to have the combination +entirely wrong,” went on the manager. +</p> +<p>Jack found his voice. “Mr. Black, you are mistaken! +You are mistaken! I never could do such +a thing! Never!” +</p> +<p>“I would prefer proof,” Mr. Black said coldly. +</p> +<p>Jack caught at the idea. “Would you let me try +to prove it, sir? Will you give me a week in which +to try and clear myself?” +</p> +<p>“Well, I did not mean it that way. But, all right—a +week. And if things do not look different by +that time, and you still claim ignorance, you will have +to go. That is all there is to it.” +</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir.” +</p> +<p>At the door Jack turned back. “Mr. Black, you +are positive you returned the box to the safe?” +</p> +<p>“Positive. It is the last thing I do before going +home.” +</p> +<p>During spare moments on his wire that morning +Jack debated the mystery from every side. Finally +he had boiled it down to two conflicting facts: +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p> +<p>“First: That the box was placed in the safe the +night before, and in the morning was gone; and that, +besides the manager, he was the only one who could +have opened the safe and taken it. And, +</p> +<p>“Second: That, of course, he knew his own innocence.” +</p> +<p>The only alternative, then, was that Mr. Black had +been mistaken in thinking he had returned the box +to the safe. +</p> +<p>Grasping at this possibility, Jack argued on. How +could the manager have been mistaken? Overlooked +the box, say because of its being covered by something? +</p> +<p>“Why it may be there yet!” exclaimed Jack hopefully. +And a few minutes later, relieved from his +wire for lunch, he hurriedly descended again to the +manager’s office. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Black, may I look around here a bit?” he +requested. +</p> +<p>“Look around? What for?” +</p> +<p>“To see if I cannot find something to help solve +this mystery,” responded Jack, not wishing directly +to suggest that the manager had overlooked the box. +</p> +<p>“So you keep to it that you know nothing, eh? +Well, go ahead,” said the manager shortly, turning +back to his desk. +</p> +<p>Jack’s hopes were quickly shattered. Neither on +the desk, nor a table beside the safe, was there +anything which could have concealed the missing +box. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p> +<p>Stooping, he glanced under the table. Something +white, a newspaper, leaning against the wall, caught +his eye. With a flutter of hope he reached beneath +and threw it aside. There was nothing behind it. +</p> +<p>Disappointedly he caught the newspaper up and +tossed it into the waste-basket. Suddenly, on a +thought, he recovered the paper, and opened it. On +discovering it was the “Bulletin,” a paper he knew +Mr. Black seldom read, the idea took definite shape. +And, yes, it was of yesterday’s date! +</p> +<p>“Mr. Black,” exclaimed Jack, “this is not your +paper, is it?” +</p> +<p>Somewhat impatiently the manager glanced up. +“The ‘Bulletin’? No.” +</p> +<p>“Were you reading it yesterday, sir?” +</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t see what you are driving at—but, +no. It was probably left here by Smith, one of the +express clerks next door. He was in for a while yesterday +on some telegraph money-order business. Yes, +he did have it in his hand, now I remember. But +why?” +</p> +<p>At the mention of Smith’s name Jack started, and +there immediately came to him a remembrance of having +a few days previously seen the express clerk on a +street corner in earnest conversation with Hansen, the +discharged janitor. +</p> +<p>In suppressed excitement he asked, “When was +Smith here, Mr. Black? What time?” +</p> +<p>The manager smiled sardonically, and turned back +to his work. “No; you can’t fasten it on Smith,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +he said shortly. “It was after he went out that I +returned the box to the safe. But, if it’s any good +to you—he was in here from about five-thirty to ten +minutes to six, and was talking with one of the boys +in the outer office when I left.” +</p> +<p>“And Mr. Black, were you outside during the time +Smith was in here?” +</p> +<p>“No, I—Yes, I was, too. About a quarter to six +I was over at the speaking-tube for a minute. +</p> +<p>“But enough of this nonsense,” the manager added +sharply. “The box was in the safe when I closed it. +Don’t bother me any further with your pretense of +investigating. I don’t believe it is sincere.” +</p> +<p>Despite this cutting declaration Jack turned away +with secret satisfaction. +</p> +<p>Just outside the office door he made a second discovery—a +small one, but one which further strengthened +the theory he had formed. +</p> +<p>It was a small coal cinder and an ash stain in the +shape of a heel, apparently overlooked by a careless +sweeper. +</p> +<p>They could only have been left by a foot which came +from the cellar! +</p> +<p>Promptly Jack turned toward the cellar door, and +made his way down into the big basement. +</p> +<p>Going directly to one of the rear windows, he +carefully examined it. The cobwebs and the dust on +the sill had not been disturbed for months. +</p> +<p>He turned to the second, and instantly emitted a +shrill whistle of delight. Its cobwebs had been torn +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +and swept aside, and the ledge brushed almost clean. +And evidently but a short time before, for the cleared +space showed little of the dust which constantly filtered +through the floor above. +</p> +<p>“Fine!” exclaimed Jack. “Now I—” He +paused. The window was securely latched on the +inside! +</p> +<p>For several minutes Jack stood, disappointed and +mystified. Then, examining the latch closely, he +laughed, and grasping it with his fingers, easily pulled +it out. It had been forced from the outside, and +merely pressed back into the hole. +</p> +<p>But its being replaced showed that the intruder +had not made his escape that way. +</p> +<p>Jack began an examination of the end of the cellar +under the express office. And the exit was soon disclosed. +</p> +<p>The dividing wall was of boarding, and at the outer +end, to facilitate the examination of the gas metres +of the two companies, was a narrow door. Ordinarily +this door was secured on the telegraph company’s side +by a strong bolt. +</p> +<p>The bolt was drawn, and the door swung easily to +Jack’s touch! +</p> +<p>On the farther side all was darkness, however, and +Jack returned to the window. As he approached it +something on the floor beneath caught his eye. It +was a lead-pencil. He picked it up, and with a cry +of triumph discovered stamped upon it the initials and +miniature crest of the express company. And, more, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +a peculiar long-pointed sharpening promised the possibility +of fixing its actual owner. +</p> +<p>Filled with elation, and confident that it was now +only a matter of time when he should clear himself, +Jack hastened up-stairs, determined to pursue his investigation +next door, where he knew several of the +younger clerks. +</p> +<p>“Hello, Danny,” he said, entering the express office, +and addressing a sandy-haired boy of his own +age. “Say, who in here sharpens pencils like this?” +</p> +<p>“Hello! That? Oh, I’d know that whittle a mile +off. We call ’em daggers—Smith’s daggers. Where +did you get it?” +</p> +<p>“Smith! Who wants Smith?” +</p> +<p>Jack turned with a start. It was the clerk himself. +</p> +<p>Instantly Jack extended the pencil. “Is this yours, +Mr. Smith?” he asked, and held his breath. +</p> +<p>“Yes, it is. Where did you find—” Suddenly +the clerk turned upon Jack with a look of terror in +his face. But in a moment he had recovered himself, +and abruptly snatching the pencil from Jack’s hand, +proceeded to his desk. +</p> +<p>Jack was jubilant. Nothing could have been more +convincing of the clerk’s guilt. Following this feeling, +however, came one of pity for the unfortunate man; +and after a silent debate with himself, Jack followed +him. +</p> +<p>Placing a hand on the clerk’s shoulder, he said in +a low voice: +</p> +<p>“Mr. Smith, I have found out about that cash-box +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +of ours. Now look here, why not confess the wretched +business before it is too late, and—” +</p> +<p>The clerk spun about. “Cash-box! Business! +What do you refer to?” +</p> +<p>“Mr. Smith, it was you took our cash-box last +night.” +</p> +<p>The clerk was colorless, but he only faltered an instant. +“What nonsense is this?” he demanded angrily. +“I never heard of your cash-box. What do +you mean by—” +</p> +<p>“Well then, I’ll tell you just how you did it,” said +Jack determinedly. “While you were in Mr. Black’s +office yesterday afternoon he stepped out and left you +alone for a moment. The cash-box was on the table. +You immediately saw the opportunity (perhaps Hansen +had done the same thing, and put you onto it?)—you +saw the opportunity, and threw over the box a +newspaper you had in your hand. As you had hoped, +not seeing the box, Mr. Black forgot it, and left at +six o’clock without returning it to the safe. You made +sure of that by remaining about the outer office until +he left. And then, after midnight you came down to +the office here, forced an entrance into our cellar, and +went up-stairs and secured the box. +</p> +<p>“I’m sorry—but isn’t that so?” +</p> +<p>The clerk laughed drily. “The great Mr. Sherlock +Holmes, junior!” he remarked sarcastically. “Rubbish. +Run away and don’t bother me with your silly +detective theories,” and turned back to his desk. +</p> +<p>Jack stood, baffled and surprised. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +<a name='linki_8' id='linki_8'></a> +<img src='images/illus-078.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE CLERK WAS COLORLESS, BUT ONLY FALTERED AN INSTANT. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></div> +<p>“Look here, Orr!” As Smith again spun about +a hard look came into his face. “Look here, how do +you come to know so much about this business, yourself? +Eh?” +</p> +<p>Jack uttered an exclamation, and a sudden fear of +the clerk came over him. Was Smith thinking of +trying to place the blame upon him? +</p> +<p>However, further discussion was clearly useless, +and he turned away. +</p> +<p>The following morning brought quick proof that +Jack’s suddenly inspired fear of Smith was too well +founded. As he entered the telegraph office Mr. +Black called him and handed him a note. “Now what +have you to say?” he demanded solemnly. +</p> +<p>In a lead-pencil scrawl Jack read: +</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Mr. Black: Your yung operatur Orr can tell you +sumthin about thet cash box, he was showin the key +of the box to sumone yesteday and i saw him. Mebee +you will finde the key in his offis cote. +</p> +<p>“Yours, a frend.” +</p> +</div> +<p>“It is the key,” said the manager, producing a +small key on a ring. “I recall having left it in the +lock.” +</p> +<p>Jack stood pale and speechless. Despite the disguised +writing and poor spelling, the letter was from +Smith, he had not a doubt. But how could he prove +it? Truly matters were beginning to look serious for +him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<p>Quickly, however, Jack’s natural spirit of fight-to-the-end +returned to him, and handing the letter back, +he said, respectfully but determinedly, “Mr. Black, I +still hold you to your promise to give me a week in +which to prove my innocence. And I’ll prove, too, +sir, that this key was placed in my pocket by someone +else, probably by the one who really took the box. I +believe I know who it is, but I’ll prove it first.” +</p> +<p>Reluctantly the manager consented, for he now +firmly believed at least in Jack’s complicity; and leaving +him, Jack sought the operating-room, to spend +every spare moment in turning the matter over in his +mind. +</p> +<p>What next could he do? If only he could find the +box! What would Smith probably have done with +it? For it seemed unlikely he would have taken it +away with him. Might he not, after removing the +money, have hidden it in the cellar? Jack determined +to search there; and accordingly, at noon, hastening +through his lunch, he descended and began a systematic +hunt amid the odds and ends filling the basement. +</p> +<p>The first noon-hour’s search brought no result. +The second day, returning to the task somewhat +dispiritedly, Jack began overhauling a pile of old +cross-pieces. There was a squeak, and a rat shot out. +</p> +<p>In a moment Jack was in hot pursuit with a stick. +The rat ran toward the old furnace, and disappeared. +At the spot an instant after, Jack found a hole in the +brick foundation, and thrust the stick into it. The +stick caught, he pulled, and several bricks fell out. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>Dropping to his knees, Jack peered into the opening. +A cry broke from him, and thrusting in a hand he +grasped something, and drew it forth. +</p> +<p>It was the lost cash-box! +</p> +<p>Uttering a shout of triumph, Jack leaped to his feet +and started on a run for the stair. But suddenly he +halted. After all, was he absolutely sure it was Smith +who had placed it there? Would the producing of +the box prove it? +</p> +<p>The question, which had not before occurred to +Jack, startled him. +</p> +<p>As he stood thinking, half consciously he tried the +cover of the box. To his surprise it gave. He opened +it. And the box almost fell from his hands. +</p> +<p>It still contained the money! And apparently untouched! +</p> +<p>But in a moment Jack thought he understood. +Smith, or whoever it was, had left it as a clever means +of saving themselves from the worst in the event of +being found out, intending to return for it if the excitement +blew safely over. +</p> +<p>Then why not wait and catch them at it? +</p> +<p>Good. But how? +</p> +<p>Jack’s inventive genius soon furnished the answer. +“That’s it! Great!” he said to himself delightedly. +“I’ll get down and do it early in the morning. And +now I’ll stick this back in the hole and fix the bricks +up again.” +</p> +<p>Seven o’clock the following morning found Jack +carrying out his plan. First conveying to the cellar +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +from the battery room two gravity-jars, he placed +them in a dark corner behind the furnace. Next, finding +an old lightning-arrester, he opened up the hiding-place, +and arranged the arrester beneath the cash-box +in such a way that on the box being moved the arrester +arm would be released, fly back, and make a contact. +Then, having carefully closed the opening, he procured +some fine insulated wire, and proceeded to make up +his circuit: From the arrester, out beneath the bricks, +around the furnace, to the battery; up the wall, and +through the floor by the steam-pipes into the business +office; and, running up-stairs and procuring a step-ladder, +on up the office wall, through the next floor, +into the operating room. And there a few minutes +later he had connected the wires to a call-bell on a +ledge immediately behind the table at which he worked. +And the alarm was complete. +</p> +<p>Although Jack knew that the clerk next door returned +from his dinner a half hour earlier than the +others in the express office, he had little expectation +of Smith visiting the cash-box at that time. Nevertheless, +as the noon-hour drew near he found himself +watching the alarm-bell with growing excitement. +</p> +<p>“There might be just a chance of Smith visiting +the box,” he told himself, “just to learn whether I +had—” +</p> +<p>From behind him came a sharp “zip, zip,” then a +whirr. With a bound Jack was on his feet and rushing +for the door. Down the stairs he went, three +steps at a time, and into the manager’s private office. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +<a name='linki_9' id='linki_9'></a> +<img src='images/illus-083.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +“THERE!” SAID JACK, POINTING IN TRIUMPH. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></div> +<p>“Mr. Black,” he cried, “I’ve got the man who +took the box! Down the cellar! Quick! +</p> +<p>“I found the box, with the money still in it, and +fixed up an alarm-bell circuit to go off when he came +for it,” he explained hurriedly, as the manager stared. +In a moment Mr. Black was on his feet and hastening +after Jack toward the cellar stairway. +</p> +<p>Quietly they tiptoed down. They reached the bottom. +</p> +<p>“There!” Jack said, pointing in triumph. And +looking, the manager beheld Smith, the express clerk, +on his knees beside the furnace, before him on the +floor the missing cash-box. +</p> +<p>Ten minutes later the manager of the express company, +who had been called in, passed out of Mr. +Black’s office with his clerk in charge, and the telegraph +manager, turning to Jack, warmly shook his +hand. +</p> +<p>“I am more sorry than I can say to have placed the +blame upon you, my boy,” he said sincerely. “And I +am very thankful for the clever way you cleared the +mystery up. +</p> +<p>“You are quite a detective—sort of ‘electrical +detective’—aren’t you?” he added, smiling. +</p> +<p>And for some time, about the office, and even over +the wires, Jack went by that name—the “Electrical +Detective.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_JACK_HAS_HIS_ADVENTURE' id='VI_JACK_HAS_HIS_ADVENTURE'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +<h2>VI</h2> +<h3>JACK HAS HIS ADVENTURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>One afternoon a few days following the affair +of the missing cash-box Manager Black appeared +in the Hammerton operating room, and after +a consultation with the chief operator, called Jack +Orr from his wire. +</p> +<p>“Jack,” said the manager, “there have been some +important developments in the big will case on trial +out at Oakton, and the ‘Daily Star’ has asked for +a fast operator to send in their story to-night. The +chief tells me you have developed into a rapid sender. +Would you care to go?” +</p> +<p>“I’d be glad of the opportunity, sir,” said Jack, +delightedly. +</p> +<p>“All right. The chief will let you off now, so you +will have plenty of time to catch the seven o’clock train. +And now, Jack, do your best, for the ‘Morning Bulletin’ +is sending its news matter in by the other telegraph +company, and we don’t want them to get ahead +of us in any way.” +</p> +<p>When Jack reached the station, several of the newspaper +men, including West of the “Star,” already +were there. Among them he saw Raub, a reporter +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +of the “Bulletin,” and with him Simpson, an operator +of the opposition telegraph company. +</p> +<p>“Why, hello, kid!” said the latter on seeing Jack. +“They are not sending you out to Oakton, are +they?” +</p> +<p>“They are,” responded Jack, with pride. Simpson +laughed, and, somewhat indignant, Jack passed on +down the platform. On turning back, he noticed +Simpson and Raub apart, talking earnestly. As he +again neared them, both glanced toward him, and abruptly +the conversation ceased. At once Jack’s suspicions +were aroused, for he knew Raub had the name +of being very unscrupulous in news-getting matters, +and that Simpson was not much better. He determined +to watch them. +</p> +<p>But nothing further attracted his attention, and +finally, the train arriving, they boarded it, and made +a quick run of the ten miles to the little village. There +Jack headed for the local telegraph office. +</p> +<p>He found it a tiny affair, in a small coal office on +the southern outskirts of the village. Introducing +himself to the elderly lady operator, who was just +leaving, he went to the key and announced his arrival +to the chief at Hammerton. +</p> +<p>It was an hour later when West, the “Star” reporter, +appeared. “Here you are, youngster,” said +he; “a thousand words for a starter. It’s going to +be a great story. I’ll be back in half an hour with +another batch.” +</p> +<p>Promptly Jack called “H,” and soon was clicking +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +away in full swing. But suddenly the instruments +ceased to respond. The wire had “opened.” Jack +tested with his earth connection, and finding the opening +was to the south, waited, thinking the receiving +operator at Hammerton had opened his key. But +minute after minute passed, and finally becoming anxious, +he cut off the southern end and began calling +“B,” the terminal office to the north. +</p> +<p>“I, I,” said B. +</p> +<p>“Get H on another wire and ask him what is wrong +here,” Jack sent quickly. “We are being held up on +some very important stuff.” +</p> +<p>“H says it is open north of him,” announced B, +returning. “We are putting in a set of repeaters here, +so you can reach him this way.” +</p> +<p>A moment later Jack heard Hammerton calling +him from the north, and in another moment he was +again sending rapidly. +</p> +<p>But scarcely had Jack sent a hundred words when +this wire also suddenly failed. When several minutes +again passed and no further sound came, Jack leaned +back in despair. Suddenly he sat upright. Raub and +Simpson! Was it possible this was their work? Was +it possible they had cut the wires? +</p> +<p>Quickly he made a test which would show whether +the breaks were near him. Adjusting the relay-magnets +near the armature, he clicked the key. There +was not the faintest response. Switching the instruments +to the southern end of the wire, he repeated the +test, with the same result. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p> +<p>On both ends the break was within a short distance +of him. Undoubtedly the wires had been cut! +</p> +<p>Jack sprang to his feet and seized his hat. “I’ll +find that southern break if I have to walk half-way to +Hammerton,” he said determinedly, and leaving the +office, set off down the moonlit road, his eyes fixed +on the wire overhead. +</p> +<p>Scarcely a mile distant Jack uttered an exclamation, +and, running forward, caught up the severed end of +the telegraph line. +</p> +<p>A moment’s examination of the wire showed it had +been cut through with a sharp file. +</p> +<p>Yes; undoubtedly it was the work of Raub and +Simpson, in an effort to keep the news from the +“Star,” and score a “beat” for the opposition telegraph +company and the “Morning Bulletin.” +</p> +<p>“But you haven’t done it yet,” said Jack grimly, +turning to look about him. How could he overcome +the break in the wire? As the cut had been made +close to the glass insulator on the cross-arm, only one +of the two ends hung to the ground, and he saw that +he could not splice them. And in any case he could +not climb the pole and take that heavy stretch of wire +with him. +</p> +<p>His eyes fell on a barb-wire fence bordering the +road, and like an inspiration Alex Ward’s feat with +the rails at Hadley Corners occurred to him. Could +he not do the same thing with one of the fence wires? +Connect this end of the telegraph line (and fortunately +it was the Hammerton end), say to the upper strand, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +then run back to the office and string a wire from the +fence in to the instruments? +</p> +<p>To think was to act. Dragging the telegraph wire +to the fence, Jack looped it over the topmost strand +near one of the posts, and wound it about several +times, to ensure a good contact. Then on the run he +started back for the telegraph office. +</p> +<p>As he neared the little building Jack saw a figure +within. Thinking the “Star” reporter had returned +with further copy, he quickened his steps. At the +doorway he halted in consternation. Instead of the +reporter were two desperate-looking characters, and +on the table beside them a half-emptied bottle and a +large revolver. +</p> +<p>Jack hesitated a moment, then stepped inside. +“What are you men doing here?” he demanded. +</p> +<p>“Oh, hello, kiddo! We are the new operators,” +said one of them with tipsy humor. “You’re discharged, +see? And you git, too!” he suddenly +shouted, catching up the pistol. And promptly Jack +“got.” A few yards distant, however, he halted. +Now what was he to do? +</p> +<p>“Oh here you are, eh? Where have you been?” +It was West, the “Star” man, and he spoke angrily. +“I was here ten minutes ago, and found the office +empty, and if the other company could have handled +my stuff yours would have lost it. I’ve just +been—” +</p> +<p>Interrupting, Jack hastily explained, telling of the +severed wire, and his plan to bridge the break. The +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +reporter uttered an indignant exclamation. “It’s +Raub’s work, sure as you’re born,” he said hotly. +</p> +<p>“But say, youngster, we can’t permit ourselves to +be beaten this way. Can’t we do something?” +</p> +<p>“We might get some help, and drive the roughs +out,” suggested Jack. +</p> +<p>“No; we haven’t time. And then they might put +up a drunken fight and shoot somebody. Come, think +of something else. You surely can get over this new +difficulty, after your clever idea for getting around +the cut in the wire.” +</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Jack doubtfully, glancing +toward the office window. “If there was any way of +getting the instruments—” +</p> +<p>“What could you do with them?” +</p> +<p>“We could turn the barn there into an office. I’d +run connections out through the back to the fence. +It’s just behind.” +</p> +<p>“Say—I’ve an idea then! If it wouldn’t take you +long to remove the instruments from the table?” +</p> +<p>“Only a couple of minutes.” +</p> +<p>“Come on,” said West. Leading the way back +toward the office, he explained, “I’ll get these beggars +out, you hide round the corner, and soon as the +way is clear rush in and get your instruments, and +duck for the barn. I’ll join you later.” +</p> +<p>“How are you going to get them out?” whispered +Jack. +</p> +<p>“Watch,” said the reporter. +</p> +<p>As Jack drew out of sight about the rear of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +building his mystification was added to when he saw +West pause before the door, stoop and pick up a handful +of gravel. But immediately the reporter entered +the doorway and spoke his purpose was explained. +</p> +<p>“Hello, you two big rummies,” he said in his most +offensive tones. “What are you doing here?” +</p> +<p>The two men were in a momentarily genial mood, +however, and missed the insult. “Why, hello pard, +ol’ man,” responded one of them cordially. “Come +in an’ make ’self t’ home. Wanta buy a telegraph +office? Cheap?” +</p> +<p>“Cheap! You are the cheapest article I see here,” +replied West, yet more insultingly. “What do you +mean by sitting down in respectable chairs? You +ought to be tied up in a cow-stable. That’s where +you belong.” +</p> +<p>There was an angry growl as the two men scrambled +to their feet, and peering about the corner Jack +saw West back into the door. +</p> +<p>“Come on out, you big, overgrown cowards,” +shouted the reporter. “I’ll thrash the both of you, +with one hand tied behind me! +</p> +<p>“And take that!” +</p> +<p>With his last words West suddenly threw the gravel +full in the faces of the now enraged men, and spinning +about, raced off down the road. They stumbled +forth, shouting with rage, and one of them fired. +The bullet went yards wide, and West ran on. Without +further wait Jack darted into the office, in a few +minutes had the relay and key from the table, secured +some spare ends of wire for connections, and sped for +the barn. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +<a name='linki_10' id='linki_10'></a> +<img src='images/illus-094.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +LOOPED IT OVER THE TOPMOST STRAND, NEAR ONE OF THE POSTS. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></div> +<p>There all was darkness. Entering, a search with +matches soon produced a lantern, however. Lighting +it, Jack stepped without to discover whether its glimmer +could be seen from the direction of the office. As +he closed the door West appeared, panting and laughing. +</p> +<p>“Well, what do you think of that stunt, youngster?” +he chuckled. “Did you get the instruments?” +</p> +<p>“Yes. I was out here to learn whether the light of +a lantern I found could be seen.” +</p> +<p>“Good head! No; it doesn’t show. +</p> +<p>“And come on! Here the beggars are again!” +West led the way inside, and closed the door behind +them. +</p> +<p>“Now what, my boy?” +</p> +<p>“A table first. Here, the very thing,” said Jack, +making towards a long feed-box at the rear of the +barn. +</p> +<p>As they cleared its top of a pile of harness West +asked, “Just what is the scheme here, youngster? I +don’t think I understand it.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, simple enough. I’ll just run the wires out +through that knot-hole, and connect one to the fence +and the other to the ground.” +</p> +<p>“Simple! It looks different to me,” declared the +reporter admiringly. “All right, go ahead. I’ll get +down on this box and grind out the rest of my story.” +</p> +<p>Already Jack was at work sorting over the odd +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +pieces of wire he had brought. Finding two suitable +lengths, and straightening them out, he quickly connected +them to the instruments, placed the instruments +in a convenient position on the top of the box, and +thrust the wire ends through the knot-hole. Then, +hastening outside to the rear of the barn, he proceeded +to connect one of them to the same strand of the fence +wire to which the telegraph line was secured a mile +distant. The other he drove deep into the damp earth +beneath the edge of the building. And, theoretically, +the circuit was complete. +</p> +<p>Hurriedly he re-entered the barn to learn the result. +</p> +<p>“Well?” said West anxiously. +</p> +<p>“There is current, but it’s too weak.” Jack’s voice +quavered with his disappointment. “I suppose the +rusty splices of that old fence offer too much resistance. +</p> +<p>“But I’m not beaten yet,” he exclaimed, suddenly +recovering his determination. Turning from the box, +he began pacing up and down the floor. “I’ll figure +it out somehow if I—oh!” With the cry Jack darted +for the door, out, and toward the office. +</p> +<p>The intoxicated roughs were again in possession. +Quietly he made his way to a dark window adjoining +the lighted window of the operating room—the +window of a little store-room, where, the local operator +had told him, the batteries were located. +</p> +<p>The window was unlocked, and with little difficulty +he succeeded in raising it. Cautiously he climbed +within, and feeling about, found the row of glass jars. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +Quickly disconnecting two of them, he carried them +to the window-sill, clambered out, and hastened with +them to the barn. +</p> +<p>“Now I’ve got it, Mr. West!” he cried. “I’ll +have H again in fifteen minutes!” +</p> +<p>West started to his feet. “Can’t I help you?” +</p> +<p>“All right. Come on,” said Jack. And ten minutes +later, working like beavers, they had transferred +to the barn the entire office battery of twenty cells. +</p> +<p>In nervous haste Jack connected the cells in series, +then to the wire. Instantly the instrument closed with +a solid click. +</p> +<p>“Hurrah! We win! We win!” cried West, and +Jack, springing to the key, whirled off a succession of +H’s. “H, H, H, ON! Rush! H, H—” +</p> +<p>“I, I, H! Where have you been? What’s the +matter?” It was the chief, and the words came +sharply and angrily. +</p> +<p>“The wire was cut both sides of the village,” shot +back Jack. “I think it was Raub and Simpson’s work. +And two roughs chased me out of the office with a +revolver. Hired by them, I suppose. I’ve fixed up +an office in the barn, and am sending for a mile +through a wire fence, to bridge the cut. <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Orr</span>.” +</p> +<p>For a moment the chief was too amazed to reply. +Then rapidly he said: “Orr, you are a trump! But +come ahead with that report now. And make the +best time you ever made in your life. I’ll copy you +myself.” +</p> +<p>And there, in a corner of the big barn, by the dim +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +light of the lantern, and to the strange accompaniment +of munching cattle and restlessly stamping horses, +West wrote as though his life depended upon it, and +Jack sent as he had never sent before. And exactly +an hour later the young operator sent “30” (the +end) to one of the speediest feats of press work on +that year’s records of the Hammerton office. +</p> +<p>Though it was 3 <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A. M.</span> when Jack got back to Hammerton, +he found the chief operator at the station to +meet him. “I had to come down, to congratulate +you,” said the chief. “That was one of the brightest +bits of work all-round that I’ve heard of for years.” +</p> +<p>“But did we beat them?” asked Jack. +</p> +<p>“We assuredly did. For didn’t you know? +Those two roughs later went up and cleaned out the +other office—the very men who had hired them to +disable us! And what with having had a slow-working +wire previously, the ‘Bulletin’ didn’t get in more +than five hundred words. We gave the ‘Star’ over +three solid columns.” +</p> +<p>The manager’s congratulation the following morning +was as enthusiastic as that of the chief. “And +as a practical appreciation, Jack,” he added, “we are +going to give you a full month’s vacation, with salary. +We think you earned it.” +</p> +<p>When Jack returned to his wire one of the first +remarks he heard was from Alex Ward, at Bixton. +</p> +<p>“Well, old boy,” clicked Alex, “your adventure +came, didn’t it. And it has me beaten to a standstill.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +<a name='linki_11' id='linki_11'></a> +<img src='images/illus-099.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THERE, IN THE CORNER OF THE BIG BARN, JACK SENT AS HE<br /> +HAD NEVER SENT BEFORE. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span></div> +<p>“Nonsense. It was your stunt at Hadley Corners +that suggested the trick that got me out of it,” declared +Jack. “But say, the manager has given me +a month’s vacation. What do you think of that?” +</p> +<p>“He did! Look here,” sent Alex quickly, “come +to Bixton and spend some of it with me. I’ll promise +you all kinds of a good time. Though I am not sure +I can guarantee anything as exciting as last night’s +work,” he added. +</p> +<p>Jack readily accepted the invitation. And, as it +turned out, Alex might as well have made his promise. +He could have kept it. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_A_RACE_THROUGH_THE_FLAMES' id='VII_A_RACE_THROUGH_THE_FLAMES'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +<h2>VII</h2> +<h3>A RACE THROUGH THE FLAMES</h3> +</div> + +<p>The fall had been an exceptionally dry one in that +section of the middle west, and in consequence +several forest fires had occurred, several not far from +Bixton. Thus, when a few mornings following Jack’s +arrival he and Alex proposed a visit to the old house +in the woods where Alex had had his thrilling experience +with the foreign trackmen, Mrs. Ward objected. +</p> +<p>“You know there was a fire but five miles west +yesterday, Alex,” she said. +</p> +<p>“But that was only in the grass along the track, +Mother, and the section-men soon had it out. They +are watching everywhere. And on the first sign of +smoke we will light for home like good fellows—won’t +we, Jack?” he promised. Somewhat reluctantly +Mrs. Ward finally consented, and gave the boys +a lunch, and they set off to make a day of it. +</p> +<p>Paying a visit first to the abandoned brick-yard, it +was noon when Jack and Alex emerged from the +woods at the rear of the deserted old cabin. +</p> +<p>“So that’s it!” exclaimed Jack with keen interest +as they went forward. “And up there is the very +door you dropped from, I suppose?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>“Yes, that is it. Still half open, too—just as I +left it. And over there is the barn and cow-stable. +But let us have lunch first, and I’ll explain everything +afterward,” Alex said, leading the way toward the +house. “I am as hollow as a bass-drum.” +</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, sitting on the cabin floor just +within the doorway, eating and chatting, the two boys +became suddenly silent, and sniffed at the air. With +an exclamation both leaped to their feet, and to the +door. +</p> +<p>Rolling from the trees at the southern border of +the clearing was a white bank of smoke. The woods +were on fire! +</p> +<p>“Which way?” cried Jack, as they sprang forth. +“The railroad?” +</p> +<p>Alex darted to the corner of the house and glanced +about. “No! The wind has swung to the southwest! +We’d never make it! North, for the brick-yard! +Come on! +</p> +<p>“If we are cornered there, we can swim the river,” +he explained as they ran. “The fire isn’t likely to +cross the water.” +</p> +<p>They reached the trees, and immediately found +themselves in a madly frightened procession. At their +feet scurried rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks. A fox +flashed by within a yard of them. Overhead, birds +screamed and called in terror. +</p> +<p>On they dashed, and a ghostly yellow light began +to envelop them. “The smoke overhead,” said Alex. +“It will soon be down here, too.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>“I smell it,” panted Jack a moment later. Soon +they began to feel it in their eyes. +</p> +<p>Jack began to lag. “How much farther, Alex?” +he gasped. +</p> +<p>“Only a short distance, now. Yes, here we are,” +announced Alex, as brighter light appeared ahead of +them. A moment after they broke into the clearing. +</p> +<p>Without slackening pace Alex headed for the old +semaphore. “From up there we can see just how we +stand,” he explained. Almost exhausted, they +reached it, and Alex ran up the ladder. Scrambling +onto the little platform, he turned toward the river, +two hundred yards distant. A cry broke from him. +</p> +<p>“We are cut off! The fire has crossed the +river!” +</p> +<p>Jack hastily clambered up beside him, and above +the tree-tops beyond the river he beheld a gray-white +cloud. +</p> +<p>The boys gazed at one another with paling faces. +“What shall we do?” asked Jack. +</p> +<p>Alex shook his head. “We might swim the river, +and try a dash for it. It is two miles out of the woods, +but there might be a chance.” +</p> +<p>“We couldn’t do it. We’re too nearly exhausted. +</p> +<p>“How about staying right in the river, by the +bank?” Jack suggested. “I’ve heard of people doing +that.” +</p> +<p>“It is too deep here, and it’s awfully cold. We +would chill and cramp in no time. +</p> +<p>“No; I tell you,” went on Alex suddenly. “We’ll +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +try one of the old tile ovens on the other side of the +yard. Perhaps we can box ourselves up in one of +them.” +</p> +<p>There was no time to lose, for the clearing was now +blue with smoke, and climbing hastily to the ground, +the boys were again off on the run. They reached the +group of round-topped ovens. +</p> +<p>A glance showed that their hope was futile. All +about the furnaces were thickets of dead weeds, and +a short distance away, and directly to windward, was +a huge pile of light brushwood. +</p> +<p>Promptly Alex turned back. “We would be +smothered or roasted in five minutes,” he declared. +“No. It is the water, or nothing. Perhaps we can +work it by floating on a log.” +</p> +<p>As they approached the river, the boys crossed the +old yard siding. Stumbling over the rails, partially +blinded with the now stinging smoke, both suddenly +ran into something, and fell in a heap. Scrambling +to their feet, they found an old push-car, with low +sides. +</p> +<p>Alex uttered a cry. “Jack, why can’t we make a +dash down the spur with this old car—pushing it? +And say, couldn’t we lift it onto the main-line rails, +and run all the way home?” +</p> +<p>Jack hesitated. “Look there,” he said, pointing to +the wall of smoke into which the track disappeared a +hundred yards away. “And wouldn’t there be +burned-down trees across the rails?” +</p> +<p>“No; not yet. The fire hasn’t been burning long +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +enough. And as to the smoke, it’ll soon be just as +bad on the river,” Alex declared. +</p> +<p>“All right. Let us try it. But first, let us jump +in the river and get good and wet,” suggested Jack. +</p> +<p>“Good idea! Come on! +</p> +<p>“Or; wait!” exclaimed Alex. “Another idea. +There is an old rubbish pile just over here, and a lot +of tin cans. Let us get some, and fill them with water—to +keep our handkerchiefs wet, to breathe through.” +</p> +<p>They turned aside, quickly found and secured several +empty cans each, and ran on. Reaching the water, +they dropped the cans on the bank, and plunged in +bodily. +</p> +<p>As Alex had said, the water was intensely cold, and +despite the relief to their eyes from the smoke, they +clambered out again immediately, hastily filled the +tins, and only pausing to tie their dripping handkerchiefs +over their mouths, dashed back for the siding. +</p> +<p>“You help me start her, Jack,” directed Alex as +they placed the cans of water in the forward end of +the car, “and when we reach the edge of the woods, +jump in. I’ll run it the first spell, then you can relieve +me. That way we can keep it going at a good +clip. +</p> +<p>“All ready? Let her go!” With bowed heads +they threw themselves against the little car, the rusty +wheels began to screech; rapidly they gained headway, +and soon were on the run. +</p> +<p>They neared the smoke-hidden border of the clearing. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +<a name='linki_12' id='linki_12'></a> +<img src='images/illus-108.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +WITH A RUSH THEY DASHED INTO THE WALL OF SMOKE. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></div> +<p>“Jump in, Jack!” cried Alex. Jack sprang over +the tail-board and threw himself flat on his face, +and with a rush they dashed into the wall of +smoke. +</p> +<p>Rumbling and screeching, the car sped onward. +Alex began to feel the heat. Suddenly it swept over +them like the breath of a furnace, and there came a +mighty roar. +</p> +<p>They were in the midst of the flames. +</p> +<p>“Are you all right, Alex?” cried Jack. +</p> +<p>“Yes.” A moment later, however, Alex too sprang +into the car, as he did so tearing off his handkerchief +and stuffing it into one of the water-cans. “I couldn’t +have held on another minute,” he choked. “I believe +the handkerchief was burning.” +</p> +<p>Jack prepared to climb out to take Alex’s place. +</p> +<p>“No! Lay still!” interposed Alex. “The car will +run by itself here. There’s a down grade.” +</p> +<p>Jack dropped back thankfully. “Isn’t it awful,” +he gasped. “My eyes are paining as though they +would burst.” +</p> +<p>On rushed the car down the roaring, crackling tunnel +of flames, groaning and screeching like a mad +thing. Tongues of fire began to lick over the sides +of the car at the cringing boys within. +</p> +<p>Faster the car went. Presently it began to rock. +“She’ll be off the track!” cried Jack at last. +</p> +<p>“Lie farther over!” directed Alex above the roar, +himself moving in the opposite direction. The rearrangement +steadied the car slightly, but still it rocked +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +and plunged on the long unused track so that at times +the boys’ hearts leaped into their throats. +</p> +<p>The heat was now terrific. The floor and sides of +the car began to blister and crack. +</p> +<p>“We can’t stand it much longer! We’ll be +cooked!” coughed Jack. +</p> +<p>“Empty one of the cans over your head,” Alex +shouted. “Keep up a few minutes longer, and we will +be over the worst. It is the leaves and brush that are +making the heat, and we’ll soon be where they have +burned out. +</p> +<p>“I think we are over the worst of it now,” he announced +a moment later. “There’s not so much +crackling; and I don’t think it is so hot.” +</p> +<p>Simultaneously the car began to leap less wildly, +then perceptibly to slow up. Alex at once prepared +to climb out again. “I’ll give her another run,” he +said. But promptly Jack pressed him back. “No you +don’t! I’m going to take my turn.” And in another +moment he was out in the full glare of the still shrivelling +heat, rushing the car on at the top of his speed. +A hundred yards he drove it, and scrambled back +within, gasping for breath. Emptying one of the remaining +cans over Jack’s head, Alex sprang out and +took his place. +</p> +<p>A moment after, they struck a slight up grade. +Alex uttered a joyful shout. “Only a short run farther, +Jack, and we’re out of the woods!” +</p> +<p>But immediately he followed this glad announcement +with one of new alarm. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></p> +<p>“The washout! I’d forgotten it! It’s just ahead! +The rails there almost hang in the air!” +</p> +<p>In a panic Alex slowed up. Jack climbed out beside +him. “Let us rush it,” he suggested. “The rails +may hold—like a bridge. We’re not heavy. And +we may as well take one more chance.” +</p> +<p>Alex debated. “All right! Come on! And jump +quick when I say! I think I can tell when we are +near it.” +</p> +<p>Once more the car was flying onward through the +haze. +</p> +<p>“Here we come! <i>Now!</i>” +</p> +<p>With a bound Jack was back in the car. Alex made +a final rush, and sprang after. The car dipped forward +and sideways, a breathless instant seemed to +hang in mid-air, then righted, and shot forward +smoothly. Uttering a hoarse shout of joy, the boys +leaped out, and were again running the car ahead, +and a moment later gave vent to a second and louder +cry. +</p> +<p>In their faces blew the cooler air of a clearing. +</p> +<p>A few yards farther they halted. +</p> +<p>“I can’t see a thing. Can’t open them,” declared +Jack, as they stood rubbing their eyes, and recovering +their breath. +</p> +<p>“Neither can I. Give me your hand, and we’ll +soon fix it. There is a path here down to the water.” +Feeling with his foot, Alex found it, and pulling Jack +after, hastened down, and in another moment both +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +were on their stomachs on the river-bank, their faces +deep in the cooling water. +</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, greatly revived, but with faces +and hands intensely smarting from their burns, the +boys replenished the cans of water—for they still had +a two miles’ run through the smother of smoke—and +lifted the car onto the main-line rails. +</p> +<p>As they did so, from far to the west came a whistle. +</p> +<p>“A train! Can’t we stop her?” suggested Jack. +</p> +<p>“They’d never see us in the smoke.” +</p> +<p>“Then, say, let us throw the old car across the +tracks, so they’ll strike it. They would probably stop +to see what it was.” +</p> +<p>“It might derail her. No. I’ve got it. Come on, +and get the car started so she’ll cross the bridge, and +I’ll explain.” +</p> +<p>“Now,” said Jack, as they rolled out on the +trestle. +</p> +<p>“You remember the steep grade just over the +bridge? Well, we’ll stop about fifty yards this side, +wait till the train whistles the last crossing, then hit +it up for all we are worth, and—” +</p> +<p>“And let the train catch us?” cried Jack. “But, +gracious! won’t that be taking an awful chance?” +</p> +<p>“No, for she won’t be going very fast, on account +of the curve at the bottom, and we’ll be going like a +house afire,” declared Alex, confidently. “And when +she bunts us, we’ll jump for her cow-catcher, and five +minutes later we’ll be out in the glorious fresh air +again.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +<a name='linki_13' id='linki_13'></a> +<img src='images/illus-114.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +CLOSER CAME THE ROARING MONSTER. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></div> +<p>“Well, all right. If you are willing to take the risk, +I am,” said Jack. +</p> +<p>They reached the spot designated by Alex, and +brought the car to a stand. +</p> +<p>Again came the whistle of the train. “Ready!” +cried Alex. “The next time!” +</p> +<p>It came. Like sprinters they threw themselves at +the car, and in a few strides were racing down the +rails at full speed; reached the head of the grade, and +sprang over the tail-board just as the train rumbled +onto the bridge. +</p> +<p>Downward they shot, gaining momentum at every +turn of the wheels. +</p> +<p>“Whe-ew! But we’re taking an awful chance,” +said Jack, nervously. +</p> +<p>“No. Listen to her brakes,” said Alex. +</p> +<p>Despite his assurance, when, a moment later, the +great engine suddenly appeared out of the smoke and +came thundering down upon them, Alex faltered, and, +with Jack, nervously clutched the sides of the little car. +But dashing on unrestrained, they yet further increased +their mad speed, and for a few seconds seemed +even to be holding their own with the mighty mogul. +</p> +<p>Then the great engine began eating up the distance +between them, and the boys gathered themselves together +for the supreme moment. +</p> +<p>Closer came the roaring monster. “Now, don’t +jump,” cautioned Alex, who had regained his nerve. +“Wait until she is just going to hit us, then fall forward +and grab the brace—that rod there. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p> +<p>“Here she comes! Ready! <i>Now!</i>” +</p> +<p>With a jolt the engine hit the car, and in an instant +the boys fell forward, grasped a smoke-box brace, and +in another moment had scrambled to the top of the +cow-catcher. +</p> +<p>And they were safe! +</p> +<p>When, ten minutes later, the train came to a standstill +at Bixton, the engineer suddenly felt his hair rise +on end as two wildly unkempt and blackened figures +appeared slowly dismounting from the front of his +engine, and stumbled across the station platform. +But the shout of joy which greeted them told they +were no ghosts. +</p> +<p>“Although I think we weren’t far from it, were +we, Jack?” said Alex, at home a few minutes after, +when his mother made a similar comparison. +</p> +<p>“I hope I’ll not be as near it again for a long time +to come,” said Jack, earnestly. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_SECRET_TELEGRAM' id='VIII_THE_SECRET_TELEGRAM'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +<h2>VIII</h2> +<h3>THE SECRET TELEGRAM</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Alex, will you work for me three or four hours +to-night?” requested the Bixton night operator +of Alex one evening late in October. “I have +just had an invitation to a surprise party at Brodies’, +and wouldn’t care to miss it.” +</p> +<p>Alex agreed willingly. “I’ll be right in line then +for the latest news of the chase,” he declared. For +an attempt had been made that morning to rob the +Farmers’ Savings Bank at Zeisler, a posse had been +sent from Bixton to aid in the pursuit of the robbers, +and reports from the hunt were being anxiously +looked for. +</p> +<p>“Take care you don’t get in line for any bullets,” +laughed the operator as he left. “It’s your weakness, +you know, to get mixed up in any excitement that’s +going on within a mile of you.” +</p> +<p>To Alex’s disappointment hour after hour passed, +however, and brought no further word, either of the +pursued, or the pursuers. Finally, just before midnight, +hearing Zeisler “come in” on the wire to report +the passing of a freight, Alex reached for the +key, determined to inquire. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p> +<p>As he did so footsteps sounded on the silent platform +without, the waiting-room door opened, and two +strangers appeared at the ticket-window. Glancing +in, they turned to the office door, and entered. +</p> +<p>“Hello, youngster,” said the taller of the two, +cordially, leaning over the parcel-counter. “What’s +the news from the man-hunt?” +</p> +<p>“I was going to ask Zeisler just as you came in,” +replied Alex, turning again to the key. +</p> +<p>“Well, never mind, then. Just tell them they were +captured here, instead.” +</p> +<p>“What! Captured here?” exclaimed Alex. +</p> +<p>“That’s it. About an hour ago, just north, by +the Bloomsbury posse. Sheriff O’Brien sent us down +with the news, so you could send word up and down +the line and call in the other posses. No need of them +plugging around all night.” +</p> +<p>But, instead of complying, Alex suddenly turned +more fully toward the two men. “What posse did +you say you were with?” +</p> +<p>“Bloomsbury! Bloomsbury!” said the smaller +man, impatiently. +</p> +<p>“Bloomsbury! Don’t you mean Bloomsburg?” +</p> +<p>“Well, what thundering difference—” The taller +man flashed a warning gesture, and in an instant Alex +understood. +</p> +<p><i>He was face to face with the bank robbers themselves!</i> +</p> +<p>For a moment he stared from one to the other in +consternation. Then, sharply recovering himself, he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +turned quickly back to the key. But he was too late. +He had betrayed his discovery. +</p> +<p>Both men laughed. “Your surmise is correct, my +young friend,” said the taller man, lightly. “We +are the gentlemen who were forced to leave Zeisler +so hurriedly this morning. +</p> +<p>“But don’t let that make any difference,” he continued, +producing a revolver and placing it significantly +on the counter before him. “Go right ahead +with the message. +</p> +<p>“Or wait, give me a blank, and I’ll write it, so you +will be sure to have it right.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, hold on,” interposed his companion. “Now +that he knows who we are, how do you know he will +send the message as you write it, and not just the other +thing—give us away?” +</p> +<p>The first speaker threw down his pen. “Well, I’m +an idiot. That’s so.” +</p> +<p>He thought a moment, then, turning toward Alex, +eyed him sharply an instant, and said: “Youngster, +I’ll give you a dollar a word if you will give me your +solemn promise to send this message just as I write +it.” +</p> +<p>A bare instant Alex hesitated, while the tempter +whispered that it would mean thirty or forty dollars +for a few minutes’ work, and that everyone would +take it for granted he had been compelled to send it. +Then abruptly he leaned back in his chair and shook +his head. “I couldn’t do it,” he said quietly but +positively. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p> +<p>“Oh, you couldn’t, eh, Goody-goody?” exclaimed +the smaller man, with a snarl, catching up the revolver +and pointing it at Alex’s head. “Now could you do +it?” +</p> +<p>The taller man caught his arm. “Don’t be a fool, +Jake. After all, we couldn’t be sure he wasn’t fooling +us even if he took the money. +</p> +<p>“Look here, I have a scheme.” +</p> +<p>They stepped back and spoke together in low tones +for a moment; then the taller turned again to Alex, +who meantime had remained quiet in his chair, futilely +endeavoring to think of some means of spreading the +alarm. +</p> +<p>“I suppose you are not the only operator at this +station, kid?” +</p> +<p>“No; there is a day and a night operator. I am +only ‘subbing’ for the night man,” responded Alex, +wondering. +</p> +<p>“Where is he?” +</p> +<p>“At a party.” +</p> +<p>“Where is the day man?” +</p> +<p>“At his boarding-house. But you couldn’t +get either of them to do it,” Alex declared confidently, +thinking he had caught the drift of their +purpose. +</p> +<p>“Never mind what we could or what we couldn’t. +Where does the day operator board? Is it far?” +</p> +<p>Momentarily Alex had a mind to refuse to tell; +then, on the thought that suspicion might be aroused +if one of the robbers went to rout the day man out, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +he replied, “About a quarter of a mile,” and described +how the house could be reached. +</p> +<p>Again the two men held a whispered consultation, +and at its conclusion the smaller man hurriedly left. +</p> +<p>“Now I suppose you are wondering what we propose +doing with the day operator,” said the tall man, +with a grin, when they were alone. “Well, it’s so +good I think I’ll tell you. One of the cleverest getaway +schemes you ever heard of, and my own idea. +Can you guess?” +</p> +<p>Alex shook his head. “If it’s not to send the +message—and which I know he won’t—I don’t +know.” +</p> +<p>The robber laughed. “You are going to send the +message, and he is going to stand just outside the +door here and tell us letter by letter just what you +make the instruments say. See?” +</p> +<p>Alex uttered an exclamation. And, strange as it +may seem, it was not entirely of chagrin, for the +striking originality and ingenuity of the plan immediately +appealed to his own peculiar genius for getting +over difficulties. +</p> +<p>“And then,” continued the talkative safe-breaker, +“we will tie you both in your chairs, cut the wires, +then flag the night express, and depart for the East +like respectable citizens, and by the time you have +been found and the wires restored we will be well out +of danger. +</p> +<p>“Now, I claim there is some class to that scheme. +What?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p> +<p>Despite himself, Alex could not forbear a smile, +even while he at once saw that to defeat the plan would +be almost an impossibility. Nevertheless, as the bank +robber turned his attention to a time-table, Alex determinedly +addressed his wits to the problem. +</p> +<p>Presently, as he sat looking at the telegraph instruments +for an inspiration, he started. That last +First of April joke he had played on his father! The +cut-off arrangement of wires was still in place beneath +the instrument table! Could he not use it? +</p> +<p>He determined to see whether the connections were +still in order. Fortunately he was sitting close to the +table, with his feet beneath. Making a move as +though tired of his position, he crossed one foot over +the other, and sank a little lower in the chair. Then, +the change having brought no comment from the man +at the counter, he carefully reached out the upper foot, +found the two wires and pressed them together. Immediately +came a click from the instruments. +</p> +<p>It was in working order! With hope Alex at once +addressed himself to its possibilities, and soon a suggestion +came. “Yes, I believe I could do it,” he told +himself with satisfaction. “I’ll make a try anyway. +So much for never giving up.” +</p> +<p>At that moment the footfalls of the returning robber +and those of another sounded on the platform +without. Both men were talking, and as they entered +the waiting-room Alex heard the evidently still unsuspecting +Jones say: “Funny, though. I never heard +of the boy being troubled with his heart before.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +<a name='linki_14' id='linki_14'></a> +<img src='images/illus-123.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +“COME ON! COME ON!” EXCLAIMED THE MAN IN THE<br /> +DOORWAY. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></div> +<p>The next moment Jones’s casual tones changed to +a sharp cry of fright, and Alex knew that the robber +had revealed himself. “Now you keep your tongue +between your teeth, and do exactly what you are told, +young man, or you get this! You understand? +</p> +<p>“Now turn about—your back toward the office +door—so.” The door was flung open, and the robber +appeared standing sideways, his gun in his hand, +pointing at the day operator, who was just out of +Alex’s sight. +</p> +<p>“Now what you are to do is to read off letter by +letter what this young shaver in here sends on the +wire. You are a tab on him. You understand?” +</p> +<p>In a trembling voice Jones responded in the affirmative. +</p> +<p>“And the first one of you who appears to do anything +not straight and aboveboard gets daylight +through his head,” he added, raising his voice for +Alex’s benefit. Then, addressing his partner, he said: +“Give the kid the message, Bill.” +</p> +<p>The tall man leaned over the counter and tossed the +blank on the table before Alex. +</p> +<p>“Who will I send it to first?” asked Alex. +</p> +<p>“The sheriff, Watson Siding.” +</p> +<p>“All right. But first, you know, I have to call +him,” explained Alex, somewhat nervously, now that +the critical moment had come. “His call is WS.” +</p> +<p>Therewith he began slowly calling, that Jones might +read off each letter as he sent it, “WS, WS, WS, +BX.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p> +<p>“WS, WS—” +</p> +<p>“I, I,” answered WS. +</p> +<p>“WS answers,” interpreted Jones. +</p> +<p>Steadying himself with a deep breath, Alex proceeded +to carry out his plan. Carefully reaching forth +with his foot beneath the table, he pressed the two +wires together, then loudly clicked his key. The instruments, +thus “cut out,” of course failed to respond. +</p> +<p>“The wire appears to have opened,” announced +Jones. “Probably the man at WS has opened his +key while getting a blank or a pen.” +</p> +<p>Again Alex clicked the key as though in a futile +effort to send, then leaving it open, thus holding the +instruments on the table “dead,” began ticking his +foot against the impromptu key beneath the table. +</p> +<p>And while the instruments at Bixton remained +momentarily silent, the surprised operator at Watson +Siding read in draggy but decipherable signals the +words: +</p> +<p>“Read every other word.” +</p> +<p>“Come on! Come on!” exclaimed the man in the +doorway, turning suspiciously. Immediately Alex +withdrew his foot and closed the key, and at the resulting +audible click Jones announced: “The wire has +closed. He can send now.” +</p> +<p>“All right. Come ahead,” commanded the short +man, impatiently. +</p> +<p>Then very deliberately, with a pause after each +word, seemingly to enable Jones to interpret, but really +to give himself time to send another word, unheard, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +beneath the table, Alex sent on the key, and Jones +read aloud, the following message: +</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sheriff</span>, +</p> +<p>“Watson Siding: +</p> +<p>“Safe-blowers have been captured near here. Call +in your posse. +</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style='text-align: right; '>“(Signed) O’Brien,</p> +<p style='text-align: right; '>“Sheriff Quigg County.”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>What the at first puzzled and then thunderstruck +operator at Watson Siding read off his instrument ran +very differently. It read: +</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Safe THEY blowers ARE have HERE been IN +captured STATION near INTEND here. GOING +call OUT in BY your NIGHT posse. EXPRESS. +</p> +<p>“(Signed) ’PHONE O’Brien, +“BACK Sheriff HERE Quigg QUICK County.” +</p> +</div> +<p>A moment after giving his “OK” the Watson +Siding operator was at the telephone calling for Bixton +central. +</p> +<p>Meantime, having thus sent the message to WS +to the bank-breakers’ satisfaction, Alex proceeded to +call and send it by turns to Zeisler, Hammerton, and +other stations on the line. Sending slowly, to make +the most of his time, it was within fifteen minutes of +the hour the express was due when Alex had sent the +last of the messages. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p> +<p>“Now you can step in and see your friend,” said +the man in the doorway, addressing Jones, who appeared, +white and trembling, and coming behind the +counter, dropped into a chair facing Alex. The +speaker then once more disappeared, and presently an +opening click of the instruments told the nature of his +errand. The wires had been cut. +</p> +<p>He soon returned, and rummaging about, while the +taller man stood guard over them, he found some +ropes, and proceeded to bind Alex and the day operator +tightly in their chairs. +</p> +<p>Just as the task was completed there came a long-drawn +whistle from the west. Both robbers promptly +turned to the door. “Well, good night, gentlemen,” +said the smaller, grimly. “Much obliged for your +kind services.” +</p> +<p>“And I would just pause to repeat,” said the taller, +jocosely, “that there is some class to this getaway +scheme, should any one ask you. Good night.” +</p> +<p>“<i>Yes, there is class—but it isn’t first!</i>” +</p> +<p>Uttering a cry the two bank robbers staggered back +from the door, and with a bound the deputy sheriff +and a constable were upon them, bore them to the +floor, and after a brief but terrific struggle disarmed +and handcuffed them. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the sheriff, rising, and with his knife +quickly freeing the two prisoners, “there was class +to it, but it was <i>second</i>. +</p> +<p>“Our young friend here takes ‘<i>first</i>.’” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +<a name='linki_15' id='linki_15'></a> +<img src='images/illus-129.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +“HOW DID YOU DO IT, SMARTY?” SNAPPED THE SHORTER MAN. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></div> +<p>The robbers turned upon Alex with furiously flashing eyes. +“How did you do it, smarty?” snapped the shorter man. +</p> +<p>Alex laughed, kicked one foot beneath the table, and +the instrument responded with a click. “A little First +of April trick. What do you think of it?” +</p> +<p>Whatever the two renegades might have said +through their gritting teeth, there was no doubt as to +what the sheriff and the others thought. Nor the bank +officials at Zeisler, when, a day later, there came to +Alex a highly commendatory letter and a check for +two hundred dollars. +</p> +<p>But better even than this, in Alex’s estimation, a +few mornings after the chief despatcher called him to +the wire and announced his appointment as night operator +at Foothills, a small town on the western division. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_JACK_PLAYS_REPORTER_WITH_UNEXPECTED_RESULTS' id='IX_JACK_PLAYS_REPORTER_WITH_UNEXPECTED_RESULTS'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +<h2>IX</h2> +<h3>JACK PLAYS REPORTER, WITH UNEXPECTED RESULTS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Not long after Alex left Bixton to take up his +duties at Foothills, Jack, at Hammerton, also +received an advancement. In itself it was not of particular +note, beyond an encouraging increase in salary, +and a transfer from the day to the night force; but +indirectly it resulted in an experience more thrilling +than any Jack’s genius for tackling adventurous difficulties +had yet brought him. +</p> +<p>Wheeling by the office of the “Daily Star” one +afternoon, he heard his name called, and turned his +head to discover West, the reporter with whom he +had made the memorable Oakton trip, hastening after +him. +</p> +<p>“Just the man I was looking for, Jack,” declared +West, as the young operator wheeled to the curb. “I +have a job for you. +</p> +<p>“How would you like to tackle a bit of Black Hand +investigation?” +</p> +<p>Jack laughed. “You don’t mean it.” +</p> +<p>“I certainly do. It’s this way,” went on the reporter, +lowering his voice. “A Black Hand letter demanding +money was received last week by Tommy +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +Spanelli, of the Italian restaurant. It was mailed +here; and we have the tip that last evening two +foreigners were seen stealing across the old quarry +turnpike, and into the woods, as though not wishing +to be seen. Of course they may not be connected with +this at all, but again they may; and I was put on the +job to find out. The difficulty is that I am too well +known. If they caught sight of me, they would be +suspicious immediately. +</p> +<p>“But they would never suspect a lad like you,” +West proceeded; “and I know you could carry anything +through that came along. So will you run out +there and investigate for me?” +</p> +<p>“Why, certainly. But just what shall I do?” Jack +asked. +</p> +<p>“Wheel up and down the quarry turnpike for an +hour or so, then, if you have seen no one, beat around +through the woods as far as the old stone quarry. +And any foreigners you come upon, take a good look +at. That’s all. And drop in at the office here in the +morning, and report.” +</p> +<p>“That’s easy. All right,” agreed Jack readily. +</p> +<p>“Thank you. And keep the matter quiet, you +know,” West added. “We want an exclusive story +for the ‘Star’ if anything comes of it.” +</p> +<p>“I understand. And, say,” said Jack as he turned +away, “I’ll take my camera, too. I may be able to +get a snap of them, if I see anyone.” +</p> +<p>“Good idea. A picture would help to land them, +if they are the fellows we want; and we could run +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +it in the paper with our story. Go ahead, Jack, and +good luck.” +</p> +<p>Jack was not long in wheeling home and securing +his folding Brownie; and a half hour later found him +pedalling slowly along the quarry road near the point +several miles from the city where the suspicious foreigners +had been seen to enter the woods. +</p> +<p>An hour passed, however, and he had seen no +doubtful characters, and finally dismounting at the entrance +to a path he knew to lead toward the old stone +quarry, Jack concealed his wheel in a thicket, and set +off to make an investigation in that direction. +</p> +<p>A moment after he came to a halt with a sharp +exclamation. In the path at his feet lay a murderous-looking +stiletto. Picking it up, he examined it. Yes; +it was of foreign make. And the still damp mud +stains on the side of the blade which had lain uppermost +showed it had been but recently dropped. +</p> +<p>Apprehensively Jack cast a glance about him, almost +immediately to utter a second suppressed exclamation. +Emerging from the woods on the opposite side of +the road was a short, dark man—undoubtedly an +Italian. +</p> +<p>With beating heart Jack watched him. Was he one +of the men he was looking for? +</p> +<p>In the middle of the road the stranger halted, looked +sharply to right and left, and came quickly forward. +Darting from the path Jack threw himself on the +ground behind a bush, and the next moment the man +hurriedly passed him. He was soon out of sight, and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +rising, Jack placed the dagger carefully in an inside +pocket, and determinedly set off after. +</p> +<p>Half a mile he followed the Italian amid the trees. +Then there appeared the light of an opening, and going +forward more carefully, Jack found himself on the +edge of the quarry clearing. The foreigner was hurrying +along the brink of the excavation, evidently +heading for a small tumble-down cabin at its farther +end. +</p> +<p>The man reached the shanty, and knocked. To +Jack’s surprise the door was opened by a negro. +</p> +<p>Wonder at this was quickly forgotten, however, for +as the door closed from the woods behind Jack came +the sound of voices, then an ejaculation in Italian. A +moment Jack stood, in consternation, believing he had +been seen. But a glance showed that the owners of +the voices were yet out of sight beyond a rise, and +recalling his wits, Jack ran for a nearby clump of +elders. +</p> +<p>The voices came quickly nearer. Suddenly then, +for the first time Jack recalled the camera. At once +came the suggestion to get a snap of the newcomers as +they stepped into the clearing. +</p> +<p>Jack glanced about him. A short distance away, +and but a few feet from the path, was a low, tent-like +spruce. With instant decision he made for it, drawing +the camera from his pocket as he ran. +</p> +<p>Dropping to his knees, he wormed his way beneath +the tree, and through to the opposite side. Finding an +aperture commanding the exit of the path, he opened +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +and focused the camera upon it. The next moment +the two Italians appeared. For the fraction of a second +Jack hesitated, fearing the click of the shutter +might betray him. But he took the chance, there was +a crisp, low click—and he had them, and they had +passed on. +</p> +<p>Chuckling with delight, Jack crept forth. What +next? Looking toward the shanty, he again saw the +door opened by the negro. This decided him. Replacing +the camera in his pocket, he set off on a circuit +through the trees that would bring him back to +the clearing immediately opposite the shanty, determined +if possible to reach it, and learn what was going +on inside. +</p> +<p>Without incident he made the point desired, and +gazing from the cover of a bush, discovered with satisfaction +that the two hundred yards separating him +from his goal was dotted with small bushy spruce. +More important still, on that side of the cabin were +no windows. +</p> +<p>Stooping, Jack was about to steal forth, when he +paused with a new idea. It came from a stray piece +of wrapping-paper lying on the ground before him. +</p> +<p>Why couldn’t he conceal the camera in this paper, +with a string tied to the shutter; approach the house, +knock, ask some question, and secretly snap whoever +opened the door? +</p> +<p>To think was to decide, and at once he set about +preparations. Finding some cord in a pocket, he first +deadened the click of the shutter with a thread of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +string, and secured a piece of it to the shutter trigger. +Carefully then he wrapped the camera, open, in the +paper, and with his knife cut a small hole opposite the +lens, and a second and smaller hole beneath. Through +the latter he fished out the trigger-string—and the +detective camera was complete. +</p> +<p>Without delay Jack adjusted the parcel under his +arm, holding the trigger-string in his fingers, and +strode boldly forward toward the shanty. He reached +it, approached the door, and knocked. From within +came the sound of voices, then a heavy step. Drawing +the string taut Jack moved back several paces, and +pointed the opening in the package at the door. +</p> +<p>But success was not to come too easily. The latch +lifted, and the door opened only a few inches, barely +showing the eyes and flat nose of the negro. +</p> +<p>“W’at yo’ want?” he demanded. +</p> +<p>“Would you please tell me the way out to the +road?” said Jack steadily. +</p> +<p>The negro regarded him sharply a moment, then +opening the door barely sufficient to reach out a hand, +pointed toward the woods, and said gruffly, “Yo’ see +dat broke tree? Right out dah.” +</p> +<p>“Which one? I see two,” declared Jack, coolly. +</p> +<p>Impatiently the negro threw the door wide, stepped +out, and pointed again. In an instant Jack had pulled +the string, and from the parcel had come a soft +“thugk!” “Thank you, sir,” said Jack, turning +away, and inwardly chuckling at the double meaning +of the words. “Thank you.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>“But look aheah, boy,” added the colored man +threateningly, “doan yo’ be prowlin’ roun’ heah! +Un’stan’?” +</p> +<p>“No fear. I’ll be glad when I’m away,” responded +Jack, again secretly laughing, and headed for the +woods, the negro watching him until he was half way +across the clearing. +</p> +<p>Once more in the shelter of the trees, Jack determined +to follow up his success by endeavoring to +discover just what was taking place at the cabin. Hiding +the camera in a convenient brush-heap, he made +sure all was quiet, and again stole forth. Slipping +quickly from shrub to shrub, he safely made the crossing, +and came to a halt at the rear of the shanty. +</p> +<p>To his ears came the sound of voices in subdued +discussion. They were so muffled, however, that he +could distinguish nothing, and recalling a partly open +window at the front, he went forward to the corner, +peered cautiously about, and tiptoed to within a few +feet of it. +</p> +<p>At once the voices came to him plainly. +</p> +<p>“You gotta dat?” +</p> +<p>“Stan’ in doo’way, hat in yo’ han’, upside down,” +responded the colored man’s gruff voice. +</p> +<p>Wondering, Jack drew nearer. +</p> +<p>“At halfa da past two by da beeg clock,” continued +the first speaker. +</p> +<p>There was a pause, and the negro repeated, “At +half pas’ two by dah city clock, shahp.” +</p> +<p>Suddenly it came to Jack. At the dictation of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +Italian, the negro was writing a “Black Hand” letter—ordering +one of their victims to display some signal +to show that the demand for money would be complied +with! +</p> +<p>The Italian’s next sentence left no further doubt. +“If you no giva da sign, you deada man by seex +clock.” +</p> +<p>At the words, and the fierceness with which they +were uttered, Jack felt a chill run up his spine. Had +he followed his immediate impulse he would have +fled. But determining to learn if possible who the +letter was for, he waited. +</p> +<p>“What numbah?” asked the negro. +</p> +<p>“Feefity-nine Main.” +</p> +<p>The Italian restaurant! Another letter to Spanelli! +The men he was after! +</p> +<p>Jack waited to hear no more, but tiptoeing back +about the corner, was off for the woods, jubilant at +his success. +</p> +<p>Indeed Jack was over jubilant—so jubilant that he +forgot the necessity of caution, made a short cut across +an open space in full view of the shanty, and half +way was brought to a sudden realization of his +mistake by the creak of an opening door. In consternation +he at once saw he could not reach cover +before being seen, and also that did he run, the +Black-Handers would understand they had been discovered. +</p> +<p>With quick presence of mind he recognized and +instantly did the one thing possible. Turning, he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +headed back boldly for the cabin. The next instant the +three Italians came into view, immediately discovered +him, and halted. Secretly trembling, but with a cool +front, Jack approached them as they stood, excitedly +whispering. +</p> +<p>“Would you kindly tell me the time?” he asked. +</p> +<p>The three men exchanged glances, then, as at a +signal, stepped forward and surrounded him. “Now, +whata you want?” demanded one of them sharply, +thrusting his dark face close to Jack’s. Before Jack +could repeat his question the shanty door opened and +the negro appeared. Exclaiming angrily, he ran +toward them. +</p> +<p>“W’at he want? W’at he want now?” he demanded. +</p> +<p>“He say, whata da time,” repeated one of the +Italians. +</p> +<p>“W’at de time? He am a spy! A spy!” cried the +negro. “In de house with him!” Jack sprang back, +and turned to run. With a rush the negro and one +of the foreigners were upon him, and despite his terrified +struggles he was dragged bodily into the shanty. +There they flung him heavily into a chair, and gathered +menacingly about him. +</p> +<p>“Now boy, w’at yo’ spyin’ roun’ heah fo’? Eh?” +demanded the negro fiercely. +</p> +<p>Instinctively Jack opened his lips to deny the charge, +but closed them, and remained in dogged silence. +Despite his peril, he felt he could not tell a deliberate +falsehood. The negro repeated the question. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p> +<p>“I simply asked them the time,” said Jack evasively. +</p> +<p>With a snarl one of the foreigners caught him by +the shoulders and yanked him upright. “Tie heem!” +he directed, and roughly two of the others drew +Jack’s hands behind him, and bound them with a cord. +As one of the Italians then proceeded to tie a handkerchief +about his ankles, Jack barely suppressed a cry +of fright. But grimly he clenched his teeth, and not +a sound escaped him as the negro then caught him up, +carried him across the room, kicked open a door, and +threw him upon the floor within. +</p> +<p>For a few minutes Jack lay dazed, then turning on +his side, he looked about him. By the dim light of +a dusty window he saw he was in a small, roughly +furnished bedroom. Before he had taken in further +particulars, however, a sound of heated discussion in +the outer room drew his attention. +</p> +<p>“No, no! We can’t taka da chance!” came the +voice of one of the Italians. “Not wid dat boy!” +</p> +<p>Filled anew with terror Jack struggled to a sitting +position and began straining desperately at his bonds. +A moment’s effort caused his heart to sink. The knots +were as taut as though made of wire. +</p> +<p>Determinedly he continued to strain and pull, however, +and presently, losing his balance, he rolled over +on his side, and something hard pressed into his +chest. +</p> +<p>The dagger he had picked up! Quickly he saw the +possibility of using it. Working again into a sitting +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +position, he bent low and sought to reach inside his +coat and seize the hilt of the knife with his teeth. But +as often as he reached, the coat swung, and the hilt +evaded him. +</p> +<p>Jack was not to be beaten, however. Getting to his +knees, he bent far over, until his head almost touched +the floor, and fell vigorously to shaking himself. At +the second effort the dagger slipped out to the floor. +Quickly then he got a firm hold on the end of the +handle with his teeth, struggled again to a sitting +position, drew his knees up as far as possible, and +bending low between them, began stabbing at the +handkerchief about his ankles with the point of the +weapon. +</p> +<p>At the first attempt the knife barely touched the +handkerchief. He tried again, and just reached it. +Throwing his head far back, to gain momentum, he +lunged forward with all his strength. The keen point +struck the linen squarely, there was a rip and tear—and +his feet were free. +</p> +<p>As the severed handkerchief fell from his ankles, +the dagger, slipping from Jack’s teeth, clattered to the +floor. But the noisy discussion still going on without +prevented its being heard; and promptly Jack turned +to the problem of freeing his hands. +</p> +<p>As they were tied behind him, this promised to be +far more difficult. Indeed Jack’s courage was beginning +to fail him, when the method of freeing his +ankles suggested a possibility. At once he essayed it. +Rising to a kneeling position, he strained at his wrists +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +for several minutes, then, bending far over, began +working his hands down beneath him. +</p> +<p>It seemed as though they would never come, and +again and again he had to pause for breath. Desperately +he continued, and suddenly at last they slipped, +and were under him, directly below his knees. +</p> +<p>Throwing himself over on his side, he once more +grasped the dagger hilt in his teeth, and as he lay, +carefully aimed the point between his legs at the cord +about his wrists, and gave a quick, hard thrust. At +the first blow he struck the cord fairly, but only half +severed the strand. Again he lunged, and the next +moment he was free. +</p> +<p>The heated debate was still in progress in the outer +room, and nearly exhausted though he was, Jack immediately +scrambled to his feet and tiptoed to the +window. To his joy he discovered it was made of a +sliding frame, only fastened by a loosely-driven nail. +It required but a few minutes’ work to remove this, +and very cautiously he began sliding the window +back. +</p> +<p>Half way it went easily, without noise. Then it +stuck. Carefully Jack put his shoulder to it. Suddenly, +without warning, it gave, then stopped with a +jar, and to his horror a broken pane shot from the +frame and fell clattering to the floor. +</p> +<p>From the other room came a shout and a rush of +feet. In desperation Jack stepped back, and with a +run fairly dove at the opening. His head and shoulders +passed through, then he stuck. Behind him the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +door flew open. With a desperate wriggle he struggled +through, and fell in a heap to the ground just as +the negro reached the window and made a wild lunge +for him. The next moment Jack was on his feet and +off across the clearing like a hare. +</p> +<p>The four lawbreakers were quickly out of the house +in full chase. Presently there was the report of a +pistol, and a shrill “wheeeu” just over Jack’s head. +Ducking instinctively, but with grimly set lips, he +rushed on. Again came the whine of a bullet, and +again. With a final sprint Jack reached the cover of +the woods in safety, darted to the brush-pile and recovered +his camera, and on, straight through the trees +for the spot at which he had hidden his wheel. +</p> +<p>Love of outdoor life and sports now stood Jack in +good stead. Despite the exhausting efforts of his escape, +and the hard running amid the trees, over trunks +and through undergrowth, he kept on at the top of his +speed, and finally reached the road ahead of the nearest +of his pursuers. +</p> +<p>Rushing for his wheel, he dragged it forth, and +quickly had it on the road. Not a moment too soon. +As he sprang into the saddle there was a shout and a +crash of bushes but a few feet from him. But throwing +all his weight on the pedals, he shot away, and +a moment after sped about a bend in the road—and +was safe. +</p> +<p>Jack would not have been a real boy had there not +been considerable pride in his voice when, entering +the “Star” office the following morning, he handed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +West, the reporter, two small photographs, neatly +mounted, and said: +</p> +<p>“Here are the pictures, Mr. West.” +</p> +<p>West sprang to his feet. “No! Great! Splendid!” +he cried. “How did you do it, Jack? +</p> +<p>“But here—” Pushing Jack into a chair, he +dropped back into his own, and caught up a pencil. +“Give me the whole story, from beginning to end. If +the police round up these fellows this morning we will +run it in to-day’s edition.” +</p> +<p>This, with the aid of Jack’s snap-shots, the police +did, capturing the entire band; and that afternoon’s +edition of the “Star” carried a two-column story of +Jack’s adventure with the Black-Handers, which, with +the pictures, made what West declared “the biggest +story of a month of Sundays.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_A_RUNAWAY_TRAIN' id='X_A_RUNAWAY_TRAIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +<h2>X</h2> +<h3>A RUNAWAY TRAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Hurry in, Ward, or the lamp will be out!” +</p> +<p>Alex, who had now been night operator at +Foothills six months, closed the station door behind +him, and laughingly flicked his rain-soaked cap toward +the day operator, whom he had just come to relieve. +</p> +<p>“Is it raining that hard? You look like a drowned +rat for sure,” said Saunders as he reached for his hat +and coat. “Why didn’t you stay at home, and ’phone +down? I would have been glad to work for you—not.” +</p> +<p>“Wait until you are out in it, and you’ll not +laugh,” declared Alex, struggling out of his dripping +ulster. “It is the worst storm this spring.” +</p> +<p>“And wait until you see the fun you are going to +have with the wire to-night, and you’ll not indulge +in an over-abundance of smiles. I haven’t had a dot +from the despatcher since six o’clock. Had to get +clearance for Nineteen around by MQ, and now we’ve +lost them.” +</p> +<p>“There is someone now,” said Alex, as the instruments +began clicking. +</p> +<p>“It’s somebody west. IC, I think. Yes; Indian +Canyon,” said Saunders, pausing as he turned to the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +door. “What is he after? He certainly can’t make +himself heard by X if we can’t.” +</p> +<p>“X, X, X,” rapidly repeated the sounder, calling +Exeter, the despatching office. “X, X, X! Qk!” +</p> +<p>Alex and Saunders looked at one another with a +start. Several times the operator at Indian Canyon +repeated the call, more urgently, then as hurriedly +began calling Imken, the next station east of him. +</p> +<p>“There must be something wrong,” declared Alex, +stepping to the instrument table. Saunders followed +him. +</p> +<p>“IM, IM, IC, Qk! Qk!” clicked the sounder. +</p> +<p>“IM, IM—” +</p> +<p>“I, I, IM,” came the response, and the two operators +at Foothills listened closely. +</p> +<p>“A wild string of loaded ore cars just passed here,” +buzzed the instruments. “Were going forty miles an +hour. They’ll be down there in no time. If there’s +anything on the main line get it off. I can’t raise X +for orders.” +</p> +<p>The two listening operators exchanged glances of +alarm, and anxiously awaited Imken’s response. For +a moment the sounder made a succession of inarticulate +dots, then ticked excitedly, “Yes, yes! OK! +OK!” and closed. +</p> +<p>“What did he mean by that?” asked Saunders +beneath his breath. “That there was something on +the main track there?” +</p> +<p>“Perhaps a switch engine cutting out ore empties. +We’ll know in a minute.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>The wire again snapped open, and whirred, “I got +it off—the yard engine! Just in time! Here they +come now! Like thunder! +</p> +<p>“There—they’re by! Are ten of them. All +loaded. Going like an avalanche. Lucky thing the +yard engine was—” +</p> +<p>Sharply the operator at Indian Canyon broke in to +hurriedly call Terryville, the next station east. +</p> +<p>“But the runaways won’t pass Terryville, will +they?” Alex exclaimed. “Won’t the grades between +there and Imken pull them up?” +</p> +<p>Saunders shook his head. “Ten loaded ore cars +travelling at that rate would climb those grades.” +</p> +<p>“Then they will be down here—and in twenty or +thirty minutes! And there’s the Accommodation +coming from the east,” said Alex rapidly, “and we +can’t reach anyone to stop her!” +</p> +<p>Saunders stared. “That’s so. I’d forgotten her. +But what can we do?” he demanded helplessly. +</p> +<p>Terryville answered, and in strained silence they +awaited his report. “Yes, they are coming. I +thought it was thunder. +</p> +<p>“Here they are now,” he added an instant after. +</p> +<p>“They’re past!” +</p> +<p>“They’ll reach us! What shall we do?” gasped +Saunders. +</p> +<p>Alex turned from the table, and as the Indian Canyon +operator hastily called Jakes Creek, the last station +intervening, began striding up and down the +room, thinking rapidly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p> +<p>If they only had more battery—could make the +current in the wire stronger! Immediately on the +thought came remembrance of the emergency battery +he had made the previous year at Watson Siding. He +spun about toward the office water-cooler. But only +to utter an exclamation of disappointment. This +cooler was of tin—of course useless for such a purpose. +</p> +<p>Hurriedly he began casting about for a substitute. +“Billy, think of something we can make a big battery +jar of!” he cried. “To strengthen the wire!” +</p> +<p>“A battery? But what would we do for bluestone? +I used the last yesterday!” +</p> +<p>Alex returned to the table, and threw himself hopelessly +into the chair. +</p> +<p>At the moment the Jakes Creek operator answered +his call, and received the message of warning. +</p> +<p>“Say,” said Saunders, “perhaps some of the other +fellows on the wire have bluestone and the other stuff, +and could make a battery!” +</p> +<p>Alex uttered a shout. “That’s it!” he cried, and +springing to the telegraph key, as soon as the wire +closed, called Indian Canyon. “Have you any extra +battery material there?” he sent quickly. +</p> +<p>“No. Why—” +</p> +<p>Abruptly Alex cut him off and called Imken. He +also responded in the negative. But from Terryville +came a prompt “Yes. Why—” +</p> +<p>“Have you one of those big stoneware water-coolers +there?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>“Yes, but wh—” +</p> +<p>“Do you know how to make a battery?” +</p> +<p>“No.” +</p> +<p>“Well, listen—” +</p> +<p>The instruments had suddenly failed to respond. A +minute passed, and another. Five went by, and Alex +sank back in the chair in despair. Undoubtedly the +storm had broken the wire somewhere. +</p> +<p>“Everything against us!” he declared bitterly. +“And the runaways will be down here now in fifteen +or twenty minutes. What can we do?” +</p> +<p>“I can’t think of anything but throwing the west +switch,” said Saunders. “And loaded, and going at +the speed they are, they’ll make a mess of everything +on the siding. But that’s the only way I can think +of stopping them.” +</p> +<p>“If there was any way a fellow could get aboard +the runaways—” +</p> +<p>Alex broke off sharply. Would it not be possible +to board the runaway train as he and Jack had boarded +the engine on the day of the forest fire? Say, from a +hand-car? +</p> +<p>He started to his feet. “Billy, get me a lantern, +quick! +</p> +<p>“I’m going for the section-boss, and see if we can’t +board the runaways from the hand-car,” he explained +as he caught up and began struggling into his coat. +“I did that once at Bixton—boarded an engine.” +</p> +<p>“Board it! How?” +</p> +<p>“Run ahead of it, and let it catch us.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p>Saunders sprang for the lantern, lit it, and catching +it up, Alex was out the door, and off across the tracks +through the still pouring rain for the lights of the +section foreman’s house. Darting through the gate, +he ran about to the kitchen door, and without ceremony +flung it open. The foreman was at the table, +at his supper. He started to his feet. +</p> +<p>“Joe, there is a wild ore train coming down from +the Canyon,” explained Alex breathlessly, “and the +wire has failed east so we can’t clear the line. +Couldn’t we get the jigger out and board the runaways +by letting them catch us?” +</p> +<p>An instant the section-boss stared, then with the +promptitude of the old railroader seized his cap, exclaiming +“Go ahead!” and together they dashed out +to the gate, and across the tracks in the direction of +the tool-house. +</p> +<p>“Where did they start from? How many cars?” +asked the foreman as they ran. +</p> +<p>“Indian Canyon. Ten, and all loaded.” +</p> +<p>The section-man whistled. “They’ll be going +twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. We will be taking +a big chance. But if we can catch them just over +the grade beyond the sand-pits I guess we can do it. +That will have slackened them. +</p> +<p>“Here we are.” +</p> +<p>As they halted before the section-house door the +boss uttered a cry. “I haven’t the key!” +</p> +<p>Alex swung the lantern about, and discovered a +pile of ties. “Smash it in,” he suggested, dropping +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +the lantern. One on either side they caught up a tie, +swayed back, and hurled it forward. There was a +crash, and the door swung open. +</p> +<p>Catching up the lantern, they dashed in, threw from +the hand-car its collection of tools, placed the light +upon it, ran it out, and swung it onto the rails. +</p> +<p>“Do you hear them?” asked Alex as he threw off +his coat. The foreman dropped to his knees and +placed his ear to the rails, listened a moment, and +sprang to his feet. “Yes, they’re coming! Come +on! +</p> +<p>“Run her a ways first.” They pushed the car +ahead, quickly had it on the run, and springing aboard, +seized the handles, and one on either side, began pumping +up and down with all their strength. +</p> +<p>As they neared the station the door opened and +Saunders ran to the edge of the platform. “The +wire came O K and I just heard Z pass Thirty-three,” +he shouted, “but couldn’t make them hear me. He +reported the superintendent’s—” +</p> +<p>They whirled by, and the rest was lost. +</p> +<p>“Did you catch it?” shouted Alex above the roar +of the car. +</p> +<p>“I think he meant,” shouted the foreman as he +swung up and down, “superintendent’s car ... attached +to the Accommodation ... heard he was +coming ... makes it bad.... We need every minute +QQQ and Old Jerry ... the engineer ... ’ll be +breaking his neck ... to bring her ... through on +time! +</p> +<p>“Do you hear ... runaways yet?” +</p> +<p>“No.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +<a name='linki_16' id='linki_16'></a> +<img src='images/illus-153.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THEY WHIRLED BY, AND THE REST WAS LOST. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></div> +<p>On they rushed through the darkness, bobbing up +and down like jumping-jacks, the little car rumbling +and screeching, and bounding forward like a live +thing. +</p> +<p>The terrific and unaccustomed strain began to tell +on Alex. Perspiration broke out on his forehead, his +muscles began to burn, and his breath to shorten. +</p> +<p>“How much farther ... to the grade?” he +panted. +</p> +<p>“Here it is now. Six hundred yards to the +top.” +</p> +<p>As they felt the resistance of the incline Alex began +to weaken and gasp for breath. Grimly, however, he +clenched his teeth, and fought on; and at last the +section-man suddenly ceased working, and announced +“Here we are. Let up.” With a gasp of relief +Alex dropped to a sitting position on the side of the +car. +</p> +<p>“There it comes,” said the foreman a moment after, +and listening Alex heard a sound as of distant thunder. +</p> +<p>“How long before they’ll be here?” +</p> +<p>“Five minutes, perhaps. And now,” said the section-boss, +“just how are we going to work this +thing?” +</p> +<p>“Well, when we boarded the engine at Bixton,” +explained Alex, getting his breath, “we simply waited +at the head of a grade until it was within about two +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +hundred yards of us, then lit out just as hard as we +could go, and as she bumped us, we jumped.” +</p> +<p>“All right. We’ll do the same.” +</p> +<p>As the foreman spoke, the rain, which had decreased +to a drizzle, entirely ceased, and a moment after the +moon appeared. He and Alex at once turned toward +the station. +</p> +<p>Just beyond was a long, black, snake-like object, +shooting along the rails toward them. +</p> +<p>The runaway! +</p> +<p>On it swept over the glistening irons, the rumble +quickly increasing to a roar. With an echoing crash +it flashed by the station, and on. +</p> +<p>Nearer it came, the cars leaping and writhing; +roaring, pounding, screeching. +</p> +<p>“Ready!” warned the foreman, springing to the +ground behind the hand-car. Alex joined him, and +gazing over their shoulder, watching, they braced +themselves for the shove. +</p> +<p>The runaways reached the incline, and swept on upward. +Anxiously the two watched as they waited. +Would the incline check them? +</p> +<p>“I don’t see that they’re slowing,” Alex said somewhat +nervously. +</p> +<p>“It won’t tell until they are half way up the grade,” +declared the section-man. “But, get ready. We +can’t wait to see. +</p> +<p>“Go!” he cried. Running the car forward, they +leaped aboard, and again were pumping with all their +might. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +<a name='linki_17' id='linki_17'></a> +<img src='images/illus-157.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE ENGINEER STEPPED DOWN FROM HIS CAB TO GRASP ALEX’S<br /> +HAND. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></div> +<p>For a few moments the roar behind them seemed +to decrease. Then suddenly it broke on them afresh, +and the head of the train swept over the rise. +</p> +<p>“Now pull yourself together for an extra spurt +when I give the word,” shouted the foreman, who +manned the forward handles, and faced the rear, +“then turn about and get ready to jump.” +</p> +<p>Roaring, screaming, clanking, the runaways thundered +down upon them. +</p> +<p>“Hit it up!” cried the section-man. With every +muscle tense they whirled the handles up and down +like human engines. +</p> +<p>“Let go! Turn about!” +</p> +<p>Alex sprang back from the flying handles, and faced +about. The foreman edged by them, and joined him. +</p> +<p>Nearer, towering over them, rushed the leading ore +car. +</p> +<p>“Be sure and jump high and grab hard,” shouted +the foreman. +</p> +<p>“Ready! <i>Jump</i>!” +</p> +<p>With a bound they went into the air, and the great +car flung itself at them. Both reached the top of the +end-board with their outstretched hands, and gripped +tenaciously. As they swung against it, it seemed the +car would shake them off. But clinging desperately, +they got their feet on the brake-beam, and in another +moment had tumbled headlong within. +</p> +<p>Alex sank down on the rough ore in a heap, gasping. +The seasoned section-man, however, was on his +feet and at the nearby hand-brake in a twinkle. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +Tightening it, he scrambled back over the bounding +car to the next. +</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, screeching and groaning as +though in protest, the runaways came to a final stop. +</p> +<p>Another ten minutes, and the engineer of the Accommodation +suddenly threw on his air as he rounded +a curve to discover a lantern swinging across the rails +ahead of him. +</p> +<p>“Hello there, Jerry! Say, you’re not good enough +for a passenger run,” said the section foreman humorously +as he approached the astonished engineer. +“We’re going to put you back pushing ore cars. +There’s a string here just ahead of you.” +</p> +<p>When he had explained the engineer stepped down +from his cab to grasp Alex’s hand. “Oh, it was more +the foreman than I,” Alex declared. “I couldn’t +have worked it alone.” +</p> +<p>A moment later the superintendent appeared. +“Why, let me see,” he exclaimed on seeing Alex. +“Are you not the lad I helped fix up an emergency +battery at Watson Siding last spring? And who has +been responsible for two or three other similar clever +affairs? +</p> +<p>“My boy, young as you are, my name’s not Cameron +if I don’t see that you have a try-out at the division +office before the month is out,” he announced +decisively. “We need men there with a head like +yours.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +<a name='linki_18' id='linki_18'></a> +<img src='images/illus-162.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE WAIT WAS NOT LONG. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_THE_HAUNTED_STATION' id='XI_THE_HAUNTED_STATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +<h2>XI</h2> +<h3>THE HAUNTED STATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>True to the division superintendent’s promise, +a month following the incident of the runaway +ore train, Alex was transferred to the despatching +office at Exeter. It was the superintendent himself +who on the evening of his arrival presented him for +duty to the chief night despatcher; and a few minutes +later, having been initiated into the mysteries of directing +and recording the movements of trains, Alex +was shown to his wire. +</p> +<p>“It is a short line—only as far as the Midway +freight junction,” the chief explained; “but if you +make good here, you will soon be given something +bigger. +</p> +<p>“And, by the way, take your time in sending to +the operator at the Junction,” he added. “He’s a +rather poor receiver, but was the only man we could +get to go there, on account of that so-called ‘haunting’ +business.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, has the ‘ghost’ appeared there again?” inquired +Alex with interest. For the “haunting” of +the Midway Junction station had been a subject of +much discussion on the main-line wire a few weeks +back. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p> +<p>“Yes, two nights ago. And like the four men there +before him, the night man left next morning. It is +a strange affair. But I think the man there now will +stick.” +</p> +<p>At midnight Alex called Midway Junction, and +sent the order starting north the last freight for the +night. Fifteen minutes later the operator at MJ suddenly +called, and clicked, “That ‘Thing’ is here +again. It’s walking up and down the platform just +outside. +</p> +<p>“There it is now!” he sent excitedly. “And twice +I’ve jumped out, and the moment I opened the door +it was gone! +</p> +<p>“There it is again! +</p> +<p>“Now it’s on the roof!” he announced a few +moments after. “Rolling something down—just +like the other chaps said! Gee, I’m no coward, but +this thing is getting my nerve.” +</p> +<p>Though himself now considerably excited, Alex +sought to reassure the MJ man. “But you know +there must be some simple explanation to it,” he sent. +“No one really believes in ghosts these days. Just +don’t allow yourself to be frightened.” +</p> +<p>“Yes, I know,” ticked the sounder. “That’s what +I told myself before I came. It seems vastly different, +though, right here on the spot, and all by yourself, +and it dark as pitch outside. If there was only someone +else—” +</p> +<p>The wire abruptly closed, a moment remained so, +then suddenly opened, and in signals so excitedly +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +made that Alex could only guess at some of them, +he read: “Did you hear that? Did you get that?” +</p> +<p>“Hear what? The wire was closed to me.” +</p> +<p>“Clooossclosd! Goed 6eavns! Whiiieeeeee +Whyyy—” By an effort the frightened operator at +the other end of the wire pulled himself together, and +sent more plainly: +</p> +<p>“When I stopped that time someone broke in here +and said: ‘Ha ha! Hi hi! Look behind! Look +beh—’” +</p> +<p>Again the wire closed, again opened. +</p> +<p>“Theeeereit waaawas again!” +</p> +<p>Alex called the chief. “Mr. Allen, that ‘ghost,’ or +whatever it is—” +</p> +<p>Once more the instruments broke out in an almost +inarticulate whirr, and with difficulty together they +picked out the words: “... sounds in the next room ... yelling +and groaning just other side partition ... whispering +at me through a knot-hole ... an eye looking at me ... stand it any longer ... right +now! G. B. (Good-by)!” +</p> +<p>Grasping the key, the chief sent quickly, “Look +here! Wait a moment! You there?” +</p> +<p>There was no response. Again he called, and gave +it up. “No use. He’s off like the rest of them. +Well, I’m not sure I blame him. There must be +something wrong. But it beats me!” +</p> +<p>As he was about to move away the chief turned +back and handed Alex a letter. “I overlooked giving +it to you when you came in,” he explained. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>“From Jack Orr!” said Alex with pleasure. A +moment later he uttered a second exclamation, again +read a paragraph, and with a delighted “The very +thing!” hastened after the chief. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Allen, this letter is from a friend of mine, +a first class commercial operator, who wants to get +into railroad telegraphing, and who would be just the +man to send to MJ. +</p> +<p>“He is a regular amateur detective, and has all +kinds of pluck,” Alex went on, and in a few words +recounted Jack’s clearing up of the cash-box mystery +at Hammerton, the part he played in the breaking up +of the band of Black-Handers, and his resourcefulness +when the wires were cut at Oakton. +</p> +<p>The chief smiled and reached for a message blank. +“Thank you, Ward,” he said. “That’s the man we +want exactly. How soon can he come?” +</p> +<p>“He says he could take a place with us right away, +sir.” +</p> +<p>“Good. We’ll have him there if possible to-morrow +evening,” decided the chief, writing. +</p> +<p>Needless to say Jack was delighted when early +the following morning at Hammerton he received +the telegraphed appointment to the station at +Midway. At once resigning at the Hammerton +commercial office, he hurried home, by noon was +on the train, and arrived at Midway Junction at 7 +o’clock. +</p> +<p>Entering the telegraph room, he called Exeter. +“Well, here I am, Al,” he ticked, when Alex himself +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +responded. “And I’m ever so much obliged to you, +old boy, for getting me the position.” +</p> +<p>“Don’t mention it. And anyway,” responded Alex, +“you had better save your thanks until you learn just +what you are up against there. I didn’t have time to +write—but the former man left last night, simply on +the run.” And continuing, Alex explained. +</p> +<p>“So you see, you were called in as a sort of expert.” +</p> +<p>“Hi,” laughed Jack. “Well, I’ll do the best I +can. But probably the ‘ghost’ won’t show up again +now for a month or so?” +</p> +<p>“On the contrary, it is more likely to return soon,” +clicked Alex. “That has been the way every time +so far—three or four appearances in succession. So +you had better prepare for business at once.” +</p> +<p>Alex’s prediction was realized two nights later. A +few minutes after the last freight had gone north, and +Jack had been left entirely alone in the big station, he +heard light footfalls outside on the platform. Going +to the window, he peered out into the darkness, and +seeing nothing, turned to the door. As he opened +it the footsteps ceased. +</p> +<p>Surprised, Jack returned and secured a lantern, and +passed out and down the long platform. From end +to end it was deserted and silent. +</p> +<p>He returned to the office. Scarcely had he closed +the door when again came the sound of footsteps. +</p> +<p>Jack paused and listened. They were light and +quick, like those of a woman—up and down, up and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +down, now pausing a moment, now briskly resuming, +as though the walker was anxiously waiting for someone. +</p> +<p>On tiptoe Jack went back to the door, suddenly +flung it open and flashed the lantern. As quickly the +steps had ceased. Not a moving object was to be +seen. +</p> +<p>Immensely puzzled, Jack withdrew, and stepped to +the instrument table. As he reached toward the telegraph +key from almost directly overhead broke out a +thundering rumble, as of a heavy wooden ball bounding +down the roof. +</p> +<p>Catching up the lantern, he once more rushed forth. +Immediately, as before, all was silence. Nervous at +last, in spite of himself, Jack hesitated, then resolutely +set forth on a complete round of the station and +freight shed, throwing the lantern light upon the roof, +through the dusty windows, and into every nook and +corner. Nowhere was there a sign of life. +</p> +<p>He returned. The moment he closed the office door +the rumble broke out afresh. +</p> +<p>Jack sprang to the instruments, called Exeter, and +sent rapidly, “Al, that ‘ghost’ is here, and in spite +of me, is beginning to get on my—” +</p> +<p>The line opened, then sharply clicked: “Look behind! +Look behind!” +</p> +<p>With a cry Jack was on his feet, and had started +for the door. Half way he pulled up, with a determined +effort controlled his panic, and returned to the +key. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +“I suppose you didn’t hear that, Al?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Not a letter.” +</p> +<p>“Well, good gracious, what—<i>Oh!</i>” +</p> +<p>A cold chill shot up Jack’s back. The cause was a +low, long-drawn moan, apparently from just the other +side of the wooden partition, in the freight room. +Again it came, then suddenly ceased to give place to +a low, tense whispering immediately behind him. +Jack sprang about, and leaped to his feet. Within +touch of him was a large knot-hole. +</p> +<p>And was there not an eye at it? Peering at him? +</p> +<p>He sprang toward it. +</p> +<p>No! Nothing! The whispering, too, had ceased. +</p> +<p>Thoroughly shaken, Jack again turned for his hat—and +again faltered between the chair and the door. +</p> +<p>“You there, Jack?” clicked Alex. “Hang on, old +boy. Keep your nerve.” +</p> +<p>Clenching his teeth and gripping his hands Jack +regained control of himself, and returned to the instruments. +“Thanks, Al,” he sent. “I was about +all in, sure enough. But I am OK again now, and +going to stick it out unless ‘they,’ or ‘it,’ or whatever +it is, lugs me off bodily.” +</p> +<p>“That’s the talk,” said Alex encouragingly. “I +knew you’d make good. Just keep on telling yourself +there must be some natural explanation somehow, +and you’ll win out OK.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“Yes, that’s my cue—‘a natural explanation +somehow,’” Jack repeated to himself the following +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +afternoon as he left the big railroad boarding-house, +a half mile from the station, and set out for a walk, +to think things over. +</p> +<p>“And I believe the starting point is that talk on the +wire. That certainly is the work of an operator. +</p> +<p>“Now, why is it heard only at this office? +</p> +<p>“Say! Could it be on the loop? A cut-off arrangement +on the station loop? +</p> +<p>“I’ll go down and look into that right now,” declared +Jack, and turning about, headed for the station. +</p> +<p>The platforms and the big freight shed were alive +with the bustle of the freight handlers, loading and +unloading cars, trundling boxes and bales from one +part of the platform to another and in and out of the +big shed; and unnoticed, Jack discovered where the +wires from the pole passed in under the roof. Entering +the shed, he proceeded carefully to follow their +course along the beams toward the telegraph room. +He had almost reached the partition, and was beginning +to think his conclusion perhaps too hastily drawn, +when a few feet from the wall, where the light from +an opposite window struck the roof, he caught two +unmistakable gleams of copper. With a suppressed +cry he made his way directly beneath, and at once saw +that the insulation of both wires of the loop had been +cut through. +</p> +<p>“Right! I was right!” exclaimed Jack jubilantly +beneath his breath. “And I can see in a minute how +it’s done. Whoever it is, simply gets up there somehow, +and ticks one wire against the other—and of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +course the instruments inside click as they are alternately +cut off and cut on, and the rest of the line is +not affected! +</p> +<p>“Good! I’m on the trail. +</p> +<p>“But what can be the object of it all?” +</p> +<p>Jack turned to look about him, and as in answer the +lettering of a nearby box caught his eye: +</p> +<p>“VALUABLE! HANDLE WITH CARE!” +</p> +<p>“Freight stealing! Could that be it?” +</p> +<p>On reporting for duty that evening Jack called Alex +on the wire and asked if any freight had recently been +reported missing from the Midway depot. +</p> +<p>“No, but I understand some valuable stuff has been +mysteriously disappearing at Claxton and Eastfield,” +was the reply. +</p> +<p>Jack was considerably disappointed; but before +giving up this line of investigation he determined to +study the freight records of the station, to discover +whether any freight for the two places mentioned by +Alex had passed through Midway. A few minutes’ +search produced the record of a valuable shipment +of silk to Claxton. A moment later he found another. +</p> +<p>When presently he found still others, and several to +Eastfield, he hurried back to the wire and calling Alex +asked the nature of the goods lost track of at those +stations, and breathlessly awaited the reply. +</p> +<p>“I’ll ask,” said Alex—“Silverware and silk. +Mostly silk.” +</p> +<p>Jack uttered a shout. “Hurrah, Alex,” he whirred, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +“I’m on the track of our friend the ‘ghost.’ But +keep mum. +</p> +<p>“And now the question is,” he told himself, leaning +back in his chair, “how do they work it?” +</p> +<p>The answer to the query came very unexpectedly as +Jack left the station office at daybreak. Strolling +down the front platform, where several men already +were at work unloading a car, he inadvertently got in +the way of a loaded truck. On the sudden cry of the +truckman he sprang aside, tripped, and fell headlong +against a large, square packing-case. As he did so, +he distinctly heard from within a sharp “Oh!” +</p> +<p>Only with difficulty did Jack avoid crying out, and +scrambling to his feet, hastened away, that his discovery +might not be suspected by the man in the +box. +</p> +<p>The whole mystery was now clear. The “ghost” +was a freight thief, who had himself shipped, in a +box, to some point which would necessitate his being +transferred and held over night at the freight junction. +He played “ghost” either to frighten the operator +away, or to lead to the belief that any noises overheard +were caused by “spirits,” then overhauled the +valuable freight in the shed, took what he wanted with +him into his own box (which supposedly he could open +and close from the inside), and was shipped away with +it the following morning. The rifled packages, carefully +re-sealed, also went on to their several destinations, +and the blame of the theft was laid elsewhere. +</p> +<p>Jack was not long in deciding upon his next move. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +Coming down from the boarding-house before the +sheds had been closed that afternoon, he noted where +the box containing the unsuspected human freight had +been placed, and selecting a window at the far end of +the shed, seized a favorable moment to quietly loosen +its catch. +</p> +<p>It was near midnight, and Jack was once more the +sole guardian of the station when he took the next +step. And despite a certain nervousness, now that the +exciting moment was at hand, he found considerable +amusement in carrying it out. +</p> +<p>It was nothing less than making up a dummy imitation +of himself asleep on a cot in a corner of +the telegraph room—as a precaution against the +“ghost” peering within to learn the effect of his +“haunting.” +</p> +<p>In making the dummy Jack used a brown fur cap +for the head, a glimpse of which under an old hat +looked remarkably like his own brown head. A collection +of old overalls and record books carefully arranged +formed the body, and his own shoes the feet. +</p> +<p>When over the whole he threw his overcoat, the +deception was complete. Chuckling at the subterfuge, +Jack lost no time in slipping forth for the next step +in his program. +</p> +<p>Tiptoeing down the platform to the window whose +latch he had loosened, he softly raised it, listened, and +climbing through, dropped noiselessly to the floor. +Feeling his way in the darkness amid the bales and +boxes, he reached a nook behind a piano-case he had +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +previously noted, and settling down, prepared to await +the appearance of the “spectre.” +</p> +<p>The wait was not long. Scarcely had he made himself +comfortable when from the direction of the big +packing-case came the muffled sound of a screw-driver. +Soon there followed a noise as of a board being softly +shoved aside, then a step on the floor. Simultaneously +there was the crackle of a match, and peering forth +Jack momentarily made out a thin, clean-shaven face +bending over a dark-lantern. But quickly he drew +back with a start of fright as the man turned and +came directly toward him. +</p> +<p>A few feet away, however, the intruder halted, and +again peering cautiously forth Jack discovered the lantern, +closely muffled, on the floor, and beside it the dim +figure of the man working with his hands at a plank. +As Jack watched, wondering, the plank came up. +Laying it aside carefully, the stranger stepped down +into the opening, recovered the lantern, and disappeared. +</p> +<p>“Now what under the sun is he up to?” exclaimed +Jack to himself. +</p> +<p>From the platform outside came the sound of footsteps. +Jack started, listened a moment, and uttered a +low cry of triumph. At last he understood. +</p> +<p>“Well, what a dolt I am,” he laughed. “Why +didn’t I think of that? +</p> +<p>“The fellow is simply out beneath the platform, +making sounds against the under side of the planking—probably +with a stick!” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +<a name='linki_19' id='linki_19'></a> +<img src='images/illus-176.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +JACK MADE OUT A THIN, CLEAN-SHAVEN FACE BENDING OVER<br /> +A DARK-LANTERN. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></div> +<p>Jack was still chuckling delightedly over this simple +explanation of the mysterious “walking” when the +noise ceased, and the light of the lantern returned. +</p> +<p>On reappearing, the unknown dragged after him a +long pole. As Jack watched, puzzling over its use, +the “spectre” hoisted the pole to his shoulder, cautiously +picked his way amid the freight to the telegraph-room +partition, and mounted a large box. +</p> +<p>And then, while Jack fairly shook with internal +laughter, he laboriously raised the pole, and began +bumping and scraping it up and down the under side +of the roof. +</p> +<p>“Natural explanations!” bubbled Jack through his +handkerchief. “And imagine anyone being frightened +at it—beating it for home!” +</p> +<p>When the man on the box had concluded his second +“demonstration,” and descended, Jack had cause to +thank himself for his precaution in leaving the dummy. +Evidently puzzled at the silence in the operating-room, +the man placed his eye to the knot-hole in the partition, +and peered through. Muttering something in +surprise, he listened closely, and looked again, while +Jack looked on, shaking, and holding his mouth. Apparently +at last satisfied that the “operator” within +was asleep at his post, the intruder turned about and +threw a shaft of light up toward the wires of the loop. +Expectantly Jack waited. Had he also guessed right +here? +</p> +<p>But to his disappointment, after a brief debate with +himself, the “ghost” muttered, “If he’s asleep, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +what’s the use?” And catching up the pole, he returned +it to the hole in the floor, and replaced the +plank. +</p> +<p>Then, in final confirmation of Jack’s deductions, +the intruder turned his attention to the packages of +merchandise about him, speedily selected a box, and +proceeded to open it. +</p> +<p>For several hours the unsuspecting freight robber +worked, frequently returning to the crack in the partition +to assure himself that the negligent “operator” +there was still in the land of dreams, each time to +Jack’s great amusement. And finally, having secured +all the booty he could handle, and having carefully +closed the cases from which it had been taken, he +moved the plunder into his own box, crept in after; +again came the squeak of the screw-driver—and the +robbery was complete. +</p> +<p>At once Jack crept from his place of concealment, +and back to the window; dropped out, and was off +on the run for the boarding-house. And twenty +minutes after he returned with the freight-house +foreman and several freight hands, armed, and with +lanterns. +</p> +<p>Entering by the door, he led them directly to the +robber’s box. +</p> +<p>Sharply the foreman kicked at it, and called, +“Hello, in there! Your little game is up, my friend! +Come out!” +</p> +<p>There was no response, and he drew his revolver. +“Open up quick, or I’ll shoot!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>“Oh, all right! All right!” cried a muffled voice +hurriedly. +</p> +<p>The next moment the Midway Junction “ghost” +stepped grimly from his box, and stood before them. +</p> +<p>“But look here, youngster,” ticked the chief despatcher, +who some minutes later followed Alex Ward +on the wire in congratulating Jack on the solution of +the mystery, “don’t you talk too much about this +business, or first thing you know they’ll be taking +you from the telegraph force, and adding you to the +detective department. We want you ourselves.” +</p> +<p>“No fear,” laughed Jack. “I might try a matter +like this once in a while, but I want to work up as +an operator, not a detective.” +</p> +<p>“You’ll work up OK,” declared the chief. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_IN_A_BAD_FIX_AND_OUT' id='XII_IN_A_BAD_FIX_AND_OUT'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +<h2>XII</h2> +<h3>IN A BAD FIX, AND OUT</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Good evening, young man!” +</p> +<p>With a start Jack turned toward the quietly +opened door of the telegraph-room to discover a short, +dark, heavily-bearded man, over whose eyes was pulled +a soft gray hat. +</p> +<p>“I suppose you don’t have many visitors at the station +at this time of night?” said the stranger, entering. +</p> +<p>“No; but you are quite welcome. Have a chair,” +responded Jack courteously. +</p> +<p>To the young operator’s surprise, the stranger drew +the chair immediately before him, and seating himself, +leaned forward secretively. “My name is +Watts,” he began, in a low voice, “and I’ve come on +business. For you are the lad who worked out that +‘ghost’ mystery here, and caused the capture of the +freight robber, aren’t you?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” confirmed Jack, in further wonder. +</p> +<p>“I thought so. I thought as much. I know a +clever lad when I see one. And that was one of the +cleverest bits of detective work I ever heard of,” declared +Mr. Watts, with a winning smile. “If the +railroad detectives had done their work as well, the +whole freight-stealing gang would have been landed. +As it was none of the rest were caught, were they?” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +<a name='linki_20' id='linki_20'></a> +<img src='images/illus-181.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE STRANGER DREW THE CHAIR IMMEDIATELY BEFORE HIM,<br /> +AND SEATING HIMSELF, LEANED FORWARD SECRETIVELY. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></div> +<p>Instead of being pleased, the man’s flattery and ingratiating +manner had ruffled Jack, and briefly he +answered, “No, sir.” +</p> +<p>“No. I knew that already. I was one of them +myself.” +</p> +<p>At this startling statement Jack stared. “I beg +your pardon, sir?” he exclaimed. +</p> +<p>“I was a member of that gang myself,” repeated +Jack’s strange caller, again smiling broadly. “Don’t +you think I look the part?” So saying, he pushed his +hat back from his face. +</p> +<p>Jack had no doubt of it. The small dark eyes were +repellent with low cunning and greed. Instinctively +he half turned to cast a glance toward the door. At +once the smile disappeared, and the self-confessed +law-breaker threw open his coat and significantly +tapped the butt of a revolver. “No. You just sit +still and listen,” he ordered sharply; but immediately +again smiling, added, “though there needn’t be anything +of this kind between two who are going to be +good friends. +</p> +<p>“Listen. What I called for was this: We want +another man in the gang in place of Joe Corry—that +is the man you caught. +</p> +<p>“And we decided to invite you.” +</p> +<p>Jack fairly caught his breath. “Why, you must be +joking, or—” +</p> +<p>“Or crazy, eh? Not quite. I was never more +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +serious in my life. Listen!” The speaker leaned +forward earnestly. “After your spoiling our little +‘ghost’ game here the railroad people would never +look for us starting in again at the same place. Never +in the world—would they? And likewise, after your +causing the capture of Corry, they would never in the +world suspect you of working with us. Do you see +the point? +</p> +<p>“And all you would have to do would be to keep +your ears closed, and not hear any noises out in the +freight-room at night.” +</p> +<p>“And for doing that,” concluded the law-breaker, +“we will give you a regular salary of $25 a month. +We’ll send it by mail, or bank it for you at any bank +you name, and no one will know where it comes from. +</p> +<p>“What do you say?” +</p> +<p>Jack drew back indignantly. “Most certainly not,” +he began. Then suddenly he hesitated. +</p> +<p>As the freight-robber had said, the authorities had +been unable to obtain a single clue to the whereabouts +or identity of the remainder of the freight-stealing +gang. Should he accept the man’s offer, came the +thought, undoubtedly, sooner or later, he would be able +to bring about the capture of every one of them. +</p> +<p>Immediately following, however, there recurred to +Jack one of his mother’s warnings—“that even the +appearance of evil is dangerous, always, as well as +wrong.” +</p> +<p>But this would be quite different, Jack argued to +himself—to cause the capture of criminals. And +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +what possible danger could there be in it? No one +would believe for an instant that I would go into such +a thing seriously, he told himself. +</p> +<p>“All right, Mr. Watts,” he said aloud. “I’ll do +it.” +</p> +<p>“Good! It’s a go!” The freight-stealer spoke +with satisfaction, and rising, grasped Jack’s hand. “I +told you I knew a clever boy when I saw one—and +that means a wise one. +</p> +<p>“Well, that’s all there is to it, excepting the money +matter. Where will we send that? Here?” +</p> +<p>Jack responded with an effort. “Yes, you may as +well send it to me here.” +</p> +<p>“All right. Look for it at the end of the month,” +said Watts, proceeding to the door. +</p> +<p>“Remember, you are dumb. That’s all. Good +night.” +</p> +<p>Jack’s sense of honor was not long in convincing +him that he had made a mistake in entering into such +a bargain, even with a law-breaker. A dozen times +during the days that followed he would have given +anything to have been able to wipe out the agreement. +</p> +<p>Unhappily this dissatisfaction with himself was to +prove but a minor result of the misstep. +</p> +<p>Shortly after he had relieved the day operator at +the station a week later he was surprised by the appearance +of one of the road detectives, and with him a +stranger. +</p> +<p>“Good evening, Orr,” said the detective in a peculiar +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +tone. “Let me make you acquainted with Sheriff +Bates.” +</p> +<p>Jack started, and glanced from one to the other. +“Is there anything wrong?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Very slightly. Your little game is up, that’s all. +Your older partner has given the thing away, and we +have just found the watch in your room at the boarding-house,” +announced the detective. +</p> +<p>“Given the thing away? The watch? Why, what +do you mean?” exclaimed Jack in alarm. +</p> +<p>“Oh, come! Watts has squealed, and we found the +watch hidden, just as he said, in the mattress of your +bed up at the house.” +</p> +<p>In a flash Jack saw it all. Watts’ offer had been a +trap! A mere trap to get him into trouble, probably +in revenge! +</p> +<p>He sprang to his feet. “It’s not true! It’s false! +Whatever it is, it’s false! I did see Watts, and he +asked me to go in with them, but I only agreed so as +to learn who they were, so we could capture them!” +</p> +<p>To his utter dismay the two officers only laughed +drily. +</p> +<p>“No, no! That’s quite too thin,” declared the +detective. “Read this.” +</p> +<p>Blankly Jack took the letter, and read: +</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Chief Detective, +</p> +<p>“Middle Western R. R. +</p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Sir:</span> The young night operator at Midway +Junction has joined the freight-stealing gang that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +Corry belonged to, and if you will look under the mattress +in his room at the railroad boarding-house you +will find a watch and chain of the lot we stole at Claxton +two weeks ago. I gave it to him last Friday +night. I came to Midway by the Eastfield freight, +and when I saw another operator in the station office, +I started up towards the boarding-house, and met Orr +coming down. I mention this to show my story is +all straight. +</p> +<p>“I heard he was going to give us away as soon +as he had got enough loot himself, and claim he only +went in with us to get us. That is why I am showing +him up. +</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style='text-align: right; '>“Yours truly,</p> +<p style='text-align: right; '>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>W. Watts.</span>”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>And the day operator <i>had</i> worked for him that +Friday evening, while he was at the landlady’s daughter’s +birthday party! And he <i>had</i> come down to the +station at about the time the Eastfield night freight +came in! +</p> +<p>Jack sank back in the chair, completely crushed. +</p> +<p>“Changed your mind, eh?” remarked the sheriff +sarcastically. +</p> +<p>Jack shook his head, but said nothing. What +could he say! +</p> +<p>“If it’s ‘false,’ as you claim, how do you explain +our finding the watch in your room?” demanded the +detective. +</p> +<p>“I don’t know. Someone must have put it there.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></p> +<p>“Very likely. It wouldn’t have crept up stairs and +got under the bed itself. And I suppose you will deny +also that you saw Watts on the night of the party, +despite the fact that he could not otherwise have +known the unusual hour you came down to the station +that night. Eh?” +</p> +<p>“I never saw him after the night he called here,” +affirmed Jack earnestly, but hopelessly. +</p> +<p>“Well, you will have to prove it,” declared the +sheriff. And to Jack’s unspeakable horror he was +informed he must be taken into custody. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Needless to say, the news of Jack’s arrest, and of his +early trial at Eastfield, the county seat, came as a +tremendous shock to Alex, at Exeter. Of course he +thoroughly disbelieved in Jack’s guilt, despite the net +of circumstantial evidence which, according to the +newspapers, had been woven about his friend; and +morning and afternoon he read and re-read the papers, +in the hope of something more favorable to Jack developing. +</p> +<p>It was through this close reading that Alex finally +came upon the discovery that was to draw him into the +case himself, and to have so important a bearing on +the outcome of the trial. +</p> +<p>Early in the evening preceding the day set for the +hearing, Alex, before starting work on his wire, was +studying the paper as usual. For the second time he +was reading the letter from the man Watts that had +had such serious results for Jack. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p> +<p>Suddenly as he read Alex started, again read a portion +of the letter, a moment thought deeply, and with +a cry sprang to his feet and hastened to the chief +despatcher’s desk. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Allen,” he said excitedly, “in this letter Watts +says he reached Midway Junction that Friday night +by the Eastfield freight, and that he met and gave +Jack Orr the watch after that. +</p> +<p>“Now I remember distinctly that it was Jack reported +the arrival of the Eastfield freight that night. +She was twenty minutes late, and I recall asking if +she was in sight yet, and his reply that she had just +whistled. +</p> +<p>“That means Jack was back at the station before +the time at which Watts claims he met him!” +</p> +<p>“Ward, why in the world didn’t you think of +this before?” the chief exclaimed. “It is the +most important piece of evidence your friend could +have. +</p> +<p>“Call Eastfield right away on the long-distance, and +get Orr’s lawyer, and tell him.” +</p> +<p>Alex hastily did so, and a few minutes after he +heard the lawyer’s voice from the distant town, and +quickly told his story. +</p> +<p>To his surprise the lawyer for a moment remained +silent, then said slowly, “Of course I would like to +believe that. In fact it would make an invaluable piece +of evidence—practically conclusive. +</p> +<p>“But really now, how could you be sure it was Orr +you heard? What possible difference can there be +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +between the ticks made over a telegraph wire by one +distant operator, and those made by another?” +</p> +<p>“Why, all the difference in the world, sometimes, +sir,” declared Jack. “Any operator would tell you +that. I would recognize Jack Orr’s sending anywhere +I heard it.” +</p> +<p>But the lawyer at the other end was still incredulous. +“Well,” he said at last, “if the jury was made up of +telegraph operators, perhaps your claim might go. +As it is, however—” +</p> +<p>“Say, I have it!” cried Alex. “Let me give a +demonstration right there in court of my ability to +identify the sending of as many different operators +as we can get together, including Jack Orr. Could +you arrange that?” +</p> +<p>The lawyer was interested at last. “But could you +really do it? Are you really that sure?” +</p> +<p>“I am absolutely positive,” declared Alex. +</p> +<p>“Then you come right ahead,” was the decisive +response. “Come down here by the first train in the +morning, and bring two or three other operators, and +the necessary instruments. +</p> +<p>“And if you can prove what you claim, I’ll guarantee +that your friend is clear.” +</p> +<p>“Hurrah! Then he is clear!” cried Alex joyously. +</p> +<p>Accompanied by three other operators from the +Exeter office, and with a set of telegraph instruments +and a convenient dry-battery, Alex reached the court-room +at Eastfield at 10 o’clock the following morning. +</p> +<p>The trial, which had attracted a crowd that packed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +the building to its capacity, already had neared its +conclusion. Jack’s demeanor, and that of his father, +who was beside him, quickly informed Alex that matters +were looking serious for his chum. Confidently +he waited, however, and at last the court clerk arose +and called his name. +</p> +<p>The preliminary questions were passed, and Jack’s +attorney at once proceeded. “Now Alex,” he said, +“this letter here, which has been put in evidence, declares +that the writer, Watts, went to Midway Junction +by the Eastfield freight on the Friday night in +question, and that he then met the defendant coming +down to the station from his boarding-house, and gave +him the watch. +</p> +<p>“Have you anything to say to this?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Jack Orr was at the telegraph instruments +in the Midway Junction station several minutes +before the Eastfield freight reached there that night. +It was he who reported her coming over the wire to +me at Exeter.” +</p> +<p>The lawyer for the prosecution looked up with surprise, +then smiled in amusement, while Jack and his +father started, and exchanged glances of new hope. +</p> +<p>“You are positive it was the defendant you heard +over the wire?” asked Mr. Brown. +</p> +<p>“Positive, sir.” +</p> +<p>“If necessary could you give a demonstration here +in court of your ability to identify the defendant’s +transmitting on a telegraph instrument?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I could.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p> +<p>When the lawyer for the other side arose to cross-examine +Alex he smiled somewhat derisively. +</p> +<p>“You are a friend of the defendant, are you not?” +he asked significantly. +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir; and so know his sending over the wire +unusually well,” responded Alex, cleverly turning the +point of the question. +</p> +<p>The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and put the +next question with sarcasm. “And, now, do you mean +to stand there and tell this court that the clicks—the +purely mechanical clicks—made over a telegraph +wire by an operator miles away will sound different +to the clicks made by any other operator?” +</p> +<p>“I do,” said Alex quietly. “And I am ready to +demonstrate it.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, you are, are you? And how, pray?” +</p> +<p>“Three other operators from the Exeter office are +in the court-room, with a set of instruments and a +battery. Let them place the instruments on the table +down there; blindfold me, then have them and Jack +Orr by turns write something on the key. I’ll identify +every one of them before he sends a half-dozen +words.” +</p> +<p>A wave of surprise, then smiles of incredulity passed +over the crowded room. +</p> +<p>“Very well,” agreed the lawyer readily. “Set up +the instruments.” +</p> +<p>The three Exeter operators came forward, and the +prosecutor, producing a handkerchief, himself stepped +into the witness-box and proceeded to bind Alex’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +eyes. That done, to make doubly sure, he turned +Alex face to the wall. +</p> +<p>When the lawyer returned to the counsel-table the +proceedings were momentarily interrupted by a whispered +consultation with his assistant, at the end of +which, while the spectators wondered, the latter hastened +from the room. +</p> +<p>Curiosity as to the junior counsel’s mission was +quickly forgotten, however, as the prosecutor then +called Jack Orr to the table beside the telegraph instruments, +and stood Jack and the three Exeter operators +in a row before him. +</p> +<p>“Now,” said he in a low voice, “each of you, as +I touch you, step quietly to the key, and send these +words: ‘Do you know who this is?’” +</p> +<p>A moment the lawyer paused, while spectators, +judge and jury waited in breathless silence, then +reaching out, he lightly touched one of the Exeter +men. +</p> +<p>“Do you know who this is?” clicked the sounder. +</p> +<p>All eyes turned toward Alex. Without a moment’s +hesitation he answered, “Johnson.” +</p> +<p>The operator nodded, and a flutter passed over the +court-room. +</p> +<p>“Huh! A guess,” declared the prosecutor audibly, +and still smiling confidently, he touched another of the +Exeter operators. The instruments repeated the question. +</p> +<p>“Bradley,” said Alex promptly. +</p> +<p>The flutter of surprise was repeated. Quickly the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +prosecutor made as though to touch the third Exeter +man, then abruptly again touched Bradley. +</p> +<p>“Bradley again,” said Alex. +</p> +<p>A ripple like applause swept over the crowded room. +With tightening lips the prosecutor turned again +toward the third Exeter operator. At the moment +the door opened, and he paused as his assistant reappeared, +with him two young ladies. +</p> +<p>The newcomers were operators from the local commercial +telegraph office. +</p> +<p>At once Jack’s lawyer, recognizing the prosecution’s +purpose, was on his feet in protest. For of course the +young women were utter strangers to the blindfolded +boy in the witness-stand. +</p> +<p>The judge promptly motioned him down, however, +and with a smile of anticipated triumph the prosecutor +greeted the two local operators, and whispering his instructions +to one of them, led her to the telegraph key. +</p> +<p>In a silence that was painful the sounder once more +rattled out its inquiry, “Do you know who this is?” +</p> +<p>Alex started, hesitated, made as though to speak, +again paused, then suddenly cried, “That’s a stranger! +</p> +<p>“And it’s awfully like the light, jumpy sending of +a girl!” +</p> +<p>A spontaneous cheer broke from the excited spectators. +“Silence! Silence!” shouted the judge. +</p> +<p>It was not necessary to repeat the order, for the disconcerted +prosecutor, whirling about, had grasped +Jack Orr by the arm and thrust him toward the key. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +<a name='linki_21' id='linki_21'></a> +<img src='images/illus-195.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +“AND IT’S AWFULLY LIKE THE LIGHT, JUMPY SENDING OF<br /> +A GIRL!” +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>The final test had come. +</p> +<p>Jack himself realized the significance of the moment, +and for an instant hesitated, trembling. Then determinedly +gripping himself he reached forward, grasped +the key, and sent, +</p> +<p>“Do you know—” +</p> +<p>“Orr! Orr! That’s he!” cried Alex. +</p> +<p>With a shout the entire court-room was on its feet, +women waving their handkerchiefs and men cheering +wildly again and again. And equally disregarding the +etiquette of the court, Alex tore the handkerchief from +his eyes, and leaping down beside Jack, fell to shaking +his hand as though he would never let go, while Jack +vainly sought to express himself, and to keep back the +tears that came to his eyes. +</p> +<p>Ten minutes later, with order restored, Jack was +formally declared “Not guilty,” and with Alex on one +side and his father on the other, left the room, free and +vindicated. +</p> +<p>“Well, good-by, my lad,” said Mr. Orr, as he and +Alex that evening dropped Jack off their returning +train at Midway Junction. “And I suppose it is unnecessary +to warn you against understandings with +such men as Watts in the future, no matter for what +purpose.” +</p> +<p>“Hardly, Dad,” responded Jack earnestly. “No +more agreements of any kind for me unless they are +on the levellest kind of level, no matter who they are +with, or for what purpose.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_PROFESSOR_CLICK_MIND_READER' id='XIII_PROFESSOR_CLICK_MIND_READER'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +<h2>XIII</h2> +<h3>PROFESSOR CLICK, MIND READER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Some months previously Alex and Jack had arranged +to take their two weeks’ vacation at the +same time, and to spend one week at Haddowville, +Jack’s home, and the other at Bixton. +</p> +<p>The long looked-for Monday had at length arrived, +early that morning Jack had joined Alex at Exeter, +and the two boys, aboard the Eastern Mail, were now +well on their way to Haddowville. +</p> +<p>For some minutes Alex’s part in the animated conversation +of the two chums had waned. Presently, +plucking Jack’s sleeve, he quietly directed his companion’s +attention to the double seat across the aisle +of the car. +</p> +<p>“Jack, watch that soldier’s fingers,” he said in a +low voice. “What’s the matter with him?” +</p> +<p>The soldier in question, in the uniform of an infantry +regular, sat facing them, beside a stout elderly +gentleman. Opposite the first soldier was a second, +in a similar uniform; and sharing the seat with the +latter, and facing the old gentleman, was a decidedly +pretty young girl. +</p> +<p>It was the first soldier’s left hand, however, which +attracted the boys’ particular attention. Resting in his +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +lap, and partly concealed by a newspaper, the hand was +so doubled that the thumb stood upright. And this +latter member was bobbing and wagging up and down, +now slowly, now quickly, in most curious fashion. +</p> +<p>“Perhaps it’s St. Vitus’ dance,” ventured Jack. +</p> +<p>“But that affects the whole body, or at least the +whole limb, doesn’t it?” +</p> +<p>Jack, who sat next the window, leaned slightly forward. +“The other soldier is watching him,” he said. +“Maybe the fellow with the wiggling thumb is out +of his mind, and this one is taking him somewhere. +He is watching his hand.” +</p> +<p>Silently the boys continued to regard the curious +proceeding. +</p> +<p>Suddenly the thumb became quiet, there was the +rattle of a paper in the hands of the second soldier, +and in turn his thumb became affected with the wagging. +In a moment the boys understood. +</p> +<p>The two soldiers were army signallers, and were +carrying on a silent conversation, using their thumbs +as they would a flag. +</p> +<p>Jack and Alex looked at one another and laughed +softly. “We’re bright, eh?” Alex remarked. +</p> +<p>“Let us watch when the other starts again—we +can’t see this chap’s hand well enough—and see if we +can’t read it,” suggested Jack. “That one-flag signal +system is based on the telegraph dot and dash code, +you know. And it’s not likely they are speaking of +anything private—only amusing themselves.” +</p> +<p>The paper opposite again covered the first soldier’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +hand, and observing closely, after a few minutes the +boys were able to interpret the strokes of the wagging +thumb with ease. They corresponded precisely to the +strokes of a telegraph sounder, and of course were very +much slower. +</p> +<p>“... not much. I saw her first,” they read. +“You have three girls at K now.... Get out. I’ll +tell Maggie O’Rorke, and she’ll pick your eyes +out.... No, sir. You can have the two old maids +just back of you, and the fat party with the red +hair. That’s your taste anyway.... If you spoke +she’d freeze you so you’d never thaw out.” +</p> +<p>The two boys exchanged glances, and chuckled in +amusement. +</p> +<p>“Say, look at the gaudy nose on that old chap across +the aisle,” went on the wagging thumb. “Talk about +danger signals! They ought to hire him to sit on the +cow-catcher foggy nights.... I wouldn’t like to pay +for all the paint it took to color it.... Plain whiskey, +I guess. You can see what you are coming to if you +don’t look out.... What’s the matter with that baby +back there? Is the woman lynching it, or is it lynching +the woman?... It’s not, either. It’s just like +your high tenor, singing the Soldier’s Farewell. Only +better. More in tune.... Yes, if they knew what +we’d been saying about them there’d be a riot. I +wouldn’t give much for your hair when the two old +ladies behind got through with it.” +</p> +<p>At this point, unable to resist the temptation, Alex +nudged Jack, drew a pencil from his pocket, and slyly +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +tapped on the metal of the seat-arm the two letters of +the telegraph laugh, “Hi!” +</p> +<p>The soldier opposite started, looked quickly over, +caught the two boys’ twinkling eyes, and coloring, +laughed heartily. Promptly then he raised his thumb, +and wagged, “You young rascals! I’ll have you in +the guard-house for stealing military information. +Who are you?” +</p> +<p>Alex replied, using his thumb as he had seen the +soldier do; and the animated exchange of signals +which followed continued until a whistle from the engine +announced a stop, and the soldier wagged, “We +get off here. Good-by.” +</p> +<p>“Glad to have met you,” he said, smiling, as he and +his companion passed them. +</p> +<p>“Glad to have met you,” responded the boys heartily. +“And to have got onto the signalling. It may +come in useful some day,” Alex added. “Good day.” +</p> +<p>“That’s just what I was thinking myself, Al,” declared +Jack. “We must practice it.” +</p> +<p>Following the disappearance of the out-going passengers, +a group of newcomers appeared at the farther +car door. +</p> +<p>“Here comes someone I know,” Jack observed. +“The big man in front—Burke, a real estate agent.” +</p> +<p>The tall, heavy-featured man passed them and took +the seat immediately behind. +</p> +<p>“He didn’t speak to you,” commented Alex. +</p> +<p>“I’m glad he didn’t. He’s no friend; just knew +him, I meant,” responded Jack. “He is a proper +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +shark, they say. I know he practically did a widow +out of a bit of property just back of ours. +</p> +<p>“And here is another, same business, from the next +town. And not much better,” Jack went on, as a +short, bustling, sharp-featured man appeared. +</p> +<p>The man behind them stood up and called, “Hi, +there, Mitchell! Here!” The newcomer waved his +hand, came forward quickly, and also dropped into the +seat at the rear of the two boys. +</p> +<p>“Nice pair of hawks,” said Jack. “I’ll bet they +are hatching up something with a shady side to it. I’d +be tempted to listen if I could.” +</p> +<p>As the train was again under way, Jack had no opportunity +of overhearing what was being said behind +them. A few miles farther, however, they came once +more to a stop, and almost immediately he pricked up +his ears and nudged Alex. +</p> +<p>“... don’t believe the ignorant dolt knows the real +value of butter and eggs.” It was the deep voice of +the bigger man, Burke. “He’s one of those queer +ducks, without any friends. Lives there all by himself, +doesn’t read the papers, and only comes to town +about once a month. No; there’s not one chance in +ten of his waking up and getting onto it.” +</p> +<p>“You always were a lucky dog,” declared the other. +“If you land it you ought to clear fifty thousand inside +of five years.” +</p> +<p>“A hundred. I intend holding for a cold hundred +thousand. There has been talk of the town building +a steam plant already; but water is of course away +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +ahead of that, and they are sure to swing to it. And +this fall is the only one within ten miles of Haddowville.” +</p> +<p>“Didn’t I tell you!” exclaimed Jack in a whisper. +“Doing somebody out of something, whatever it is.” +</p> +<p>“You might build the plant yourself, and hold the +town up for whatever you wished,” the second speaker +went on. +</p> +<p>“Yes, I could. But I prefer the ready cash. That +has always been my plan of doing business. No; I +figure on disposing of the farm just as it stands, either +to the town, or a corporation, for an even hundred +thousand.” +</p> +<p>“Does that give you a clue, Jack?” Alex asked. +</p> +<p>Jack shook his head. At the next remark, however, +he sharply gripped Alex’s arm. +</p> +<p>“What fall has the stream there?” +</p> +<p>“Forty feet, and the lake back of it is nearly a mile +long, and a half mile wide.” +</p> +<p>The rumble of the train again drowned the voices +of the two men, but Jack had heard enough. “It’s +old Uncle Joe Potter—his farm,” he said with indignation. +“Now I understand. The old farmer apparently +doesn’t know its value as an electric power plant +site, and Burke is trying to get hold of it for a song.” +</p> +<p>“Let us put the old man onto him,” Alex immediately +suggested. +</p> +<p>“I’ll talk the matter over with Father, and see +what he says,” said Jack. +</p> +<p>“But here comes the good old town,” he broke off +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +with boyish enthusiasm. “Look, there is the creek, +and the old swimming-hole at the bend. I’ll bet I’ve +been in there a thousand times. And see that spire—that’s +our church. Our house is just beyond. +</p> +<p>“Come on, let’s be getting out.” +</p> +<p>Catching up their suitcases, the boys passed down +the aisle. As they halted at the door, they glanced +back and saw that their neighbors of the next seat +were following them. The two men were still talking; +and coming to a stand behind the boys, the latter +caught a further remark from Burke apparently referring +to the Potter farm deal. +</p> +<p>“... wrote asking him to town this evening,” he +was saying. “I’ll give him a bit of a good time +to-night, and put him up at one of the hotels—and, +unless something unexpected happens, I’ll guarantee +I’ll have the thing put through by noon to-morrow.” +</p> +<p>“I hope you do,” responded his companion. +</p> +<p>“And I hope you don’t!” exclaimed Jack beneath +his breath. “And I may do something more than +hope.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Twenty minutes later, after a joyous welcome from +his father and mother, and sister Kate, and the cordial +reception extended Alex, Jack was seated at his “old +corner” of the vine-hidden veranda, recounting the +conversation they had overheard between the two real +estate men. Before Mr. Orr had ventured an opinion +in the matter, however, the subject was temporarily +thrust aside by the appearance of a party of Kate’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +girl friends, evidently much disturbed over something. +When on running forward Kate’s voice was quickly +added to the excited conversation, Jack followed to +greet the girls, and learn the cause, and returned with +the party to the veranda. +</p> +<p>“Now what do you think of this?” he exclaimed +with tragic horror. “Professor Robison, the world renowned +mind reader (though I never heard of him +before), owing to his inability to arrive, will not be +able to be present at the Girls’ Club song-fight to-night! +Did you ever!” +</p> +<p>“But it’s no laughing matter,” said Kate, following +the introduction of her friends to Alex. “He was the +feature of our program to-night, and I simply can’t +see what we are going to do. Many of the people +will be coming just to hear him.” +</p> +<p>“Jack, couldn’t you help us out?” asked one of the +other girls, half seriously. “You used to pretend you +were a phrenologist and all that kind of thing at +school, I remember.” +</p> +<p>“No thanks, Mary. I’ve gotten over all that sort +of foolishness,” Jack responded, expanding his chest +and speaking in a deep voice. “I leave that for you +younger folks.” +</p> +<p>A small laughing riot followed this pompous declaration, +and at its conclusion Jack carried Alex off to +introduce him to his pigeons and chickens, and other +former treasures of the back yard. +</p> +<p>Some minutes later Jack was dilating on the rich +under-color of his pet Buff Orpington hen, when Alex, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +with an apology, abruptly broke in. “Say, Jack, what +kind of a crowd do they have at these Girls’ Club affairs? +Very swell?” +</p> +<p>“Well, about everyone in the church goes, and quite +a few farmers usually come in from out of town. +They are as ‘swell’ as anything we have here, I guess. +The Sunday-school room is usually well filled. +Why?” +</p> +<p>“I was just wondering whether we <i>couldn’t</i> help +the girls out, and have a little fun out of it into the +bargain. Remember the soldiers on the train? Now, +why couldn’t we,” and therewith Alex briefly sketched +his plan. Jack promptly tossed the hen back into the +coop. “Great, Al! We will! It will be all kinds of +a lark. I think there is just the stuff we’ll need up +in the garret. +</p> +<p>“Come on; we’ll break the joyful tidings to the +girls.” +</p> +<p>“I’d rather you played the part, though,” said Alex +as they returned toward the veranda. “You of +course know everyone.” +</p> +<p>“That will make no difference according to this +plan. If I am in full view, too, that will add to the +mystery, and help keep up the fun. The folks will be +breaking their heads to learn who it is on the platform. +No; it’s settled. You are the distinguished +professor and phreno-what-do-you-call-it.” +</p> +<p>The girls on the veranda were still in dejected debate +as the boys reappeared. “Ladies, we’ve got this +thing fixed for you,” announced Jack. “We have just +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +wirelessed and engaged that world-famous thought-stealer, +bumpologist and general seer, Prof. Mahomet +Click, of Constantinople, to plug up that hole in your +program to-night. He stated that it would give him +great pleasure to come to the assistance of such charming +young women, et cetera, and that he could be +counted upon.” +</p> +<p>“You two mean things!” exclaimed Kate. “We +saw you with your heads together out there, laughing. +This is no joking matter at all.” +</p> +<p>“We are serious,” Jack protested. “Positively. +You go ahead and announce that owing to an attack +of croup, or any other reason, Prof. Robison will not +be able to appear, but that Prof. Click has kindly +consented to substitute, and we will look after the +rest.” +</p> +<p>“Do you really mean it?” cried the girls. +</p> +<p>“On our word as full-grown gentlemen,” responded +Jack. “But we’re not going to explain. +</p> +<p>“Come on, Alex, until we have further debate with +the distinguished Turk up in the garret. He probably +has arrived by this time.” +</p> +<p>Whatever doubts Kate had as to the seriousness of +the boys’ intentions, they had not only been dissipated +by noon, but had given place to lively curiosity and +expectation. Alex and Jack had devoted the entire +morning to their mysterious preparations; had made +numerous trips to the church school-room, to the +stores; had borrowed needles, thread, mucilage; had +turned the library shelves upside-down in a search for +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +certain books; and once, coming on them unawares, +she had surprised them practising strange incantations +with their fingers. +</p> +<p>It was late in the afternoon that the serious, and +what was to prove the most important, feature of the +evening’s performance developed. On a return trip +to the dry-goods store Jack drew Alex to a halt with +an exclamation, and pointed across the street. Burke, +the real estate man, was walking slowly along with a +shrivelled-up little old gentleman in dilapidated hat, +faded garments, and top-boots. +</p> +<p>“The victim!” said Jack with deep disgust. “Old +Uncle Joe Potter. +</p> +<p>“Look at him sporting along with a cigar in his +mouth—one of Burke’s cigars!” +</p> +<p>The boys parallelled the oddly assorted pair some +distance, and it could readily be seen that Burke was +doing his best to win the old man’s confidence, and +that the latter already was much impressed with the +attention and deference shown him by the well-dressed +agent. +</p> +<p>“If we could get the old man alone,” said Alex. +</p> +<p>“Not much chance, I am afraid. Now that he has +him in hand, Burke probably won’t lose sight of him +until he has closed his bargain. Remember what he +said just before we left the train, about giving the old +chap a good time to-night, and putting him up at one +of the hotels.” +</p> +<p>Alex halted. “Give him a good time! Say, Jack, +why shouldn’t he give him a good time at the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +Girls’ Club entertainment to-night? And then why +shouldn’t we—” +</p> +<p>Jack uttered a shout, and struck Alex enthusiastically +on the back. “Al, you’ve hit it! You’ve hit it! +Bully! +</p> +<p>“Here! Give me those complimentary tickets Kate +gave us, and I’ll go right after them, before they make +any other arrangements. You wait.” +</p> +<p>Jack was running across the street in a moment, +and drawing up alongside the two men, he addressed +them both. “Excuse me, Mr. Potter, Mr. Burke—but +wouldn’t you like to take in our Girls’ Club entertainment +to-night? It’s going to be really quite +good—good music, and fun, and a bit of tea +social in between. +</p> +<p>“I’m sure you would enjoy it,” he declared, addressing +himself to the older man. “One of the features +of the program is a chap who claims he can read +people’s thoughts. Of course nobody thinks he can, +but he will make lots of fun.” +</p> +<p>The old man smiled, and looked at his companion. +</p> +<p>“It is up to you, Mr. Potter,” responded Burke +genially. “If you think you would enjoy it, why, I +would. Your taste is good enough recommendation +for me.” +</p> +<p>“Then let us go,” said the old gentleman, putting +his hand into his pocket. +</p> +<p>“No; this is my treat,” interposed Burke, grasping +the tickets. “Here you are, lad, and keep the +change.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></p> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Jack. And with difficulty +restraining a shout, he dashed back toward Alex, waving +his hat above his head as a token of victory. +</p> +<p>The scene of the Girls’ Club entertainment, the +church school-room, was filled to the doors when the +program began that evening. +</p> +<p>“I’m beginning to be anxious about Mr. Burke and +the old man, though,” observed Jack, who with Alex +had been standing near the entrance, and remarking +on the good attendance. A moment after the door +again opened, and Jack started forward with an expression +of relief. They had come. +</p> +<p>“Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Burke,” he said. +“Shall I find you a seat?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, and a good one, now,” requested the real +estate man. +</p> +<p>“I saved two, well to the front,” responded Jack. +“This way, please.” +</p> +<p>“Now, Alex,” he said, returning, “it’s up to us.” +</p> +<p>The “mind-reading” number on the program was +at length reached. The chairman arose. +</p> +<p>“I am very sorry to say, ladies and gentlemen,” he +announced, “that Prof. Robison, who is next on the +program, was unexpectedly not able to keep his engagement. +However, in his place we have secured the +services of Prof. Mahmoud Click, of Constantinople; +astrologer, phrenologist, mind-reader, and general all-round +seer; and I am sure you will find him no less +instructive and entertaining.” +</p> +<p>Despite this assurance, in the silence which followed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +there was a distinct note of disappointment, even displeasure. +For it was obvious that the flowery title of +the substitute concealed some local amateur. +</p> +<p>Disappointment, however, quickly gave place to a +flutter of interest when the rear door opened, and preceded +by Jack Orr, there swept down the aisle a tall, +venerable figure in flowing robes; white-bearded, spectacled, +and crowned with a tall conical hat bearing +strange hieroglyphics. +</p> +<p>When, on Jack stepping aside and taking an unobtrusive +front seat, the aged professor mounted the +platform and solemnly surveyed his audience, titters, +then a burst of laughter swept over the school-room. +The long yellow robe was covered with grotesque caricatures +of cats, frogs, dogs, cranes and turtles, interspersed +with great black question-marks. +</p> +<p>The famed Oriental turned about toward a table, +and the laughing broke out afresh. In the center of +his back was a large cat’s-head, with wonderfully +squinting eyes. When the cat slowly closed one distorted +optic in a wink, then smiled, there was an unrestrained +shout of merriment, and those who were +not excitedly inquiring of one another the identity of +the “seer,” settled back in their seats expectantly. +</p> +<p>Placing the table at the front of the platform, the +professor again faced the audience, and with dignified +air, and deep, tragic voice, addressed them. +</p> +<p>“Ladees and gentlemans. Ze chairman have spoke. +I am Mahmoud Click, ze great seer, ze great mind-read, +ze great bump-read, ze great profess. (Laughter.) +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +I am ze seventeen son, of ze seventeen son, of +ze seventeen son. +</p> +<p>“An’ also have I bring for do ze magic pass,” +thrusting a hand within his robe, “Tom ze Terrible, +ze son of Tom, ze son of Tom.” +</p> +<p>The hand reappeared, and placed on the table a +tiny black kitten. +</p> +<p>The burst of laughter which greeted this was renewed +when the tiny animal began making playful +passes at a spool on a string which the dignified professor +held before it, remarking, “See? Ze magic +pass. +</p> +<p>“Now Tom ze Terrible will answer ze question, +and show he onderstan’ ze Ingleesh,” the magician +announced, at the same time swinging the spool out of +the kitten’s sight. +</p> +<p>“Tom, how old you are?” +</p> +<p>The spool was swung back, the kitten began again +hitting at it, solemnly the professor counted to twenty, +and whisked the spool away. “Twenty year. Correc’. +</p> +<p>“You see, ladees and gentlemans, ze venerable cat +he cannot make mistake,” he observed amid laughing +applause. +</p> +<p>“Now Tom, tell some odder ting. How old is ze +chairman?” indicating the dignified elderly man at +the farther end of the platform. “Five? Correc’. +</p> +<p>“You see, he always is right, yes. +</p> +<p>“Now, Tom, how old is ze Rev. Mr. Borden?... +Seven? Correc’ again.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>When the laughter which followed this “demonstration” +had subsided the professor took up a new +line. Earlier in the evening a certain John Peters, +one of the town’s foppish young gallants, and who +now occupied a prominent front seat, had widely announced +the fact that he was present for the express +purpose of “showing the mind-reader up.” At him +accordingly the first quip was directed. +</p> +<p>“Now Tom, tell ze audience, how many girl +have Mr. John Wilberforce Peters?” was asked. +“What? None?” For, the spool being held out +of sight, the kitten gazed before it stolidly, without +raising a foot. “Well, how many does he think +he have?” +</p> +<p>The spool being returned, the kitten tapped it ten +times, paused, and struck it eight more, while the resulting +wave of amusement grew, and the over-dressed +object glowered threateningly at the figure on the +platform. +</p> +<p>“And how many will he marry?... What? Not +one? Well, well,” commented the seer, to further +hearty laughter. +</p> +<p>“Now tell us about some of ze young ladies,” the +professor went on. “How many beaux has Miss +K. O.?” While Kate Orr bridled indignantly the +spool was lowered, and the kitten tapped several times +on one side, several times on the other, then, to an +outburst of laughing and clapping, sat up and began +hitting it rapidly with both paws. +</p> +<p>“I was unable to keep ze count,” announced the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +seer, “but apparently about ze seventy-five. Miss O. +she is popular wiz ze young men, yes. +</p> +<p>“And now, Tom,” continued the magician, “how +many special lady friend have Mr. Kumming (an extremely +bashful member of the choir)?... Twenty-two! +And how many young lady are in ze choir? +Twenty-two! +</p> +<p>“Ah! A strange coincidence,” observed the learned +professor amid much merriment. +</p> +<p>With similar quips and jokes the mind-reader continued, +then giving the kitten into the charge of a +little girl in a front seat, announced: +</p> +<p>“Now will I read ze head. Will some small boys +please come up and bring their heads and bumps?” +</p> +<p>Coaxing finally brought a half-dozen grinning +youngsters of eight or ten to the platform. From the +pocket of the last to respond protruded the unmistakable +cover of a dime-novel. Him the professor +seized first, and having gravely examined his head, +announced, “Ladees and gentlemans, for this boy I +predict a great future. Never have I seen such sign +of literary taste. Yes, he will be great—unless he +go west to kill ze Indian, and ze Indian see him +first.” +</p> +<p>On turning to the head of the second boy, the +phrenologist started, looked more sharply, and slowly +straightening up, announced, “Ladees and gentlemans, +I have made ze great discovery. This boy some +days you will be proud to know. Never have I seen +such a lovely bump—for eat ze pie! And any kind +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +of pie you will name. He don’t care. He will eat +it.” +</p> +<p>And so, to continued laughter, he went on, finding +remarkable cake-bumps, holiday-bumps, and picnic-bumps, +and proportionately under-developed school +and chore-bumps—with the exception of one glowing +example, which finally proved to have been developed +by a baseball bat. +</p> +<p>Then came the “mind-reading.” Placing a small +blackboard on the front of the platform, facing the +audience, the professor seated himself in a chair ten +feet behind it, and invited someone to step to the board +and write. +</p> +<p>“All I ask is,” announced the mind-reader, “please +write not too fast, and fix ze mind on what you write. +And by ze thought-wave will I tell it, letter by letter.” +</p> +<p>The first to respond wrote the name of his father, +a doctor. Expecting only some humorous guess as to +what was written, the audience was somewhat surprised +when the professor spelled out the name correctly, +only adding the humorous touch of “mud,” +hastily corrected to “M. D.” As others followed +with figures, and more difficult names and words, the +interest of the audience began to take on a new tone. +</p> +<p>The last of the first party which had stepped forward +to write was the over-dressed young man Alex +had poked some of his fun at, and who was bent on +“showing him up.” +</p> +<p>He wrote: “You are a faker.” +</p> +<p>“Explain to ze audience how I do it, zen, Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +Peters,” retorted the professor. In some confusion +Peters sought his seat, and the minister approached +the board. +</p> +<p>The interest of the audience had now become serious +and silent. Even Kate Orr, though knowing there +was trickery somewhere, was nonplussed. For Jack, +in the front row, appeared as immovable, and as +frankly interested as those about him. Loosely folded +in his lap was a newspaper which for a moment attracted +Kate’s suspicious eye; but watching closely, +she saw not the hint of a movement that might have +been a signal. +</p> +<p>The minister’s first word was the name Hosea. +This was promptly called off, and the writer went on +with others, gradually more difficult. Finally, in +rapid succession, one under the other, he wrote +“ZEDEKIAH, AHOLIBAH, NEBUCHADNEZZAR.” +As readily the figure on the platform announced +them, and the reverend gentleman turned +away with an expression frankly puzzled. +</p> +<p>“Pardon me, Mr. Professor, but since this is genuine +mind-reading, of course you could read just as +well with your eyes blindfolded, could you not? +Would you kindly give a demonstration that way?” +</p> +<p>It was Peters. There was immediate clapping at +the suggestion, and calls of “Yes, yes! Do it blindfolded!” +</p> +<p>In alarm Kate, from her seat, gazed toward Jack. +To her surprise he was one of the most energetic in +clapping the proposal. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p> +<p>The professor himself, however, was plainly disconcerted, +to the particular delight of Peters and his circle +of friends, who, as the mind-reader continued to hesitate, +clapped more and more loudly. +</p> +<p>Finally the seer arose. “Well, ladees and gentlemans, +if you wish, certainly. Though I do read just +as good with my eyes open.” +</p> +<p>This negative statement brought further derisive +laughter and clapping from Peters and his friends, +which was added to when the professor continued, +“Will some young lady be kind enough to lend me +ze handkerchief—ze tiny leetle one with plenty holes +all round?” +</p> +<p>Peters was again on his feet. “Here is one!” +</p> +<p>It was a large, dark neckerchief, obviously brought +for this very purpose. As Peters stepped forward and +mounted the platform the professor removed his spectacles +with apparent reluctance. Broadly smiling, Peters +threw the folded kerchief over the mind-reader’s +eyes, saw that it fitted snugly, and tied it. “Now +we’ve got you, Mr. Smart, of Constantinople,” he +whispered derisively. +</p> +<p>“Have ze good time and laugh while you may,” +responded the professor, and raising his voice he asked, +“Will someone kindly bring ze glass water? Mind-reading, +it is dry.” +</p> +<p>It was Jack started to his feet, passed down the +room, and returned with the desired water. Watching, +Kate expected to see a consultation between the +two boys, as to some way out of the apparent difficulty. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +Jack, however, merely placed the glass in the extended +hand, and received it back without the exchange of +a syllable. Not only that, he returned to the back of +the hall, and instead of resuming his seat at the front, +mounted to a window ledge at the rear. +</p> +<p>“Well, I am ready,” announced the professor. +“And I make ze suggestion that Mr. Peters himself +write ze first.” +</p> +<p>The latter was speedily at the board. As he wrote, +a silence fell. Previously the professor had called off +each letter as written. This time there was no response. +With a smile that gradually broadened to a +laugh Peters finished an odd Indian name, and asked, +“The thought-waves haven’t gone astray already, have +they, Mr. Professor? Haven’t been frightened off +by a mere handkerchief, surely?” +</p> +<p>“I was wondering how to pronounce it,” came the +quiet response. “I’ll spell it instead. It is, +</p> +<p>“‘M U S Q U O D O B O I T.’” +</p> +<p>Peters stared blankly. Not more blankly than the +majority of the audience, however, including Kate herself. +She turned toward Jack. He appeared as surprised +as Peters. Indeed, if there was anything suspicious, +it was that Jack appeared a trifle over-astonished. +</p> +<p>As the burst of applause which followed the first +surprise was succeeded by a wave of laughter, Kate +turned back to discover Peters, very red in the face, +drawing on the board a picture. As she looked a +grotesquely ugly face took shape. The face completed, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +there was a renewed burst of merriment when +Peters topped it with a fool’s-cap, and on that sketched +rough hieroglyphics. +</p> +<p>“Now whose picture have I drawn?” he demanded +loudly. +</p> +<p>“Well, you tried to draw mine,” responded the professor, +dropping into normal English, “but as the +dunce’s tie is far up the back of his collar, I leave the +audience to decide whose it is.” +</p> +<p>At this there were shouts and shrieks of laughter, +and Peters, hurriedly feeling, and finding his own tie +far out of place, threw the chalk to the floor and +dashed back to his seat amid a perfect bedlam of +hilarity. +</p> +<p>The uproar soon subsided, however, for not one in +the crowded room but was now thoroughly wonderstruck +at the demonstration. Some of the older people +began to step forward, writing the most difficult +names they could think of, meaningless words, groups +of figures. A teacher chalked a proposition in algebra. +Without error all were called out promptly. +</p> +<p>The climax was reached when one of the church +elders advanced to the board, and while writing, fixed +his eyes on something in his half-opened hand. +</p> +<p>Without hesitation the blindfolded unknown announced, +“Mr. Storey is writing the name of one of +the Apostles, but is thinking of a penknife.” +</p> +<p>The clapping which followed was scattered and +brief. “It’s simply uncanny,” exclaimed one of +Kate’s neighbors. Kate, glancing back toward Jack, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +shook her head. Up there, in full view, she could not +possibly see how he could have anything to do with +it. +</p> +<p>At this point the minister again stepped forward. +“Will you answer a few questions?” he scrawled. +</p> +<p>“With pleasure, Mr. Borden.” +</p> +<p>“How old am I?” +</p> +<p>“Forty-nine next September.” +</p> +<p>The minister ran his fingers through his hair, perplexedly. +</p> +<p>“How old is Mrs. Borden?” +</p> +<p>There was a slight pause, then in gallant tones came +the answer, “Twenty-two.” +</p> +<p>Amid a renewal of laughter, and much clapping +from the ladies, the minister was about to turn away, +when on second thought he turned back, and wrote: +</p> +<p>“Name the twelve Apostles.” +</p> +<p>For the first time the learned seer displayed signs +of uneasiness. After some stumbling, however, he +completed the list. +</p> +<p>With a twinkle in his eyes, the preacher inscribed +a second question, “Name Joshua’s captains.” +</p> +<p>Prof. Click cleared his throat, ran his fingers down +his beard, moved uneasily in his chair, and at length, +while a smile began to spread over the room, shook +his head. +</p> +<p>“But I am thinking of them—hard,” declared the +minister, chuckling. +</p> +<p>The professor was again about to shake his head, +when suddenly he paused, then replied boldly, “Shem, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +Ham, Hezekiah, Hittite, Peter, Goliath, Solomon and +Pharaoh.” +</p> +<p>It was during the shouts of merriment following +this ridiculous response that Kate’s mystification began +to dissolve. Glancing again toward her brother, she +saw that, despite a show of laughing, there was an +uneasiness in his face similar to that shown by the +professor. And when presently she saw him cast a +covertly longing eye toward a pile of Bibles in the +next window, she turned back to the platform, silently +laughing. She thought she had discovered the source +of the “thought waves.” +</p> +<p>The success of the brazenly invented answer to the +last question, meantime, had quite restored the professor’s +confidence, and as the minister went on, he +continued to respond in the same ridiculous fashion, +claiming, on the minister’s protest, that he was only +reading the thought-waves as they came to him. And +finally the pastor laughingly gave it up. +</p> +<p>At the next, and final, “demonstration” mystification +of another kind came to the observant Kate. Rising +to his feet, the mind-reader announced that he +would now inform a few of the “stronger thinkers” +before him the subject of their thoughts; and both in +his manner and tone Kate noted an unmistakable nervousness. +Glancing toward Jack, she saw that his face +also was grave, and with a stirring of apprehension of +she knew not what, she waited. +</p> +<p>“The first thought which reaches me,” began the +professor, “is from Miss Mary Andrews. Miss Andrews +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +thinks her pretty toque is on straight. It’s not +quite. I think one pin is coming out.” +</p> +<p>Following this laughingly applauded “reading,” the +speaker informed Miss James that she was thinking +her lace collar was not loose behind. “Which was +quite correct.” As also was Mr. Storey’s impression +that there was not a long blond hair on his coat collar. +“There was not.” +</p> +<p>Then Kate distinctly saw the speaker take a deep +breath. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Joseph Potter is a strong thinker,” he proceeded. +“I read several thoughts from Mr. Potter.” +</p> +<p>The old farmer, to whom the whole performance +had appeared as nothing less than magic, leaned out +into the aisle, breathless and staring. +</p> +<p>“It seems to me, Mr. Potter,” the mind-reader +went on, “it seems to me you are thinking about some +important business deal—some big deal concerning +land.” +</p> +<p>The old man’s mouth opened. +</p> +<p>“Also it seems to me that this land may be worth +a great deal more than—” +</p> +<p>There was an exclamation, a commotion, and +Burke, the real estate man, was on his feet. A moment +he stood staring, as though doubting his ears, then +catching up his hat he said in a loud voice, “Come, +Mr. Potter, we must go. That other engagement, you +know—I had forgotten it.” +</p> +<p>The old man sprang up, and brushed Burke aside. +“Go on! Go on!” he cried toward the figure on the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +platform. The startled audience gazed from one to +another. Several arose. +</p> +<p>“It seems to me,” resumed Alex quietly, “that +there is a waterfall on your farm, and that—” +</p> +<p>“Hold on there! Hold on!” The words came in +a shout, and springing into the aisle, Burke strode +toward the platform, purple with rage. “What do +you mean? What are you doing? +</p> +<p>“Who is this man?” he demanded at the top of +his lungs. “I demand to know! What does he mean +by—?” +</p> +<p>Swiftly hobbling down the aisle behind him, the old +man attempted to pass. Roughly Burke pushed him +back. +</p> +<p>The minister stepped forward. “Mr. Burke, what +do you mean?” +</p> +<p>“What does this man here mean by—by—” +</p> +<p>“Yes, by what, Mr. Burke?” +</p> +<p>“By making reflections against me,” shouted Burke. +“I demand an explanation! I—” +</p> +<p>“But my dear sir, I am sure nothing was said—” +</p> +<p>The old man dodged by, ran to the edge of the +platform, and cried in a thin, high voice, “Do you +mean my farm? My farm that Burke wants to +buy?” +</p> +<p>There was a momentary silence, during which here +and there could be heard long in-drawn gasps. Then +abruptly Alex tore the bandage from his eyes, swept +off the hat and beard, and stepped to the front. +</p> +<p>“There need be no further mystery about this,” he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +declared in a grimly steady voice. “On the train this +morning Jack Orr and I accidentally overheard—” +</p> +<p>From Burke came a scream, he sprang forward with +raised fists, faltered, and suddenly whirling about, +dashed down the aisle for the door, and out. And in +the breathless silence which followed Alex completed +his explanation. +</p> +<p>As the old man climbed the platform steps and +extended a shaking hand, the applause that burst from +every corner of the room fairly rattled the windows; +and as the uproar continued, and Alex sprang hastily +to the floor, he was surrounded by a jostling, enthusiastic +crowd of strangers from whom in vain he sought +to escape. +</p> +<p>Some minutes later, enjoying tea and cake in a +circle which included the minister, the latter smilingly +remarked, “But you haven’t yet explained the rest of +the mysterious doings, Master Alex. Aren’t you going +to enlighten us all round? Prefer to keep it a +secret, eh? Well, if you will promise us another +‘exposition’ I’m sure we will agree not to press you,” +declared the minister, heartily. +</p> +<p>And as a matter of fact, save Kate, no one has yet +solved the mystery, not even the janitor, although on +cutting the grass a few days later he picked up beneath +one of the school-room windows an unaccountable +piece of fine copper wire. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_THE_LAST_OF_THE_FREIGHT_THIEVES' id='XIV_THE_LAST_OF_THE_FREIGHT_THIEVES'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +<h2>XIV</h2> +<h3>THE LAST OF THE FREIGHT THIEVES</h3> +</div> + +<p>“No; I’m not after you this time,” laughingly +responded Detective Boyle to Jack’s half serious +inquiry on recognizing his visitor at the station +one evening a month later as the road detective who +on the previous memorable occasion had called in +company with the sheriff. “Instead, I want your +assistance. +</p> +<p>“Do you know,” he asked, seating himself, “that +your friends the freight thieves are operating again +on the division?” +</p> +<p>“No!” said Jack in surprise. +</p> +<p>“They are. And they have evolved some scheme +that is more baffling even than the ‘haunting’ trick +you spoiled for them here last spring. Every week +they are getting away with valuable stuff from one +of the night freights between Claxton and Eastfield, +while the train is actually en route, apparently. That +sounds incredible, I know, but it is the only possible +conclusion to come to, since the train does not stop +between those places, and I made sure the goods each +time were aboard when it left Claxton.” +</p> +<p>Jack whistled. “That does look a problem, doesn’t +it! But where do I come in, Mr. Boyle?” +</p> +<p>“Last evening, while thinking the matter over, the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +trick the thieves used here at the Junction recurred to +me—the man shipped in a box. It came to me: +Why couldn’t that same dodge be played back against +them in this case?” +</p> +<p>“Oh, I see! Have yourself shipped in a box, and +‘stolen’ by them! Clever idea,” exclaimed Jack. +</p> +<p>“Not so bad I think, myself. Well, in the country +between Claxton and Eastfield, where it is my theory +the gang has its headquarters, there are no telephone +or telegraph lines, and it struck me it would be a good +plan to take someone along with me who in case of +things going wrong could make his way back to the +railroad, and cut in on the wire and call for help. And +naturally you were the first one I thought of. Do +you want the job?” asked the detective. +</p> +<p>“I’d jump at the chance,” Jack agreed eagerly. +“It’d be more fun than enough. +</p> +<p>“But, Mr. Boyle, how do you know that the boxes +are taken to the freight thieves’ headquarters, unopened, +and not broken into right at the railroad?” +</p> +<p>“I figure that out from the number and size of the +packages they have taken each time—just a good load +for a light wagon. And anyway you can see that that +would be their safest plan. If they broke up boxes +near the track they would leave clues that would be +sure to be found sooner or later, and put us on their +trail. +</p> +<p>“And through a friend in the wholesale dry-goods +business at Claxton, who I’ll see down there to-night,” +the detective went on, “I can make practically sure +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +of our being ‘stolen’ together. The thieves have +shown a partiality for his goods; and by having our +boxes attractively labelled ‘SILK,’ and placed just +within the car door, there will be little chance of the +robbers passing us by.” +</p> +<p>“My plan is to bring it off to-morrow night. +Would that suit you?” concluded the detective. +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. That is, if I can get away. For it will +take all night, I suppose?” +</p> +<p>“Yes. There will be no trouble about your getting +off, though. I spoke to Allen before I came down,” +said Boyle, rising. “All right, it is arranged. You +take the five-thirty down to-morrow evening, with +the necessary instruments, and I’ll be at the station +to meet you. Good night.” +</p> +<p>As Boyle had promised, Jack had no difficulty in +arranging to be off duty the following night, and early +that evening he alighted from the train at Claxton, to +find the railroad detective awaiting him. +</p> +<p>“The instruments, eh?” queried Boyle, indicating +a parcel under Jack’s arm as they left the station. +“Yes, sir; and I have some wire and a file in my +pocket.” +</p> +<p>“That’s the ticket. And everything here is arranged +nicely. We will head for the warehouse at +once.” +</p> +<p>“Here’s the other ‘bolt of silk,’ Mr. Brooke,” the +detective announced a few minutes later as they entered +the office adjoining a large brick building. “All +ready for us?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></p> +<p>“Hn! He’s a pretty small ‘bolt,’ isn’t he?” commented +the merchant, eyeing Jack with some surprise. +</p> +<p>“A trifle; but he makes up for size in quality,” +declared the detective, while Jack blushed. “He is the +youngster who solved the ‘ghost’ riddle and spoiled +this same gang’s game at Midway Junction.” +</p> +<p>The merchant warmly shook Jack’s hand. “I’m +glad to meet you, my boy,” he said. “After that, I +can readily believe what Boyle says. +</p> +<p>“Yes, I am all ready. This way, please,” he requested. +</p> +<p>Following the speaker, Jack and the detective found +themselves in a large shipping-room. As they entered, +a workman with a pot and ink-brush in his hand was +surveying lettering he had just completed on a good-sized +packing-case. +</p> +<p>“Here are the ‘goods,’ Judson,” announced the +merchant. +</p> +<p>“All ready, sir,” the workman responded, eyeing +Jack and the detective curiously. +</p> +<p>“Did you substitute boards with knot-holes?” Mr. +Brooke asked. +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. And this is the door,” said the man, +indicating two wide boards at one end. “I used both +wooden buttons and screw-hooks on the inside, as you +suggested.” +</p> +<p>“Good.” +</p> +<p>The detective examined the box. “You’ve made +a good job of it,” he commented. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p>“I suppose this is the boy’s?” he added, turning to +a smaller box, on which also were the words: “SILK—VALUABLE!” +</p> +<p>With lively interest Jack examined the case. +</p> +<p>“Get in and let us see how it fits,” suggested the +merchant. Jack did so. +</p> +<p>“Fine,” he announced. “I could ride all night in +it, easily—either sitting, or lying down curled up on +my side.” +</p> +<p>Detective Boyle glanced at his watch. “You may +as well stay right there, Jack,” he said. “We will +start just as soon as the wagon is ready.” +</p> +<p>“It’s ready now. Judson, go and bring the dray +around,” the merchant directed. +</p> +<p>As the man left, the detective produced and handed +Jack a small pocket revolver. “Here, take this, Jack,” +said he. “I hope you’ll not have to use it, but we +must take all precautions. +</p> +<p>“Now to box you in.” So saying the detective +fitted the “door” of Jack’s box into place, and Jack +on the inside secured it with the hooks and wooden +buttons, and announced “O K.” The detective then +entered his own box, and with the merchant’s assistance +closed the opening. As he tested it there was a +rattle of wheels without, and the big door rumbled +open. +</p> +<p>A few minutes later the two boxes of “valuable +silk” had been slid out onto the truck, and the first +stage of the strange journey had begun. +</p> +<p>As planned, it was dusk when the two boxes +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +reached the freight depot. The station agent himself +met them. “Everything O K, Boyle?” he whispered. +</p> +<p>“O K. Place us right before the door, with the lettering +out,” the detective directed. The agent did as +requested, and with a final “Good luck!” closed and +sealed the car door just as the clanging of a bell announced +the approach of an engine. A crash and a +jar told the two unsuspected travelers that their car +had been coupled, there was a whistle, a rumble, a +clanking over switch-points—and they were on their +way. +</p> +<p>The wheels had been drumming over the rail-joints +for perhaps half an hour, and the disappearance of the +light which had filtered through the car door had announced +the fall of darkness, when there came a +screeching of brakes. +</p> +<p>“Where do you suppose we are now, Mr. Boyle?” +asked Jack from his box. +</p> +<p>“It’s the grade just north of Axford Road. When +we hit the up-grade two miles beyond we may begin +to expect something. It was along there I figured that +the— +</p> +<p>“What’s that?” +</p> +<p>Both listened. “One of the brakemen, isn’t it?” +suggested Jack. +</p> +<p>“What is he doing down on the edge of the car +roof?” +</p> +<p>The next sound was of something slapping against +the car door. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></p> +<p>Suddenly the detective gave vent to a cry that was +barely suppressed. +</p> +<p>“Jack, I’ve got it! I’ve got it at last!” he whispered +excitedly. +</p> +<p>“The freight thieves have bought up one of the +brakemen! He lets himself down to the car door by +a rope, opens it, and throws the stuff out!” +</p> +<p>Jack’s exclamation of delight at this final revelation +of the heart of the mystery was followed by one of +consternation. “But won’t we get an awful shaking +up if we’re pitched off, going at full speed?” he said +in alarm. +</p> +<p>“We may. We’ll have to take it. It’s all in the +game you know,” declared Boyle grimly. “Sit tight +and brace hard, and it’ll not be so bad, though. +</p> +<p>“Sh! Here he is!” +</p> +<p>There was a sound of feet scraping against the car +door, a rattle as the seal was broken and the clasp +freed, then a rumble and the sudden full roar of the +train told the two in the boxes that the door had been +opened. +</p> +<p>Swinging within, the intruder closed the door behind +him, and lit a match. Peering from a knot-hole, +Jack saw that the detective’s guess was correct. It +was a brakeman. +</p> +<p>As Jack watched, the man produced and lit a dark-lantern, +and turned it on the cases before him. Jack +held his breath as the light streamed through the cracks +of his own box. +</p> +<p>“Just to order,” muttered the brakeman audibly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p> +<p>“And the bigger one, too. I’ll not have to haul any +out.” +</p> +<p>Then, to Jack’s momentary alarm, then amusement, +the man seated himself on the box, above him. +</p> +<p>Presently, as Jack was wondering what the trainman +was waiting for, from the distant engine came +the two long and two short toots for a crossing, and +the man started to his feet. With his eye to the knot-hole +Jack watched. +</p> +<p>Again came a whistle, and the creaking of brakes. +Immediately the brakeman slid the car door back a +few inches, flashed his lantern four times, muffled it, +and ran the door open its full width. +</p> +<p>The critical moment had come. Gathering himself +together, Jack braced with knees and elbows. The +trainman seized the box, swung it to the door, and +tipped it forward. The next instant Jack felt himself +hurled out into the darkness. +</p> +<p>For one terrible moment he felt himself hurtling +through space. Then came a crackle of branches, the +box whirled over and over, again plunged downward, +and brought up with a crash. +</p> +<p>A brief space Jack lay dazed, in a heap, head down. +But he had been only slightly stunned, and recovering, +he righted himself, and found with satisfaction that he +had suffered no more than a bruise of the scalp and +an elbow. +</p> +<p>He had not long to speculate on his whereabouts. +From near at hand came a sound of breaking twigs, +and a voice. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +<a name='linki_22' id='linki_22'></a> +<img src='images/illus-233.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE NEXT INSTANT JACK FELT HIMSELF HURLED OUT INTO<br /> +THE DARKNESS. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></div> +<p>“Here’s one,” it said. +</p> +<p>Only with difficulty did Jack avoid betraying himself. +It was the voice of the man “Watts”! +</p> +<p>“What is it?” inquired a second voice. +</p> +<p>Through a crack a light appeared. “Silk,” announced +Watts. +</p> +<p>“A good weight, too,” he added, tipping the box. +“Catch hold.” +</p> +<p>The packing-case was caught up; and rocked and +jolted, Jack felt himself carried for what he judged +a full quarter-mile. As the men slowed up a gleam of +moonlight showed through the knot-hole, and peering +forth he discovered a tree-lined road, and a two-horse +wagon. +</p> +<p>Sliding the box into the rear of the wagon, and well +to the front, the men disappeared. The wait that +followed was to Jack the most trying experience +of the evening. Had the detective safely landed? +Was there not a possibility of the larger box having +been shattered? Or sufficiently broken to +reveal its true contents, and disclose the plot to +the freight-robbers? And what then would be his +fate? +</p> +<p>These and many other disquieting possibilities +passed through Jack’s mind, causing him several times +as the minutes went by to finger the hooks and buttons +which would permit of his escape. Finally snapping +twigs, then heavy, stumbling footfalls allayed his anxiety, +and the two men reappeared, staggering under the +box containing the officer. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>With difficulty the unsuspecting thieves raised the +heavy packing-case to the tail-board of the wagon. +</p> +<p>“It won’t go in,” said Watts’ companion. +</p> +<p>“Push this way a little,” Watts directed. +</p> +<p>“I can’t—<i>Look out!</i>” There was a scramble, and +the box crashed to the ground. At the same moment +came a muffled exclamation, and Jack caught his +breath. Was it the detective? If so, had the others +overheard it? +</p> +<p>With relief, however, he heard Watts, who apparently +was the chief of the gang, call his companion +a mule, and order him to catch hold again. The box +this time was successfully slid aboard; and at once +the two men climbed to the seat, and the wagon rumbled +off. +</p> +<p>As they rattled along over a badly-kept road Jack +gave as close attention to the passing scenery as his +limited view permitted, in order that he might be able +to find his way back to the railroad if it should prove +necessary. This did not promise to be difficult. On +either side the dim moonlight showed an unbroken +succession of trees, and also that the robbers were +continuing in one direction—apparently due south. +</p> +<p>For what seemed at least two miles they proceeded. +Then appeared a small clearing, and with a quickening +of the pulse Jack felt the wagon slow up and turn +in. They were at their destination. +</p> +<p>A forbiddingly suitable place for its purpose it was. +Standing out darkly on the crest of a rise two hundred +yards back, was a low shanty-like house, in which appeared +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +a single gleam of light. Between, to the road, +stretched a desolate moonlit prospect of stumps, decaying +logs and brush-piles. On either side the woods +formed a towering wall of blackness. +</p> +<p>Rocking and pitching, the wagon made its way up +a rutty, corkscrew lane. They reached the house, and +the door opened, and a tall, unpleasant-looking woman +appeared and greeted the men. +</p> +<p>“Good luck, eh?” she remarked briefly. +</p> +<p>“Sure. Don’t we always have good luck?” responded +Watts. “Is supper ready?” +</p> +<p>“Yes. You-uns better come in before you opens +them boxes,” said the woman. +</p> +<p>“All right.” +</p> +<p>Passing on, the wagon came at last to a halt before +a good-sized barn. The two men leaped to the ground, +and while one of them opened the large side doors the +other proceeded to back the wagon to it. +</p> +<p>As the two freight thieves then unhooked, and led +their horses to the stable, there came to Jack’s ears +a welcome tapping. “Are you all right, lad?” whispered +the detective. +</p> +<p>“Yes, O K, sir, though a bit nervous,” Jack acknowledged. +</p> +<p>“Keep cool and we’ll soon have them where we +want them. As they are going in to supper first we’ll +not leave the boxes till then. That’ll give us just the +opportunity we want to look around and arrange +things nicely. +</p> +<p>“Sh! Here they come!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span></p> +<p>“Catch hold,” said Watts. Jack heard the detective’s +box slide out, an “Up!” from Watts, the staggering +steps of the men across the barn floor, and a +thud as the box was dropped. +</p> +<p>At what then immediately followed Jack for a +moment doubted his senses. It was the voice of Watts +saying quietly and coldly, “Now my clever friend in +the box, kindly come out!” +</p> +<p>They <i>had</i> heard Boyle’s exclamation when the box +had fallen! +</p> +<p>Scarcely breathing, Jack listened. Would the detective +give himself up without a— +</p> +<p>There was a muffled report, instantly a second, +louder, then silence. +</p> +<p>“Will you come out now?” demanded Watts. +</p> +<p>To Jack’s horror there was no response. Watts repeated +the order, then called on his companion for an +axe, and there followed the sound of blows and splintering +wood. +</p> +<p>“Now haul him out.” +</p> +<p>Terror-stricken, Jack listened. Suddenly there +came the sound of a scramble, then of a terrific struggle. +</p> +<p>The detective was all right! It had been only a +ruse! Uttering a suppressed hurrah Jack began hurriedly +undoing the fastenings of his door, to get out to +the detective’s assistance. Before he had opened it, +however, there was the sound of a heavy fall, and a +triumphant shout from Watts. Promptly Jack paused, +debated a moment, and restored the fastenings. He +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +would wait. Perhaps they would bind Boyle and leave +him in the barn. +</p> +<p>A moment later Jack regretted his decision. +Through the knot-hole he saw the detective led by, his +arms bound behind him, and one of the freight-robbers +on either side. +</p> +<p>The voices and footsteps died away in the direction +of the house, and Jack fell to wondering what he +should do. Before he had decided he heard the voices +of the men returning. Apprehensively he waited. +Had they any suspicion of his presence in the second +packing-case? +</p> +<p>While he held his breath and grimly clutched his +revolver, they slid his box to the rear of the wagon, +lifted it out, and deposited it on the barn floor. +</p> +<p>“Going to have a look at it? Make sure it hasn’t +some live stock in it too?” inquired the second +man. +</p> +<p>Jack’s heart stood still. +</p> +<p>“No; it’s all right,” declared Watts confidently. +“We’ll have supper first.” And to Jack’s unspeakable +relief they passed out and closed the barn door. +Listening until from the house had come the slamming +of a door, Jack once more freed the fastenings within +the box, slipped the board aside, again listened a moment, +and crawled forth. +</p> +<p>As he stood stretching his cramped limbs, he glanced +about. A tier of what looked like bolts of cloth in +the moonlight beneath one of the barn windows caught +his eye. He stepped over. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p> +<p>It was silk—silk such as he had seen in the warehouse +at Claxton! +</p> +<p>Instantly there came to Jack a startling suggestion. +As quickly he decided to act upon it. “They may +never ‘catch on,’” he told himself delightedly, “and +in any case it will give me a good start back for the +railroad, for help.” +</p> +<p>Glancing from the barn window, to make sure all +was quiet in the direction of the house, he drew his +box into the moonlight, took out the parcel containing +the telegraph instruments, and proceeded to remove +the hooks and buttons, and all other signs of the +“door.” Then quickly he filled the box with bolts of +silk from the pile beneath the window. +</p> +<p>That done, he found a hammer and nails, and muffling +the hammer with his handkerchief, as quietly +as possible nailed the boards into place. Triumphantly +he slid the box to its former position on the +floor. +</p> +<p>“I think that will fool you, Mr. Watts,” he said +with a smile, and catching up the telegraph instruments +he turned to the door. +</p> +<p>On the threshold he started back. The two men, +and two others, were returning from the house. +</p> +<p>In alarm Jack looked about for a way of escape. +Across the barn was a smaller door. He ran for it +on tiptoe, darted through, and found himself in the +stable. Passing quietly on to the outer door, which +the cracks and moonlight revealed, he waited until the +four men had entered the main barn, then slipped +forth, and keeping in the shadows, ran toward the +house. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +<a name='linki_23' id='linki_23'></a> +<img src='images/illus-241.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +HE SAW THE DETECTIVE LED BY, HIS ARMS BOUND BEHIND HIM. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></div> +<p>A beam of light streamed from one of the rear +windows. Jack made for it, and cautiously approaching, +peered within. The woman he had seen at the +door was at a table, washing dishes, her back toward +him. And just beyond, facing him, and bound hand +and foot in a big arm-chair, was the detective. +</p> +<p>For some minutes Jack tried in vain to attract the +officer’s attention. Then the woman obligingly +stepped into the pantry with some dishes, and quickly +Jack gave a single tap on the window-pane. Boyle +looked up instantly, started, smiled, then nodded his +head in the direction of the railroad. Jack held up +the parcel containing the telegraph instruments, the +detective nodded again, and in a moment Jack was +off. +</p> +<p>It was an exhausting run over the rough, little-used +road, now darkened by the overhanging trees; but at +length Jack recognized the point at which he had been +carried from the woods, and turning in, soon found +himself at the railroad. +</p> +<p>Hurrying to the nearest telegraph pole, he swarmed +up to the cross-tree, and quickly filed through the wire +on one side of the glass insulator. The broken wire +fell jangling to the rails. Connecting an end of the +wire he had brought with him to the wire on the other +side of the pin, Jack slid to the ground, made the connections +with the instrument, and the relay clicked +closed. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p> +<p>At once someone on the wire sent, “Who had it +open? What did you say?” +</p> +<p>“Alex!” exclaimed Jack, at once recognizing the +sending; and was about to break in when the instrument +clicked, “17 just coming—CX.” +</p> +<p>“Claxton, and 17! Just what we want!” Quickly +interrupting, Jack sent, “CX—Hold 17! Hold her!” +</p> +<p>Then, “To X—This is Jack, Al. I’m in the woods +about four miles from Claxton. We found the freight +thieves, but they have Boyle prisoner. Ask the chief +to have 17 take on a posse at CX and rush them here. +I’ll wait here, and lead them back. If they are quick +they’ll capture the whole gang.” +</p> +<p>“OK! OK! Good for you,” shot back Alex. The +wire was silent a moment, then Jack heard the order +go on to Claxton as desired. +</p> +<p>Twenty-five minutes later, waiting in the darkness +on the track, Jack saw the headlight of the fast-coming +freight. The engineer, on the lookout, discovered him, +pulled up, and a moment after Jack was off through +the woods followed by two officers and several of the +train crew. +</p> +<p>When they reached the farm, lights were still moving +about in the barn. Stealthily the party made for +it, and surrounded it. +</p> +<p>“How would you like to lead the way in, Jack?” +whispered the sheriff as they paused before the door. +“That would be only fair, after the trick Watts played +on you.” +</p> +<p>Jack caught at the idea delightedly, and all being +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +ready, boldly threw open the barn door and entered +with drawn revolver, followed by the sheriff. +</p> +<p>The four occupants were so completely taken by +surprise that for a moment they stood immovable +about a box of dry-goods they had been repacking. +</p> +<p>“How do you do, Mr. Watts,” said Jack, smiling. +“This is my friend the sheriff, and the barn is surrounded. +I think you would be foolish not to give +up.” +</p> +<p>“Yes, hands up!” crisply ordered the sheriff. And +slowly the four pairs of hands went into the air, and +the entire balance of the long-successful gang of +freight thieves were prisoners. +</p> +<p>It was Jack himself who rushed off to the house +and freed Detective Boyle. A half hour later, with +one of the robbers’ own wagons filled with a great +quantity of recovered stolen goods, the sheriff escorted +his prisoners back to the railroad, and before daylight +they were in the jail at Eastfield. +</p> +<p>Jack received considerable attention because of his +part in the capture, and the affair still forms one of +the popular yarns among trainmen on that division of +the Middle Western. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_THE_DUDE_OPERATOR' id='XV_THE_DUDE_OPERATOR'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +<h2>XV</h2> +<h3>THE DUDE OPERATOR</h3> +</div> + +<p>Alex Ward, like most vigorous, manly boys +of his type, had a fixed dislike for anything +approaching foppishness, especially in other boys. +Consequently when on reporting at the Exeter office +one evening he was introduced to Wilson Jennings, +Alex treated him with but little more than necessary +courtesy. For the newcomer, an operator but little +older than himself, was distinctly a “dude”—from +his patent-leather shoes and polka-dotted stockings to +his red-and-yellow banded white straw hat. His carefully-pressed +suit was the very latest thing in light +checked gray, he wore a collar which threatened to +envelope his ears, and his white tie was of huge dimensions. +Also he possessed the fair pink-and-white complexion +of a girl. +</p> +<p>Alex was not alone in his derisive attitude toward +the stranger. Shortly following the appearance of the +night chief Mr. Jennings nodded everyone a good-evening, +and departed, and immediately there was a +general roar of laughter in the operating-room. +</p> +<p>“Where did he fall from?” “Whose complexion +powder is he advertising?” “Did you get onto his +picture socks?” were some of the remarks bandied +about. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p> +<p>When the chief announced that the new operator +was from the east, and was being sent to the little +foothills tank-station of Bonepile, there was a fresh +outburst of hilarity. +</p> +<p>“Why, that cowboy outfit near there will string +him up to the tank spout,” declared the operator on +whose wire Bonepile was located. “It’s the toughest +proposition on the wire.” +</p> +<p>“On the quiet, that is just why Jordan is sending +him,” the night chief said. “Not to have him strung +up, that is, but to put him in the way of ‘finding himself,’ +so to speak.” +</p> +<p>“He’ll certainly ‘find himself’ there, then—if +there’s anything left to find when the ranch crew get +through,” laughed the operator. “I’d give five real +dollars to see that show, and walk back.” +</p> +<p>“At that, you <i>might</i> have to walk back, if you +wagered your money on the outcome,” responded the +chief more gravely, turning to his desk. “Clothes +don’t make a man—neither do they un-make one. +The ‘Dude’ may surprise us yet.” +</p> +<p>Whether the outcome of his appointment to the little +watering station was to be a surprise or no, there was +no doubt of Wilson Jennings’ surprise when the following +morning he alighted from the train at Bonepile, +and as the train sped on, awoke to the realization +that he was entirely alone. Blankly he gazed at the +little red-brown “drygoods-box” depot, the water-tank, +the hills to the west, and to north, south and east +the limitless stretching prairie. He had never imagined +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +anything like this when he had decided on giving +up a good position in the east to taste “some adventure” +in the great west. +</p> +<p>However, here he was; and picking up his two suitcases, +the boy made his way in to the tiny operating-room, +and on into the bunk-kitchen-living-room +behind. For here, “a hundred miles from anywhere,” +the operator’s board and lodging was provided by the +railroad. +</p> +<p>Early that evening Wilson was sitting somewhat +disconsolately at the telegraph-room window when he +was startled by a loud whoop. There was a second, +then a rush of hoofs, and a party of cowboys came into +view. +</p> +<p>It was the “welcoming committee” of the Bar-O +ranch, the “outfit” referred to by the operator at +Exeter. +</p> +<p>With a final whoop the cowmen thundered up to the +station platform, and dismounted. Muskoka Jones, a +huge, heavily-moustached ranchman over six feet in +height, was first to reach the open window. Diving +within to the waist, he brought a bottle down on the +instrument table with a crash. +</p> +<p>“Pardner, welcome to our city!” he shouted. +</p> +<p>The response should have been instantaneous and +hearty. Instead there was a strange quiet. +</p> +<p>The following Bar-O’s faltered, and exchanged +glances. Surely the Western had not at last “fallen +down” on its first obligation at Bonepile! For since +the coming of the rails they had regarded the station +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +operator as a sort of social adjunct to the ranch—the +keeper of an open house of hospitality, their daily +paper, the final learned authority on all matters of +politics and sport. And if this latest change of operators +had brought them— +</p> +<p>Muskoka spoke again, and the worst was realized. +</p> +<p>“Well, you gal-faced little dude!” +</p> +<p>The cowmen crowded forward, and peering over +Muskoka’s board shoulders, studied Wilson from head +to foot with speechless scorn. +</p> +<p>Muskoka settled forward on his elbows. +</p> +<p>“Are you a real operator?” he inquired. +</p> +<p>In a voice that sounded foolish even to himself Wilson +responded in the affirmative. +</p> +<p>“Actooal, real, male operator?” +</p> +<p>The cluster of bronzed faces guffawed loudly. +</p> +<p>“But y’ don’t play kiards, do you?” Muskoka +asked incredulously. “Now I bet you don’t. Or +smoke? Or chew? Or any of them wicked—” +</p> +<p>“Here are some cigarettes the other man left.” +Hopefully the boy extended the package—to have it +snatched from his hand, scramblingly emptied, and the +box flipped ceilingward. +</p> +<p>In falling the box brought further trouble. It +struck something on the wall which emitted a hollow +thud, and glancing up the cowmen espied Wilson’s +new, brilliantly-banded hat. In a trice Muskoka’s long +arm had secured it, with the common inspiration the +cluster of faces withdrew; the hat sailed high in the +air, there was an ear-splitting rattle of shots, and the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +shattered remnant was returned to Wilson with ceremony. +</p> +<p>“There—all proper millinaried dee la Bonepile,” +said Muskoka. “An’ don’t mention it.” +</p> +<p>“Now give me that white-washed fence you have +around your ears.” The boy shrank farther back in +his chair, then suddenly turned and reached for the +telegraph key. In a moment the big cowman’s pistol +was out. +</p> +<p>“Back in your chair! Give me that white fence!” +he commanded. +</p> +<p>Trembling, Wilson removed his collar and handed +it over. The cowman stepped back and calmly proceeded +to shoot a row of holes in it. +</p> +<p>“There,” he announced, returning it, “much better. +That’s Bonepile fashion. Put it on.” +</p> +<p>Meekly Wilson obeyed, and the circle of cowmen +roared at the result. +</p> +<p>“Now,” proceeded Muskoka, “that coat of yours is +nice. Very nice. But I think it’d look better inside-out. +Try it.” +</p> +<p>Wilson again turned desperately toward the key, +the cowman banged on the table with his pistol, and +slowly the boy complied. And a few minutes after, +on a further command, he emerged from the doorway—in +shattered hat, perforated collar, ridiculously +turned coat, and with trousers rolled to his knees—a +spectacle that set the cowboys staggering and shouting +about the platform in convulsions of laughter. +</p> +<p>In fact the result was so pleasing that after enjoying +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +it to the full, the ranchmen decided to carry the +hazing no further, and only requesting of Wilson that +he wave his hat and give “three cheers for the citizens +of Bonepile,” they mounted their ponies, and scampered +away. +</p> +<p>Hastening in to the telegraph instruments, Wilson +began frantically calling Exeter. Before X had responded, +however, the boy paused, and sat back in his +chair, a new light coming into his eyes. +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir; I’ll wager they sent them down here +to do this,” he said aloud. +</p> +<p>Suddenly he arose, and began removing the turned +coat. “I’ll stick it out here for two weeks—if they +lynch me!” declared the “dude” grimly. +</p> +<p>It was early Wednesday evening of a week later +that the monthly gold shipment came down from the +Red Valley mines. The consignment was an unusually +large one, and in view of the youth of the new +operator the superintendent wired a request that Big +Bill Smith, the driver of the mines express, remain +at the station until the treasure was safely aboard +train. +</p> +<p>On reading the message, however, Big Bill flatly +refused. “Why, it’s the night of Dan Haggerty’s +dance,” he pointed out indignantly. “Doesn’t the +superintendent know that?” +</p> +<p>“The superintendent didn’t—and didn’t care,” +was the response to the wired protest. “The driver +was supposed to remain at all times. It was an old +understanding.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></p> +<p>Understanding or not, Big Bill declined to remain, +and stormed out the door, announcing that he would +get someone down from the Bar-O ranch. Half an +hour later Muskoka Jones appeared. +</p> +<p>“Good evening. I’m sorry it was necessary to +trouble you, sir,” apologized Wilson. +</p> +<p>“Good evening, Willie. Don’t mention it,” was the +big cowman’s scornful response. Then, having momentarily +paused to cast a contemptuous eye over the +lad’s neat attire, he threw himself on the floor in the +farthermost corner of the room, and promptly fell fast +asleep. +</p> +<p>Some time after darkness had fallen the young telegrapher, +dozing in his chair at the instrument table, +was startled into consciousness by the sound of approaching +hoofbeats. With visions of Indians or robbers +he sprang to the window, to discover a dim, tall +figure dismounting on the platform. In alarm he +turned to call the sleeping guard, but momentarily hesitating, +looked again, the figure came into the light of +the window, and with relief he recognized Iowa Burns, +another of the Bar-O cowmen. +</p> +<p>“Hello, kid,” said the newcomer, entering. +“Where’s Old Muskoke?” +</p> +<p>“Good evening. Over there, asleep, sir. I suppose +you knew he was taking Mr. Smith’s place, guarding +the gold until the train came in?” +</p> +<p>“Sure, yes. I was there when Bill come up.” He +crossed to the side of the snoring Jones, and kicked +him sharply on the sole of his boots. “M’skoke! Git +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +up!” he shouted. “Here’s something to keep out the +chills.” +</p> +<p>Again, and more sharply, he kicked the sleeping +man, while the boy looked on, smiling. +</p> +<p>Suddenly the smile disappeared, and the lad’s heart +leaped into his throat. He was gazing into the black, +round muzzle of a pistol, and beyond it was a face set +with a deadly purpose. Instinctively his staring eyes +flickered towards the box of bullion. +</p> +<p>“Yep, that’s it. But wink an eye agin, an’ y’ git +it!” said Burns coldly, advancing. “Now, git back +there up agin the corner of the table, an’ stand, so ’f +anyone comes along you’ll appear to be leanin’ there, +conversin’. Go on, quick!” +</p> +<p>Dazed, cold with fear, the boy obeyed, and Iowa, +producing a sheaf of hide thongs, proceeded to bind +his arms to his side. +</p> +<p>As the renegade tightened a knot securing the boy’s +left leg to the leg of the table, Muskoka’s snoring abruptly +ceased, and the sleeper moved uneasily. In a +flash Iowa was over him, pistol in hand. But the snoring +presently resumed, and after watching him sharply +for a moment, Iowa returned to the boy. +</p> +<p>“Now move, remember, an’ I shoot,” he repeated +warningly. “To make sure, I’m going to fix up that +snoring idiot over there before I finish you. An’ don’t +you as much as shuffle your hoof!” Recovering the +bundle of thongs, he strode back to the sleeper. +</p> +<p>As previously the man’s back had been turned Wilson +had shot a frantic glance about him. In their +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +sweep his eyes had fallen on the partly open drawer +in the end of the table, immediately below his left +hand, and in the drawer had noted the bowl of a pipe. +At the moment nothing had resulted, but as the renegade’s +back was again turned his eyes again dropped +to the drawer, and a sudden wild possibility occurred +to him. +</p> +<p>His heart seemed literally to stand still at the audacity, +the danger of it. But might it not be possible? +The light from the single lamp, on the wall opposite, +was poor, and his left side thus in deep shadow. And +his left hand—he tried it—yes, though tightly bound +at the wrist, the hand itself was free. +</p> +<p>His first day at the station, the visit of the men +from the ranch, Muskoka’s contemptuous greeting, +recurred to him. Here was his opportunity of vindication. +</p> +<p>With a desperate clenching of the teeth the boy decided, +and at once began cautiously straining at the +thongs about his wrist, to obtain the reach necessary. +Finally they slipped, slightly, but enough. Carefully +he leaned sideways, his fingers extended. He reached +the pipe, fumbled a moment, and secured it. +</p> +<p>Burns was on his knees beside the unconscious +guard, splicing a thong. An instant Wilson hesitated, +then springing erect, pointed the pipe-stem, and in a +voice he scarcely knew, a voice sharp as the crack of +a whip, cried: +</p> +<p>“Hands up, Burns! I got you! +</p> +<p>“<i>Quick! I’ll shoot!</i>” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p> +<p>The renegade cowman, taken completely by surprise, +leaped to his feet with a cry, without turning, his hands +instinctively half-raised. +</p> +<p>“Quick! Up! <i>Up!</i>” cried the boy. A breathlessly +critical instant the hands wavered, then slowly, reluctantly, +they ascended. +</p> +<p>For a moment the young operator stood panting, +but half believing the witness of his own eyes to the +success of the stratagem. Then at the top of his voice +he cried: “Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones! Muskoka! Wake +up! Wake up!” +</p> +<p>Iowa, muttering beneath his breath, paused anxiously +to watch results. +</p> +<p>“Muskoka! Muskoka!” shouted the lad. The +snoring continued evenly, unbrokenly. +</p> +<p>Iowa indulged in a dry laugh. “Save your wind, +kid,” he said. “I fixed a drink he took before he came +down.” +</p> +<p>At this news the boy’s heart sank. +</p> +<p>“But look here, kid.” Iowa turned carefully, hands +still in the air. “Look here, can’t we square this thing +up? You got the drop on me, O K—and with a +blame little pea-shooter,” he added, catching a glimpse, +as he thought, of the end of a small black barrel, but +nevertheless continuing his attitude of surrender. +“You got the drop—and you’re a smart kid, you +are—but can’t we fix this thing up? You take half, +say? I’d be glad to let you in. Honest! An’ no +one’d ever think you was in the game. Come, what +d’ y’ say?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p> +<p>Though apparently listening, the young operator +was in reality urgently casting about in his mind for +other expedients. Obviously it would be too dangerous +to attempt to reach with the fingers of one of his +bound hands the thongs holding his left leg to the leg +of the table. He might reveal the pipe, or drop it. +And neither could he reach the telegraph key, to get in +touch with someone on the wire. And in any case, how +could that help him? For the next train was not due +for two hours, and it did not seem possible he could +carry on his bluff that length of time. +</p> +<p>But think as he would, the wire seemed the only +hope. Could he not reach the key in some way? +</p> +<p>The solution came as Iowa ventured a short step +nearer, and repeated his suggestion. At first sight +it seemed as ridiculously impossible as the bluff with +the pipe, but quickly the boy weighed the chances, and +determined to take the risk. +</p> +<p>“Now, Mr. Iowa,” he said, “you are to do just +exactly what I tell you, step by step, so much and no +more. If you make any other move, if I only think +you are going to, I shall shoot. My finger is pressing +the trigger constantly. And I guess you can see that +at this range, though my hold on the gun is a bit +cramped, I could not miss you if I wanted to. +</p> +<p>“Listen, now. You will come forward until you +can reach the chair here by sticking out your foot. +Then you will push it back along the table to the wall, +and turn it face to me. Then you will sit down in it. +After that I’ll tell you some more. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<p>“Go ahead! And remember—my finger always +pressing the trigger!” +</p> +<p>As Burns came forward, infinitely puzzled, the boy +turned slowly, so that the “muzzle” of the pipe continued +to cover the would-be bullion thief. Gingerly +Iowa reached out with his foot and shoved the chair +back to the wall, and turning, backed into it and sat +down. With the shadow of a grin on his face, he +demanded, “Wot next?” +</p> +<p>“Now, slowly let your left arm down at full length +on the table. There—hand is on the key, isn’t it? +</p> +<p>“Now,” continued Wilson, who never for an instant +allowed his eyes to wander from the man’s face, “now +feel with your fingers at the back of the key, and find +a screw-head, standing up.” +</p> +<p>“Which one? There are two or three,” said Iowa +craftily. +</p> +<p>“No, there are not. There’s just one. And I give +you ‘three’ to find it,” said the young operator +sharply. “One, two—” +</p> +<p>“Oh, go on! I got it!” exclaimed Iowa angrily. +</p> +<p>“Below the screw-head is a binding-nut. Loosen +it, and turn it leftwise. Found it? Now take hold of +the screw-head again, and turn it to the left. It turns +free, doesn’t it?” +</p> +<p>“Sure.” +</p> +<p>“Turn it about four times completely around. Now +the binding nut again, down, the other way, till it’s +tight. Got it? +</p> +<p>“Now, hold your finger tips over the black button +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +at the inner end of the key, and hit down on it +smartly.” +</p> +<p>There was a click. +</p> +<p>“That’s it. It has plenty of play, hasn’t it?” +</p> +<p>“Works up and down about an inch, if that’s wot +you mean,” growled Iowa, still puzzled. “But +wot—” +</p> +<p>“I’m going to give you a lesson in telegraphy and +you are going to—” +</p> +<p>Iowa saw, and exploded. “Well, of all the—Say, +wot do you think—” +</p> +<p>“All right!” Sharply, bravely, though inwardly +steeling himself for catastrophe, the lad counted, +“One!—Two!—” +</p> +<p>Again he won. “Oh, go on!” sputtered Iowa, +through gritting teeth. And the boy resumed. +</p> +<p>“Hit the key a sharp rap! Pretty good. Now, two +raps, one right after the other. Good. +</p> +<p>“Now, those are what we call ‘dots.’ Remember. +Now, press the key down, hold it for just a moment, +and let it come up again. Very good. You would +learn telegraphy quickly, Mr. Burns. That is what we +call a ‘dash.’” With the situation apparently so well +in hand, Wilson was beginning almost to enjoy it. +</p> +<p>“Now I’ll have you do what I’ve been aiming at. +And remember always—my finger is constantly pressing +the trigger!” +</p> +<p>“Now then, feel just this side of the key button, +below. The little button of a lever? Got it? Press it +from you.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p> +<p>There was a single sharp upward click of relay and +sounder. The key was “open,” ready for operation. +</p> +<p>“Now listen. I want you to make the letter X—a +dot, a dash, then two more dots right together. And +keep repeating till I stop you.” +</p> +<p>Still under the spell of the fancied revolver and the +boy’s unfaltering gaze, the renegade cowman obeyed, +and the telegraph instruments clicked out a painfully +deliberate, but fairly readable “X.” +</p> +<p>It was an idle half-hour, and when the despatcher +at Exeter heard his call he glanced up from a magazine, +listened a moment, and impatiently remarking, “Some +idiot student!” returned to his reading. +</p> +<p>But steadily, insistently, the repetition of X’s continued, +and at length he reached forward, struck open +the key, and demanded, “Who? Sign!” +</p> +<p>Clumsily came the answer, “B.” +</p> +<p>“Bonepile! Now what’s happening down there? +It doesn’t sound like the new operator, either.” +</p> +<p>The wire again clicked open, and slowly, in the +same heavy hand, the mystified and then amazed despatcher +read: +</p> +<p>“H-E-L-P—H-E-L-D U-P—A-F-T-E-R +G-O-L-D—T-I-E-D T-O T-A-B-L-E—G-O-T +D-R-O-P O-N H-I-M—M-A-K-I-N-G H-I-M +S-E-N-D—B.” +</p> +<p>The despatcher grasped his key. “Good boy! Good +boy!” he hurled back. “Keep it up for twenty-five +minutes and we’ll get help to you. There’s an extra +engine at H, waiting for 92. I’ll start her right +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +down.” And therewith he whirled off into an urgent +succession of “H’s.” +</p> +<p>But through young Jennings’ strange feat in telegraphy +help was nearer even than the unexpected +succor from Hillside. Despite the sleeping draught +Burns had administered to Muskoka Jones, the unaccustomed +clicking of the telegraph instruments had +begun to arouse the big cowman. When finally, in +climax, came the lightning whirr of the despatcher’s +excited response, he gasped into consciousness, blinked, +and suddenly found himself sitting upright, staring +open-mouthed at the spectacle before him. +</p> +<p>The next moment, with a shout, he was on his feet +in the middle of the floor, and the nerve-strung boy +had fainted. +</p> +<p>As the lad sank forward his “pistol” fell from his +hand and rolled into the light. +</p> +<p>From Burns came an inarticulate cry, his jaw +dropped, his eyes started in his head. Muskoka +halted in his stride, wet his lips and muttered incredulous +words of admiration and amazement. Then in +a moment he had cut Wilson free, and stretched him +on the floor. +</p> +<p>It was Iowa broke the silence. Rising, with compressed +lips he held toward Muskoka the butt of his +pistol. “Here, shoot me—with my own gun!” he +said hoarsely. “I deserve it.” +</p> +<p>Muskoka considered. “No,” he decided at length. +“Leave your gun as a present for the kid, and,” turning +and indicating the door, “git!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></p> +<p>Thus was it the young “dude” operator proved +himself, and came into possession of a handsome pearl-handled +Colt’s revolver—and, early the following +morning, from a “committee” of the Bar-O cowmen, +headed by Muskoka Jones, a fine high-crowned, silver-spangled +Mexican sombrero, to take the place of the +hat they had destroyed, and “as a mark of esteem +for the pluckiest little operator ever sent to Bonepile.” +</p> +<p>More important still, however, the incident won +Wilson immediate esteem at division headquarters, +where one of the first of the operators to congratulate +him was Alex Ward. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_A_DRAMATIC_FLAGGING' id='XVI_A_DRAMATIC_FLAGGING'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +<h2>XVI</h2> +<h3>A DRAMATIC FLAGGING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Since shortly following Jack Orr’s appointment to +Midway Junction Alex had been “agitating,” as +he called it, for his friend’s transfer to the telegraph +force at the division terminal. At length, early in +the fall, Alex’s efforts bore fruit, and Jack was offered, +and accepted, the “night trick” at one of the big yard +towers at Exeter. +</p> +<p>Of course the two chums were now always together. +And the day of the big flood that October was no exception +to the rule. All afternoon the two boys had +wandered up and down the swollen river, watching +the brown whirling waters, almost bank high, and the +trees, fences, even occasional farm buildings, which +swept by from above. When six o’clock came they +reluctantly left it for supper, and the night’s duties. +</p> +<p>“Well, what do you think of the river, Ward?” +inquired the chief night despatcher as Alex entered +the despatching-room. +</p> +<p>“It looks rather bad, sir, doesn’t it. Do you think +the bridge is quite safe?” +</p> +<p>“Quite. It has been through several worse floods +than this. It’s as strong as the hills,” the despatcher +affirmed. +</p> +<p>Despite the chief’s confidence, however, when about +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +5 o’clock in the morning there came reports of a second +cloud-burst up the river, he requested Alex to call up +Jack, at the yard tower which overlooked the bridge, +and ask him to keep them posted. +</p> +<p>“Tell him the crest of this new flood will likely +reach us in half an hour,” he added; “and that by that +time, as it is turning colder, there’ll probably be a +heavy fog on the river.” +</p> +<p>Twenty-five minutes later Jack suddenly called, and +announced, “The new flood’s coming! There is a +heavy mist, and I can’t see, but I can hear it. Can +you see it from up there?” +</p> +<p>Alex and the chief despatcher moved to one of the +western windows, raised it, and in the first gray light +of dawn gazed out across the valley below. Instead +of the dark waters of the river, and the yellow embankment +of the railroad following it, winding away north +was a broad blanket of fog, stretching from shore to +shore. But distinctly to their ears came a rumble as +of thunder. +</p> +<p>“It must be a veritable Niagara,” remarked the +chief with some uneasiness. “I never heard a bore +come down like that before.” +</p> +<p>“Here she comes,” clicked Jack from the tower. +They stepped back to his instruments. +</p> +<p>“Say!—” +</p> +<p>There was a pause, while the chief and Alex exchanged +glances of apprehension, then came quickly, +“Something has struck one of the western spans of +the bridge and carried it clean away— +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></p> +<p>“No—No, it’s there yet! But it’s all smashed +to pieces! Only the upper-structure seems to be holding!” +</p> +<p>Sharply the despatcher turned to an operator at one +of the other wires. “McLaren, Forty-six hasn’t +passed Norfolk?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Five minutes ago.” +</p> +<p>A cry broke from the chief, and he ran back to the +window. Alex followed, and found him as pale as +death. +</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Mr. Allen?” he exclaimed. +</p> +<p>“Matter! Why, Norfolk is the last stop between +that train and the bridge! She’ll be down here in +twenty minutes! And even if we can get someone +across the bridge immediately, how can they flag her +in that wall of mist?” Hopelessly he pointed where +on the farther shore the tracks were completely hidden +in the blanket of white vapor. “And there’s no time +to send down torpedoes.” +</p> +<p>At the thought of the train rushing upon the broken +span, and plunging from sight in the whirling flood +below, Alex felt the blood draw back from his own +face. +</p> +<p>“But we will try something! We must try something!” +he cried. +</p> +<p>At that moment the office door opened and Division +Superintendent Cameron appeared. “Good morning, +boys,” he said genially. “I’m quite an early bird this +morning, eh? Came down to meet the wife and children. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +They’re getting in from their vacation by +Forty-six. +</p> +<p>“Why, Allen, what is the matter?” +</p> +<p>The chief swayed back against the window-ledge. +“One of the bridge spans—has just gone,” he +responded thickly, “and Forty-six—passed Norfolk!” +</p> +<p>The superintendent stared blankly a moment, started +forward, then staggered back into a chair. But in +another instant he was on his feet, pallid, but cool. +“Well, what are you doing to stop her?” he demanded +sharply. +</p> +<p>The chief pulled himself together. “It only happened +this moment, sir. The man at the yard tower +just reported. One of the western spans was struck +by something. Only the upper-structure is hanging,” +he says. +</p> +<p>“Can’t you send someone over on foot, with a flag, +or torpedoes?” +</p> +<p>“There are no torpedoes at the bridge house, and +there’s not time to send them down. As to flagging—look +at the mist over the whole valley bottom,” +said the despatcher pointing. “Except directly opposite, +where the wind between the hills breaks it up at +times, the engineer couldn’t see three feet ahead of +him.” +</p> +<p>The superintendent gripped his hands convulsively. +Suddenly he turned to Alex. “Ward, can’t you suggest +something?” he appealed. “You have always +shown resource in emergencies.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span></p> +<p>“I have been trying to think of something, sir. +But, as the chief says, even if we could get a man +across the bridge, what could he do? I was down by +the river yesterday morning, and the haze was like +a blind wall.” +</p> +<p>“Couldn’t a fire be built on the tracks?” +</p> +<p>“Not quickly enough, sir. Everything is soaking +wet.” +</p> +<p>The superintendent strode up and down helplessly. +“And of course it had to happen after the Riverside +Park station had closed for the season,” he said bitterly. +“If we had had an operator there we—” +</p> +<p>The interruption was a cry from Alex. “I’ve +something! Oil!” +</p> +<p>He dashed for the tower wire. +</p> +<p>“What? What’s that?” cried the superintendent, +running after. +</p> +<p>“Oil on a pile of ties, or anything, sir—providing +Orr can get over the bridge,” Alex explained hurriedly +as he whirled off the letters of Jack’s call. The official +dropped into the chair beside him. +</p> +<p>“I, I, TR,” answered Jack. +</p> +<p>“OR, have you any oil in the tower?” shot Alex. +</p> +<p>“No, but there’s some in the lamp-shed just below.” +</p> +<p>“Look here, could you possibly get across the +bridge?” +</p> +<p>“I might manage it. There is a rail bicycle in the +lamp-house. If the rails are hanging together perhaps +I could shoot over with that. Why?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span></p> +<p>“46 is due in twenty minutes, and apparently we +have no way of stopping her except through you.” +</p> +<p>“Why, certainly I’ll risk it,” buzzed the sounder. +“I suppose the oil is to make a quick blaze, to flag +her?” Jack added, catching Alex’s idea. +</p> +<p>“That’s it. Make it just this side of the Riverside +Park station.” +</p> +<p>“OK! Here goes!” +</p> +<p>“Good luck,” sent Alex, with a sudden catch in his +throat, as he realized the danger his chum was so +cheerfully running. “God help him!” added the +superintendent fervently. +</p> +<p>Jack, in the distant tower, took little time to think +of the danger himself. Catching up a lantern and +lighting it, he was quickly out and down the tower +steps, and running for the nearby shed. Fortunately +it was unlocked. Darting in, he found a large can of +oil. Carrying it out to the main-line track, he returned, +and hurriedly dragged forth the yard lamp-man’s +rail bicycle—a three-wheeled affair, with the +seat and gear of an ordinary bicycle. +</p> +<p>Swinging the little car onto the rails, he placed the +oil can on the platform between the arms, swung the +lantern over the handlebars, mounted, and was off, +pedalling with all his might. +</p> +<p>As he speedily neared the down-grade of the bridge +approach, and the roar of the flood met him in full +force, Jack for the first time began to realize the +danger of his mission. But with grimly set lips, he +refused to think of it, and pedalled ahead determinedly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p> +<p>He topped the grade, and below him was a solid +roof of mist, only the bridge towers showing. +</p> +<p>Apprehensively, but without hesitation, he sped +downward. The first dampness of the vapor struck +him. The next moment he was lost in a blinding wall +of white. He could not see the rails. +</p> +<p>On he pedalled with bowed head. Suddenly came +a roar beneath him. He was over the water. +</p> +<p>Jack’s occasional views from the tower had shown +him where the bridge was shattered; and for some +distance he continued ahead at a good speed. Then +judging he was nearing the wrecked portion, he +slowed down and went on very slowly, peering before +him with straining eyes, and listening sharply for a +note in the tumult of water below which might tell +of the broken timbers and twisted iron. +</p> +<p>It came, a roar of swirling, choking and gurgling. +Simultaneously there was a trembling of the rails beneath +him. +</p> +<p>He was on the shattered span. +</p> +<p>At a crawl Jack proceeded. The vibration became +more violent. On one side the track began to dip. +Momentarily Jack hesitated, and paused. At once +came a picture of the train rushing toward him, and +conquering his fear, he went on. +</p> +<p>Suddenly the track swayed violently, then dipped +sharply sideways. With a cry Jack sprang off backwards, +and threw himself flat on his face on the sleepers. +Trembling, deafened by the roar of the cataract +just beneath him, he lay afraid to move, believing +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +the swaying structure would give way every instant. +But finally the rails steadied, and partly righted; and +regaining his courage, Jack rose to his knees, and began +working his way forward from tie to tie, pushing +the bicycle ahead of him. +</p> +<p>Presently the rails became steadier. Cautiously he +climbed back into the saddle, and slowly at first, then +with quickly increasing speed and rising hope, pushed +on. The vibration decreased, the track again became +even and firm. Suddenly at last the thunder of the +river passed from below him, and he was safely across. +</p> +<p>A few yards from the bridge, and still in the mist, +Jack peered down to see that the oil can was safe. +He caught his breath. Reaching out, he felt about +the little platform with his foot. +</p> +<p>Yes; it was gone! The tipping of the car had sent +it into the river. +</p> +<p>As the significance of its loss burst upon him, and +he thought of the peril he had come through to no +purpose, Jack sat upright in the saddle, and the tears +welled to his eyes. +</p> +<p>Promptly, however, came remembrance of the +Riverside Park station, a mile ahead of him. Perhaps +there was oil there! +</p> +<p>Clenching his teeth, and bending low over the handlebars, +Jack shot on, determined to fight it out to +the finish. +</p> +<p>Meantime, at the main office the entire staff, including +the superintendent, the chief despatcher and Alex, +were crowded in the western windows, watching, waiting +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +and listening. Shortly after Alex had announced +Jack’s departure a suppressed shout had greeted the +tiny light of his lantern on the bridge approach, and +a subdued cheer of good luck had followed him as +he had disappeared into the wall of mist. +</p> +<p>Then had succeeded a painful silence, while all eyes +were fixed anxiously on the spot opposite where a light +west wind, blowing down through a cut in the hills, +occasionally lifted the blanket of fog and dimly disclosed +the river bank and track. +</p> +<p>Minute after minute passed, however, and Jack did +not reappear. The silence became ominous. +</p> +<p>“Surely he should be over by this time, and we +should have had a glimpse of his light,” said the chief. +“Unless—” +</p> +<p>An electrifying cry of “There he is!” interrupted +him, and all momentarily saw a tiny, twinkling light, +and a small dark figure shooting along the distant +track. +</p> +<p>A moment after the buzz of excited hope as suddenly +died. From the north came a long, low-pitched +“Too—oo, too—oo, oo, oo!” +</p> +<p>The train! +</p> +<p>“How far up, Allen?” +</p> +<p>“Three miles.” +</p> +<p>The superintendent groaned. “He’ll never do it! +He’ll never do it! She’ll be at the bridge in five +minutes!” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +<a name='linki_24' id='linki_24'></a> +<img src='images/illus-271.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +JACK ROSE TO HIS KNEES, AND BEGAN WORKING HIS WAY<br /> +FORWARD FROM TIE TO TIE. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span></div> +<p>“No; Broad is careful,” declared the chief, referring +to the engineer of the coming train. “He won’t +keep up that speed when he strikes the worst of the +fog. There are eight or ten minutes yet.” +</p> +<p>Again came the long, mellow notes of the big engine, +whistling a crossing. +</p> +<p>“Who’s that?” said Alex suddenly, half turning +from the window. The next moment with a cry of +“He’s at the station! Orr’s at the Park station!” +he darted to the calling instruments, and shot back an +answer. The rest rushed after, and crowded about +him. +</p> +<p>“I’m at the Park station,” whirled the sounder. +“I broke in. I lost the oil can on the bridge. There +is no oil here. What shall I do?” +</p> +<p>As the chief read off the excited words to the superintendent, +the official sank limply and hopelessly into +a chair. +</p> +<p>“But might there not be some there, somewhere? +Who would know, Mr. Allen?” +</p> +<p>At Alex’s words the chief spun about. “McLaren, +call Flanagan on the ’phone!” he cried. “Quick!” +</p> +<p>The operator sprang to the telephone, and in intense +silence the party waited. +</p> +<p>He got the number. +</p> +<p>“Hello! Is Flanagan there? +</p> +<p>“Say, is there any oil across the river at the Park +station? +</p> +<p>“For Heavens sake, don’t ask questions! Is +there?” +</p> +<p>“Yes; he says there’s a half barrel in the shed +behind,” reported the operator. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span></p> +<p>Alex’s hand shot back to the key. +</p> +<p>At the first dot he paused. +</p> +<p>Through the open window came a whistle, strong +and clear. +</p> +<p>The chief threw up his hands. Alex himself sank +back in his chair, helplessly. +</p> +<p>Suddenly he again started forward. +</p> +<p>“I have it!” +</p> +<p>With the sharp words he again grasped the key, +and while those about him listened with bated breath +he sent like a flash, “Jack, there’s a barrel of oil in +the shed at the rear. Knock the head in, spill it, and +set a match to it. +</p> +<p><i>“Burn the station!”</i> +</p> +<p>The chief and the operators gasped, then with one +accord set up a shout and darted back for the windows. +The superintendent, told of the message, +rushed after. +</p> +<p>In absolute silence all fixed their eyes on the spot +a mile up the river where lay the little summer depot. +</p> +<p>Once more came the long-drawn “Too—oo, too—oo, +oo, oo!” for a crossing. +</p> +<p>“The next’ll tell,” said the chief tensely—“for +the crossing this side of the station, or—” +</p> +<p>It came. It was the crossing. +</p> +<p>But the next instant from the mist shot up a lurid +flare. From the windows rose a cry. Higher leaped +the flames. And suddenly across the quiet morning +air came a long series of quick sharp toots. Again +they came—then the short, sharp note for brakes. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +<a name='linki_25' id='linki_25'></a> +<img src='images/illus-275.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +WITH THE SHARP WORDS HE AGAIN GRASPED THE KEY. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span></div> +<p>And the boys and the flames had won! +</p> +<p>The superintendent turned and held out his hand. +“Ward, thank you,” he said huskily. “Thank you. +You are a genuine railroader.” +</p> +<p>“And—about the station?” queried Alex, a sudden +apprehension in his face and voice. For the moment +the crisis was past he had realized with dismay +that he had issued the unprecedented order for the +burning of the station entirely on his own responsibility. +</p> +<p>“The station?” The superintendent laughed. +“My boy, that was the best part of it. That was the +generalship of it. There was no time to ask, only act. +The fraction of a second might have lost the train. +</p> +<p>“No; that is just why I say you are a genuine +railroader—the burning of the station was a piece of +the finest kind of railroading! +</p> +<p>“And this reminds me,” added the superintendent +some minutes later, leading Alex aside and speaking +in a lower voice. “We expect to start construction +on the Yellow Creek branch in six weeks, and will be +wanting an ‘advance guard’ of three or four heady, +resourceful operators with the construction train, or +on ahead. Would you like to go? and your friend +Orr? There’ll be plenty of excitement before we are +through.” +</p> +<p>“I’d like nothing better, sir, or Orr either, I +know,” declared Alex with immediate interest. “But +where will the excitement come in, sir?” +</p> +<p>“You have heard the talk of the K. & Z. also running +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +a line to the new gold field from Red Deer? And +that they were held up by right-of-way trouble? +Well, we have just learned that that was all a bluff; +that they have been quietly making preparations, and +are about to start construction almost immediately. +And you see what that means?” +</p> +<p>“A race for the Yellow pass?” +</p> +<p>“A race—and more than that. Did you ever read +of the great war between the Santa Fe and the Rio +Grande for the Grand Canyon of Colorado? Regularly +organized bands of fighting men on either side, +and pitched battles? Well, I don’t anticipate matters +coming to that point between us and the K. & Z., but +I wouldn’t be surprised if it came near it before we +are through. The lines traverse wild country, and the +K. & Z. people have men in their construction department +who would pull up track or cut wires as soon as +light a pipe. In the latter case they would cut at +critical times. There is where an operator with a head +for difficulties might prove invaluable.” +</p> +<p>“I would be more than glad to tackle it, sir,” agreed +Alex enthusiastically. +</p> +<p>“Very well then. You may consider yourself, and +your friend Orr, appointed. And if you know of anyone +else of the same brand, you might suggest him,” +the superintendent concluded. +</p> +<p>“I don’t think I do, sir—at the moment,” Alex +responded. +</p> +<p>The week succeeding brought Alex a suggestion. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_WILSON_AGAIN_DISTINGUISHES_HIMSELF' id='XVII_WILSON_AGAIN_DISTINGUISHES_HIMSELF'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +<h2>XVII</h2> +<h3>WILSON AGAIN DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was decidedly warm the following Monday noon +at Bonepile, and Wilson Jennings, his coat off, +but wearing the fancy Mexican sombrero that the +Bar-O cowmen had given him, sat in the open window +to catch the breeze that blew through from the rear. +From the window Wilson could not see the wagon-trail +toward the hills to the west. Thus was it that the +low thud of hoofs first told him of someone’s hurried +approach. +</p> +<p>Starting to his feet, he stepped to the end of the +platform. At sight of a horseman coming toward him +at full speed, and leading a second horse, saddled, but +riderless, Wilson gazed in surprise. Wonder increased +when as the rider drew nearer he recognized Muskoka +Jones, the big Bar-O cowman. +</p> +<p>“What is it, Muskoka?” he shouted as the ponies +approached. +</p> +<p>The cow-puncher pulled up all-standing within a +foot of the platform. +</p> +<p>“There’s been an explosion at the Pine Lode, kid, +and ten men are bottled up somewhere in the lower +level. Two men got in through a small hole—the +mouth of the mine is blocked—and one of them is +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +tapping on the iron pump-pipe. Bartlett, the mine +boss, thinks it may be telegraph ticking—that maybe +Young knows something about that. Will you come +up and listen? +</p> +<p>“You see, if they knew what was what inside, +they’d know what they could do. They are afraid +to blast the big rock that’s blocking the mouth for +fear of bringing loosened stuff down on the men who +have been caught.” +</p> +<p>Wilson was running for the station door. “I’ll +explain to the despatcher,” he shouted over his shoulder. +</p> +<p>“I, I, X,” responded the despatcher. +</p> +<p>“There has been an explosion at the Pine Lode +mine,” sent Wilson rapidly, “and a man has been sent +to take me there to try and read some tapping from +the men inside. Can you give 144 and the Mail clearance +from Q and let me go up?” +</p> +<p>“Some tapping? What—Oh, I understand. OK! +Go ahead,” ticked the despatcher. “Get back as soon +as possible.” +</p> +<p>“I will.” +</p> +<p>“All right, Muskoke,” cried Wilson, hastening +forth, struggling into his coat as he ran. +</p> +<p>“Get round thar,” shouted the cowboy, swinging +the spare pony to the platform. Wilson went into the +saddle with a neat bound. +</p> +<p>“Say, you’ve seen a hoss before, kid,” observed +Muskoka with surprise as he threw over the reins. +</p> +<p>“Sure I have. Used to spend my summer vacations +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +on a farm. Can ride a bit standing up,” said +Wilson, with pride. +</p> +<p>They swung their animals about together, and were +off on the jump. As the two ponies stretched out to +their full stride the cowboy eyed Wilson’s easy seat +with approval. “Well, kid,” he observed after a moment’s +silence, “next time I come across a dude I’ll +git him to do his tricks before I brand him. I don’t +see but what you sit about as good as I do.” +</p> +<p>Wilson’s pleased smile gave place to gravity as he +returned to the subject of the explosion. “When did +it happen?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Early this morning. Just after the men went in. +They’re not sure, but think it was powder stored +at the foot of the shaft down to the lower level. The +main lead of the Pine Lode, you know, runs straight +into the mountain, not down; and the shaft to the +lower level is a ways in. We heard the noise at the +Bar-O. +</p> +<p>“There’s nothing much to see, or do, though,” the +cowman added as they raced along neck and neck. +“A big rock just over the entrance came down, and +when they got the dirt away they found it had bottled +the thing up like a cork. It’s that they are afraid to +blast until they know how the men are fixed inside. +Hoover and Young got in through a small hole at the +top, Hoover about half an hour before Young. He +started tapping on the pipe too, then stopped. They +don’t know what happened to him.” +</p> +<p>Twenty minutes’ hard riding brought them to the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +foothills. Still at the gallop the ponies were urged +up a winding rocky trail, and finally a tall black chimney +and a group of rough buildings came into view. +</p> +<p>“There it is,” said the cowboy, indicating a ledge +just above. +</p> +<p>As they went forward, still at full speed, Wilson +gazed toward the mine entrance with some astonishment. +Mine disasters he had always thought of as +scenes of great excitement—people running to and +fro, wringing their hands, excited crowds held back +by ropes, and men calling and shouting. Here, about +a spot but little distinguished from the rest of the +rocky, sparsely-treed mountain side, was gathered a +group of perhaps fifty men, some sitting on beams and +rocks, others moving quietly about, all smoking. +</p> +<p>On their being discovered, however, there was a +stir, and as Muskoka and the boy dismounted at the +foot of a rough path and ascended there was a general +movement of the miners and cowmen to meet them. +</p> +<p>“I got him,” Muskoka announced briefly to a +grizzle-haired man who met them at the top. “This +is Bartlett, the mine boss,” he said to Wilson by way +of introduction. The boss nodded. +</p> +<p>“The tapping’s going on yet, is it, Joe?” +</p> +<p>“No. It’s stopped, just like Hoover’s did,” was +the gloomy response. “And just when we were getting +onto it ourselves.” +</p> +<p>The speaker held up a small board pencilled with +figures and letters. “Redding there hit on the idea +that maybe Young was knocking out the numbers of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +letters in the alphabet, and we made this table, and +just found out we had it right when the tapping +stopped. That was twenty minutes ago, and we +haven’t had another knock since.” +</p> +<p>“Let’s see it. What did you get?” +</p> +<p>“There—‘20, 7, 5, 20, 21, 16‘—’T G E T U P.’ +Something about ‘can’t get up,’ we figured it. But +it’s not enough to be of any use. +</p> +<p>“And there’s not another man here can wriggle +in through the hole,” went on the boss, turning toward +the great rock which sealed the mouth of the mine. +“A dozen of ’em tried it, and Redding got stuck so +we had to get a rope on him. Nearly pulled his legs +off.” +</p> +<p>Wilson made his way forward and examined the +strangely blocked entrance. The small hole referred +to was a triangular-shaped opening about a foot in +height and some sixteen inches in width, apparently +just at the roof of the gallery. Some minutes Wilson +stood studying it, pondering. Finally he turned about +with an air of decision and returned to Muskoka and +the mine boss. +</p> +<p>“I have a plan,” he announced. “If you will go +back to the station again, Muskoke, I’ll send for another +operator, and go in the mine myself. Two +operators could talk backwards and forwards easily on +the piping. And—” +</p> +<p>“But whar’s the other operator?” interrupted the +cowboy. +</p> +<p>“There is a freight due at the station in about +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +twenty-five minutes. I can give you a message to +hand the engineer for the operator at Ledges, the next +station—a message asking the despatcher to send the +Ledges operator down on the Mail. Someone could +wait for him, and if there is no hitch he’d be here +inside of an hour and a half.” +</p> +<p>“That’ll work!” exclaimed the boss. “That’s it! +You’ll go, Muskoke?” +</p> +<p>“Sartenly. I’ll get a fresh hoss, and wait fer him +myself.” Wilson, finding an envelope in his pocket, +dropped to a boulder and began writing. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“W. B. J., Exeter,” he scribbled. “Am at the +mine. The tapping has stopped. No one else can go +in, so I am going myself. Please send down operator +from Ledges to read my tapping if I am unable to +return. +</p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Jennings.</span>” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“Redding! Whar’s Red?” shouted Muskoka as +he folded the message. +</p> +<p>“Here. What?” +</p> +<p>“I’m going back to the station for another operator. +I’m going to take your Johnny hoss. Mine’s +blowed.” +</p> +<p>“Sure yes,” agreed the owner, and with a “Good +luck, kid,” Muskoka was clattering down the path. +</p> +<p>“Now, Mr. Bartlett, will you please explain the +plan of things inside; just how the tunnel runs?” +requested Wilson. +</p> +<p>“Have a seat and I’ll draw it,” said the boss, setting +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +the example. He turned the board bearing the +fragmentary message, and Wilson dropped down beside +him. +</p> +<p>“The main gallery, the old lead, runs straight in, +at about this dip down,” he said, drawing as he spoke. +“Runs back 550 feet, and ends. That was where the +old lead petered out. +</p> +<p>“Here, about 200 feet from the entrance, is a vertical +shaft, 90 feet, that we put down to pick up the old +Pine-Knot lead. It’s from the foot of that the new +gallery, the lower level, starts. It slopes off just under +the old lead—so—330 feet, there’s a fault, and it +cants up 12 feet—so—then on down again at a bit +sharper dip, nearly 600 feet; then another fault and +a drop, and about 50 feet more. +</p> +<p>“It’s down there at the end we think most of the +men have been caught, but some may have been near +the shaft. The pumping-pipe where Hoover and +Young must have been tapping is here, half way between +the first and second faults, where it comes down +through a boring from the old gallery. It must have +been at that point, because we had disconnected two +leaking sections just below there only this morning.” +</p> +<p>“How do you get down the shaft to the lower +level?” Wilson asked. +</p> +<p>“There was a ladder, but it was smashed by the +explosion. Hoover, the first man in, came out for +a rope, so I suppose that’s there now. Young must +have gone down by it. +</p> +<p>“Hoover also reported that the roof of the old gallery +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +was in bad shape just over the shaft. That’s the +particular reason we are afraid to blast the rock here +until we know whether any of the men were caught +at the bottom of the pit.” +</p> +<p>Wilson arose and began removing his collar. +“How about water, Mr. Bartlett, since the pump is +not working?” he inquired. +</p> +<p>“Unless the explosion tapped new water, there’ll +be no danger for twenty-four hours at least. But if +the drain channel of the lower gallery has been filled +the floor will be very slippery,” the mine boss added. +“It’s slate, and we left it smooth, as a runway for +the ore boxes.” +</p> +<p>As the young operator removed his spotless collar—one +similar to that which had so aroused the cowmen’s +derision on his first day at Bonepile—without +a smile one of the very men who had formed the +“welcoming committee” that day rubbed his hands +on his shirt, took it carefully, and placed it on a clean +plank. +</p> +<p>“You’ll want a lamp. Somebody give the boy a +cap and lamp,” the boss directed. A dozen of the +miners whipped off caps with attached lamps, and +trying several, Wilson found one to fit. Then, buttoning +his coat and turning up the collar, he made his +way to the rock-sealed entrance, and climbed up to +the narrow opening. +</p> +<p>“I’ll tap as soon as I reach the pipe,” he said. “So +long!” and without more ado crawled head first within +and disappeared. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></p> +<p>The lamp on his cap lighting up the narrow trough-like +tunnel, Wilson easily wormed his way forward +ten or twelve feet. Then the passage contracted and +became broken and twisted. However, given confidence +by the knowledge that others had passed +through, Wilson squeezed on, there presently came a +widening of the hole, then a black opening, and with +a final effort he found himself projecting into the +black depths of the empty gallery. +</p> +<p>Below him the debris sloped to the floor. Pulling +himself free, he slid and scrambled down, and quickly +was on his feet, breathing with relief. Only pausing +to brush some of the dust from his clothes, Wilson +hastened forward. +</p> +<p>Two hundred feet distant a windlass took shape in +the obscurity. He reached it, and the black opening +of the shaft to the lower level was at his feet. Looking, +he found the rope the mine boss had spoken of. +It was secured to one of the windlass supports, and +disappeared into the depths on the opposite side of +the pit. Directly below was the shattered wreck of +the ladder. +</p> +<p>Leaning over, Wilson shouted, “Hello! Hello!” +The words crashed and echoed in the shaft and about +him, but there was no reply. Once more he shouted, +then resolutely suppressing his instinctive shrinking, +he made his way about to the rope, carefully lowered +himself, and began descending hand under hand. +</p> +<p>Wilson had not gone far when with apprehension +he found the rope becoming wet and slippery with +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +drip from the rocks above. Despite a tightened grip +his hands began to slip. In alarm he wound his feet +about the rope. Still he slipped. To dry a hand on +his sleeve, he freed it. Instantly with a cry he found +himself shooting downward. He clutched with +hands, feet and knees, but onward he plunged. In +the light of his lamp the jagged broken timbers of +the shoring shot up by him. He would be dashed to +pieces. +</p> +<p>But desperately he fought, and at last got the rope +clamped against the corner of a heel, and the speed +was retarded. A moment after he landed with an +impact that broke his hold on the rope and sent him +in a heap on his back. +</p> +<p>Rising, Wilson thankfully discovered he had escaped +injury other than a few bruises, and gazed +about him. At first sight he appeared to be in the +bottom of a well filled with broken water-soaked timbers +and gray, dripping rock. He knew there must +be an exit, however, and set about looking for it, at +the same time listening and watching shrinkingly for +signs of anyone buried in the heap of stone and timber. +Not a sound save the monotonous drip of seeping +water was to be heard, however, and presently behind +a shield of planking he located the black mouth of a +small opening. +</p> +<p>Dropping to his knees, he crawled through, and +stood upright in a downward sloping gallery similar +to that above—the “lower level.” +</p> +<p>Once more he shouted. “Hello! Hello!” The +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +clashing echoes died away without response, and he +started forward. +</p> +<p>Scarcely had he taken a half dozen steps when without +warning his feet shot from under him and he went +down on his back with a crash, barely saving his head +with his hands. The smooth hard rock was as slippery +as ice from the water flowing over it. Wondering +if this icy declivity had anything to do with the failure +of Hoover and Young to return, Wilson arose and +went on more cautiously. +</p> +<p>As he proceeded the walking became more and more +treacherous. Several times he again went down, +saving himself by sinking onto his outstretched +hands. +</p> +<p>On rising from one of these falls Wilson discovered +something which sent him ahead with new concern. +A few yards farther he halted with an exclamation on +the brink of a yellow stretch of water that met the +gallery roof twenty feet beyond him. +</p> +<p>Blankly he gazed at it. Then he recalled the +“fault” the mine boss had spoken of—an abrupt +rise of the gallery twelve feet. This must be it. Its +drain had choked, and filled it with water. +</p> +<p>But both Hoover and Young had passed it! The +pipe they had tapped upon was beyond. They must +have waded boldly in, dove or ducked down, and come +up on the other side. At the thought of following +them in this Wilson drew back. Had he not better +return? +</p> +<p>Could he, though? Could he ascend a rope down +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +which he had been unable to prevent himself sliding? +The answer was obvious. +</p> +<p>Desperately Wilson decided to venture the water, +to reach those he now knew were on the other side, +and the pumping-pipe. In preparation he first securely +wrapped the matches he carried in notepaper taken +from an envelope, and placed them in the top of the +miner’s hat. Then removing his shoes, to give him +firmer footing, he stepped into the yellow pool and +carefully made his way forward. Six feet from the +point at which the water met the top of the gallery +the water was up to his chin, and he saw he must swim +for it, and dive. Without pause, lest he should lose +his nerve, he struck out, reached the roof, took a deep +breath, and ducked down. +</p> +<p>Three quick, hard strokes, and he arose, and with +a gasp found himself at the surface again. A few +strokes onward in the darkness, and his hands met +a rough wall, over which the water was draining as +over the brink of a dam. +</p> +<p>At the same moment a sound of dull blows reached +his ears. Spluttering and blinking, Wilson drew himself +up. A shout broke from him. Far distant and +below was a point of light. +</p> +<p>“Hello!” he cried. Immediately came a chorus of +response, as though many were excitedly shouting at +once. Unable to distinguish anything from the jangle +of echoes, Wilson cried back, “Are you all safe?” +</p> +<p>Again came the clashing, incomprehensible shout. +</p> +<p>“I’m coming down,” he called, though not sure +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +that they heard him. Producing the matches from the +crown of the hat, he found they had come through +dry, and after some difficulty lighting one against the +side of another, he re-lit the lamp. While at this, +voices continued to come up to him, evidently shouting +something. But try as he could he was unable +to make out what was said. It was all a reverberating +clamor, as though a hundred people were talking at +once. +</p> +<p>As the lamp spluttered up, after the ducking which +had extinguished it, Wilson gazed down the gallery +before him with a touch of new dismay. The water +was flowing over it in a thin, glossy coat, and it was +considerably steeper than on the outer side of the fault. +Apparently the only thing to do was to slide. +</p> +<p>Working about into a sitting position, facing down +the slope, with feet spread out, as though steering a +sleigh, Wilson allowed himself to go. The rapidity +with which he gained momentum startled him. Soon +the gray damp walls were passing upward like a glistening +mist. With difficulty he kept his feet foremost. +</p> +<p>Meantime the voices from below had continued +shouting. Onward he slid, and the sounds became +clearer. At last the words came to him. They were, +“The pipe! The pipe! Catch the pump-pipe!” Then +Wilson suddenly recollected that the pipe was but half +way down the slope. +</p> +<p>Digging with his heels he sought to slow up, gazing +first at one flitting wall, then the other. On the right +a vertical streak of black appeared. He clutched with +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +heels and hands, and sought to steer toward it. He +swept nearer, and reached with outstretched hand. +The effort swung him sideways, his fingers just grazed +the iron, and twisting about, he shot downward head +first at greater speed than ever. A moment after there +was a chorus of shouts, a sharp cry in his ears, an +impact, a rolling and tumbling, a second crash, and +Wilson felt himself dragged to his feet. +</p> +<p>About him, in a single flickering light, was a group +of strange faces. While he gazed, dazed, rubbing a +bruised head, all talked excitedly, even angrily. +</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you hang on, you idiot?” demanded +a voice. +</p> +<p>“Who is it, anyway? It’s a stranger!” +</p> +<p>“And a boy!” said another. +</p> +<p>Wilson recovered his scattered wits, and quickly explained +who he was and what he had come for. Immediately +there was a joyful shout. “We’ll be out +inside of an hour!” cried one. +</p> +<p>“But how am I going to get up to the pipe?” demanded +Wilson. +</p> +<p>“We are cutting footholds up the incline. +</p> +<p>“White, get back on the job,” directed the speaker, +who Wilson later learned was the fire-boss. +</p> +<p>“You brought him down with you,” he added, to +the boy. +</p> +<p>The man spoken to began creeping up the water-covered +slope dragging a pick, and Wilson turned to +look about him. The eleven men in the party, not including +the man on the slope, were crowded together +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +on the level floor of what evidently was the lower +fault of the lead. From the darkness beyond came the +sound of water trickling to a lower level. +</p> +<p>“Are all here, and no one hurt?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Hoover and Young, and everybody, and not one +scratched,” responded the fire-boss. “You were the +one nearest hurt. +</p> +<p>“You were a mighty plucky youngster,” he added, +“to come through that water up there.” +</p> +<p>Wilson interrupted a chorus of hearty assent. +“What happened to Hoover and Young at the +pipe?” he inquired. “That mystified everybody outside.” +</p> +<p>“They both caught it coming down, but Hoover +lost his hold trying to change hands for tapping, and +Young dropped the knife he was knocking with, and +slipped fishing for it,” the fire-boss explained. +</p> +<p>Meantime at the entrance to the mine, a half hour +having passed without a knocking on the pipe to announce +the arrival inside of the young operator, anxiety +began to be felt for his safety also. When another +half hour had passed, and there was still no response +to frequent tappings of inquiry, the mine-boss, Bartlett, +began to stride up and down before the blocked +entrance. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to go in,” +he muttered repeatedly. “He was only a boy.” +</p> +<p>When at length Muskoka Jones reappeared on the +scene, and with him the operator from Ledges, Bartlett +met them with a gloomy face. At that very moment, +however, there was a shout from the men +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +gathered about the pumping-pipe. “He’s knocking!” +cried a voice. +</p> +<p>Bartlett, Muskoka and the Ledges operator went +forward on the run. The latter dropped to his knees +and placed his ear to the pipe. At the quick smile of +comprehension which came into his face a great cheer +went up. It was immediately stilled by a gesture from +the operator, and in tense silence he caught up a +stone, tapped back a signal, then read aloud Wilson’s +strangely telegraphed words of the safety of the men +below, their situation, and the means to be taken to +reach them. +</p> +<p>And just at sunset the bedraggled but joyful, cheering +party of rescuers and rescued emerged from the +entrance—Wilson to a reception he will remember +as long as he lives. +</p> +<p>The most important result of Wilson’s courage and +resourcefulness, however, was an interview Alex Ward +had that evening at Exeter with the division superintendent. +Following a recital of Wilson’s feat at the +mine, Alex added: “You said last week, Mr. Cameron, +that I might suggest a third operator for the +Yellow Creek construction ‘advance guard’ of operators. +I’d like to suggest Jennings, sir.” +</p> +<p>“He is appointed, then,” said the superintendent. +“Go and tell him yourself.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_WITH_THE_CONSTRUCTION_TRAIN' id='XVIII_WITH_THE_CONSTRUCTION_TRAIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<h3>WITH THE CONSTRUCTION TRAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>On a newly-made siding parallel to the main-line +tracks, and in the center of a rolling vista of +yellow-brown prairie, stood a trampish-looking train +of weather-beaten passenger coaches and box-cars. +In the sides of the latter small windows had been cut, +and from the roofs projected chimneys. North of the +train, to a din of clanking, pounding and shoveling, +a throng of men were laying ties and rails, driving +spikes and tightening bolts, in the construction of +further short stretches of track. +</p> +<p>It was the Yellow Creek branch “boarding” and +construction train, and the laying of the sidings of the +newly-created Yellow Creek Junction was the first step +in the race of the Middle Western and the K. & Z., +some miles below the southern horizon, for the just-discernible +break to the southwest in the blue line of +the Dog Rib Mountains—the coveted entrance to +the new gold fields in the valley beyond. +</p> +<p>And here, the first of the construction operators +sent forward, Alex had been two days established in +the “telegraph-car.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></p> +<p>As he had anticipated, Alex was enjoying the experience +hugely. It was every bit as good as camping +out, he had declared over the wire to Jack—having +for an office a table at one end of the old freight-car, +sleeping in a shelf-like bunk at the other end, and eating +in the rough-and-ready diner with the inspectors, +foremen, time-keepers and clerks who shared the telegraph-car +with him. As well, the work going on about +him was a constant source of interest during Alex’s +spare moments. +</p> +<p>On this, the second day, Alex had been particularly +interested in the newly-arrived track-laying machine—which +did not actually lay track at all, but by means +of roller-bottomed chutes fed out a stream of rails and +ties to the men ahead of it. After supper, the wire +being silent, Alex made his way amid several trains +of track-material already filling completed sidings, for +a closer view of the big machine. +</p> +<p>There proved to be less to see than he had expected; +and having climbed aboard the pilot-car and examined +the engine, Alex ascended the tower from which a +brakeman controlled the movements of the train. +</p> +<p>On his right lay a string of flats piled high with +timbers for bridges and culverts. Glancing along +them, Alex was surprised to see a man’s head cautiously +emerge from an opening in the lumber on one +of the cars, and quickly disappear on discovering him. +A moment after he had a fleeting glimpse of the intruder +running low along the side of the train toward +the rear. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span></p> +<p>“Only a hobo,” Alex decided on second thought. +For numbers of tramps had come through on the +material-trains. And presently Alex returned to the +telegraph-car. +</p> +<p>Shortly after midnight the young operator was +awakened by someone running through the car and +shouting for Construction Superintendent Finnan. +When he caught the word “Fire!” he scrambled into +his clothes and leaped to the floor, and out. +</p> +<p>Over the tops of the cars in the direction of the +track-machine was a dancing glare. +</p> +<p>In alarm Alex joined the stream of men dropping +to the ground all along the boarding-cars. Dodging +through the intervening trains, he brought up with an +expression of relief beside, not the track-machine, but +a car of bridge material. +</p> +<p>Fanned by a brisk wind, flames were spouting from +amid the timbers at several points. Already men were +pitching the burning beams over the side, however; +and finding a shovel, Alex joined those who were +smothering them with sand. +</p> +<p>“Tramps, sure!” Alex heard another of the shovelers +remark angrily. Immediately then he recalled +the man he had seen from the track-machine +tower, and pausing in his work, he counted the cars +back. +</p> +<p>It was the same car. Yes; undoubtedly the fire was +the careless work of the tramp he had seen running +away. +</p> +<p>The force of fire fighters was rapidly augmented, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +and soon, despite the fresh breeze, the last of the burning +beams were smothered, and all danger of a general +conflagration was past. +</p> +<p>It was as Alex at last headed back for the boarding-train +that a theory other than the tramp theory of the +origin of the fire occurred to him. It came from a +sudden recollection of Division Superintendent Cameron’s +prediction of interference from the K. & Z. +“Could that be the real explanation?” he asked himself +with some excitement. +</p> +<p>The first streak of dawn found Alex again at the +scene of the fire, bent on proving or disproving the +theory of incendiarism. Climbing aboard the scorched +car, he dropped to his knees and began carefully brushing +aside the sand with which the burning floor had +been covered. +</p> +<p>A few minutes’ search produced the burned ends of +shavings! +</p> +<p>“So!—the ‘fight’ is on!” observed Alex to himself +gravely. +</p> +<p>With several of the tell-tale fragments in his pocket +Alex was about to leap to the ground when Construction +Superintendent Finnan appeared. “Good morning, +my lad. You beat me here, eh?” he said genially. +“Well, what do you make of it?” +</p> +<p>Alex sprang down beside him, and produced the +charred pine whittlings. “I found these on the bottom +of the car, sir. They don’t seem to support the careless +tramp theory, do they?” Continuing, Alex then +told of the man he had seen there the evening before. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +“Do you think it was the work of the K. & Z., sir?” +he concluded. +</p> +<p>The superintendent’s lips were drawn tight. “Yes; +I believe it was. Could you identify the man?” +</p> +<p>“I am afraid not, sir. It was getting dusk, and he +was five or six car-lengths from me, and running +stooped over. +</p> +<p>“Perhaps we could follow his footsteps down the +side of the train?” Alex suggested. +</p> +<p>“Good idea! Lead ahead. There has been a good +deal of tramping about, but we may pick them out.” +</p> +<p>Proceeding to the point several cars distant at which +he had seen the stranger on the ground, Alex moved +on slowly, carefully inspecting the freshly turned but +considerably trampled earth, the superintendent following +him. +</p> +<p>A car-length beyond, the latter suddenly paused, retraced +his steps a few feet, and pointing out three +succeeding impressions, exclaimed, “I think we have +him, Ward! See? A long step! He was running +on his toes.” +</p> +<p>Aided by the known length of the stride, they continued, +following the footprints with comparative ease. +Passing the second car from the end, they found the +steps shorten, then change to a walk. “Probably +turned in between this and the last car,” the superintendent +observed. +</p> +<p>“Yes; here they go,” announced Alex, halting at +the opening between the two flats. “He stood for a +moment, then went on through.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span></p> +<p>Alex and the superintendent followed, and continued +toward the rear of the last car. Half way Alex halted, +and with an ejaculation stooped and picked up something +white. “A small shaving, sir!” +</p> +<p>The official took it. “That decides the matter,” he +said. “Probably it was sticking to his clothes.” +</p> +<p>“He sat down here, for some time, did he not?” +Alex was pointing to a depression in the earth well +under the car, between two ties, and to the marks of +bootheels. The superintendent went to his knees and +closely examined the impressions left by the heels. +</p> +<p>“Good! Look here,” he said with satisfaction. +“The marks of spurs! Our ‘tramp’ was a horseman.” +</p> +<p>Alex turned to look about. “Where would he have +kept his horse?” +</p> +<p>Superintendent Finnan led the way beyond the cars +into the open. A mile distant, and hidden from the +boarding-train by the cars on the sidings, was a depression +in the prairie bordered with low scrub. +“We’ll have a look there,” he said. +</p> +<p>Some minutes later they stood in the bottom of the +miniature valley, beside the unmistakably fresh hoofprints +of a hobbled pony. +</p> +<p>The official was grimly silent as they retraced their +steps toward the construction-train. They had almost +reached it when Alex, who had been examining the +fragments of burned shavings, broke the silence. +“Mr. Finnan, let me see the bit of shaving we found +by the rear car, please.” There was a touch of excitement +in Alex’s voice, and the superintendent halted. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span></p> +<p>“What is it?” he asked as he produced the whittling. +</p> +<p>Alex glanced at it, and smiling, placed it beside two +of the charred fragments in his hand. “Look at these +little ridges, sir! The same knife whittled them all. +The blade had two small nicks in it. +</p> +<p>“All we have to do now, sir, is to find the owner of +the knife!” +</p> +<p>“A bright idea, Ward! Splendid!” exclaimed the +superintendent heartily. +</p> +<p>“But,” he added as they moved on, “how are we going +to find him? We can’t very well round up the whole +Dog Rib country, and hold a jack-knife inspection.” +</p> +<p>They came within sight of the bleached-out dining-cars. +Basking in the morning sun on the steps of one +of the old coaches was the figure of a young Indian, +who had come from no one knew where the first day +of their arrival, and had attached himself to the kitchen +department. +</p> +<p>Alex laid his hand on the superintendent’s arm. +“Mr. Finnan, why not try Little Hawk?” +</p> +<p>“It occurred to me just as you spoke. I will. +Right now. +</p> +<p>“You go on in to breakfast, Ward,” he directed. +“And say nothing of our suspicions or discoveries.” +</p> +<p>“Very well, sir.” +</p> +<p>The members of the telegraph-car party were leaving +for the diner as Alex appeared. +</p> +<p>“Hello, Ward! Catch the early worm?” inquired +one of the track-foremen jocularly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></p> +<p>“You mean, ‘did he shoot it?’” corrected a time-clerk. +</p> +<p>At this there was a general laugh, and glancing +about for an explanation, Alex saw Elder, Superintendent +Finnan’s personal clerk and aide de camp, +hastily remove a cartridge-belt and revolver from his +waist and toss them into his bunk. +</p> +<p>Elder was the one unpopular man in the telegraph-car. +An undersized, aggressively important individual, +just out of college, and affecting a stylish khaki +hunting-suit, natty leather leggings and a broad-brimmed +hat, he bore himself generally as though +second in importance only to the construction superintendent +himself. And naturally he had promptly been +made the butt of the party. +</p> +<p>“But you know,” gravely observed one of the inspectors, +as they took their places about the plain board +table in the dining-car, “some of these tramps are +dangerous fellows. They’d just as soon pull a gun +on you as borrow a dime. So there’s nothing like +being prepared. Particularly when one carries about +such evidence of wealth and rank as friend Elder, +here.” +</p> +<p>At the chuckles which followed the clerk bridled +angrily. +</p> +<p>“Well, anyway, Ryan,” he retorted, “I am ready +to fight if one of them interferes with me. I’ll not +stick up my hands and let him go through me, as you +did once.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, you wouldn’t, eh?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></p> +<p>“No, I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d like to see anyone +make me throw up my hands, even if I didn’t have +a revolver,” Elder went on emphatically. “I’d rather +be shot—yes, sir, I’d rather be shot than have to +think afterward that I’d been such a weak-kneed coward. +And that’s what I think of any man who would +permit a low-down tramp to go through his pockets.” +</p> +<p>Loud applause greeted these remarks, clapping, +banging of plates, and cries of “Hear, hear!” +</p> +<p>“Go it, Elder!” +</p> +<p>“Show him up!” +</p> +<p>“It’s on me. He has me labelled, OK,” admitted +Ryan with marked humility. “But then, gentlemen, +I protest it is hardly fair to compare an ordinary mortal +to so remarkably courageous a man as Elder. I +claim it is not given many men to be that fearless. +Why, ‘with half an eye,’ as the old grammars say, +you can see courage sticking out all over him.” +</p> +<p>“All right, laugh. But I never showed the white +feather to a hobo,” Elder repeated scathingly. +</p> +<p>“No; but—what is it Kipling, or Shakespeare, +says?—‘While there’s life there’s soap?’” observed +Ryan, a sudden twinkle appearing in his eye. +</p> +<p>The inspector explained the meaning of his facetiously +garbled quotation when Elder left the table. +The proposal he made was greeted with enthusiasm. +</p> +<p>Work had been started on the branch road itself that +morning, and on returning to the telegraph-car at noon +the superintendent’s clerk found most of the party there +before him, preparing for dinner. An animated debate +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +which was in progress ceased as he entered, and +someone exclaimed, “Here he is now. He’d soon +straighten them up.” +</p> +<p>“What is the trouble, men?” inquired Elder, with +the air of a sergeant-major. +</p> +<p>“Our two head-spikers had a disagreement this +morning, and have gone across the yards to settle it,” +explained one of the time-keepers through his towel. +“Couldn’t you go after them, and interfere? They +may put each other out of commission. Refused to +listen to me or the foreman.” +</p> +<p>“The childish idiots! Certainly,” agreed Elder, +turning back to the door. “Which way did they +go?” +</p> +<p>“Straight across the yard. But hadn’t you better +take your gun?” the time-clerk suggested. “They +are a pair of pretty tough customers.” +</p> +<p>“Well—perhaps I had, since you mention it,” Elder +responded. Going to his bunk, he secured and +buckled on the belt, drew the revolver from its holster +to examine it, and set forth grimly. As he disappeared +the men in the car broke into barely-subdued +splutterings of laughter, and crowding to the door, +waited expectantly. +</p> +<p>With an air of responsibility and determination the +clerk made his way between the adjacent cars. There +were six tracks filled with the long trains of construction +material. He had passed the fifth, and was stooping +beneath the couplings of two flats beyond, when +from the other side he heard footsteps. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span></p> +<p>One hand on the butt of his revolver, he leaped +forth. Uttering a choking cry he sprang back. +Within a foot of his eyes were the barrels of two big +Colt’s-pistols, and looking over the tops of them was +a villainous handkerchief-masked face. +</p> +<p>“Hands up!” ordered the tramp hoarsely. +</p> +<p>Elder’s hands flew into the air. Immediately, despite +his fright, there returned a remembrance of his +boast that morning. He half made as though to bring +his hands down. Instantly the cold muzzles of the +pistols were pressed close beneath his nose. With a +wild flutter Elder’s fingers shot upward to their fullest +stretch. +</p> +<p>“Come out!” ordered the tramp. +</p> +<p>Quaking, and almost on tiptoes in his effort to keep +his hands aloft, Elder obeyed. Lowering one of the +pistols and thrusting it into his belt, the tramp reached +forward and secured the clerk’s revolver, dropping it +to the ground beneath his feet. +</p> +<p>“Now, Mr. Superintendent,” he ordered gruffly, +“hand over your roll!” +</p> +<p>“Why, I’m not the superintendent,” quavered Elder +hopefully. “I am—only a clerk.” +</p> +<p>“Clerk nothing! Don’t you think I know a superintendent +when I see one? Out with those yellowbacks +you drew yesterday, or by gum—” The pistol +was again thrust under his nose, and Elder blanched. +</p> +<p>“But I’m not the superintendent! Honestly I’m +not!” he protested. “I’m only a clerk. And I only +get—only get—” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></p> +<p>“Yes, come on! You only get?” thundered the +tramp. +</p> +<p>“I only get thirty-five dollars a month,” whispered +the clerk. +</p> +<p>“Only thirty-five bones a month? Well, by gum!” +The tramp looked the shrinking clerk over with unspeakable +contempt. “Why, there ain’t a Dago +shoveler in the outfit doesn’t get more than that! +</p> +<p>“Very well, then,” he conceded loftily. “You can +keep your coppers. I never let it be said I rob the +poor. +</p> +<p>“But I tell you what I will have,” he went on suddenly. +“Them clothes are sure too good for any +man not getting as much money as a Dago. These,” +indicating his own tattered and grimy garments, “are +more in your line. Come on! Peel off!” +</p> +<p>The trimly-dressed clerk stared aghast. +</p> +<p>“You surely—don’t mean—” +</p> +<p>“I surely DO mean! <i>Shell off!</i>” roared the tramp. +</p> +<p>And utterly beyond belief as it was, ten minutes +later Elder was surveying himself in the unspeakable +rags of the hobo, and the latter, before him, was ridiculously +attired in his own natty, smaller garments. +</p> +<p>Having then removed Elder’s fancy Stetson and +clamped his own greasy and battered christy down to +the clerk’s ears, the tramp had one further humiliation. +Pointing to a clump of black, oily waste hanging from +a nearby axle-box, he ordered, “Pull out a bunch of +that!” +</p> +<p>Slowly, wondering, Elder did so. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p> +<p>“No one would believe you were a genuine hobo +with such a scandalously clean face as that. Rub the +waste over it,” commanded the tramp. +</p> +<p>This was too much. Blindly Elder turned to escape. +Instantly both pistols were once more at his head. And +in final abject surrender he slowly rubbed the black +car-grease upon his cheeks. +</p> +<p>“Very good. A little on the forehead now,” directed +the relentless tramp. “Now the ears. +</p> +<p>“<i>Go on!</i>... Very good. +</p> +<p>“Now you may go.” +</p> +<p>Frantically Elder spun about and dove between the +cars. As he did so, behind him roared out six quick +pistol shots. +</p> +<p>Blindly he scrambled under the next train. Shouts +rose ahead of him. “Help, help!” he cried. +“Tramps! Tramps! Help!” +</p> +<p>From the boarding-cars broke out a hubbub of excitement. +“Tramps! Tramps!” he shrilled, scuttling +beneath the third train. +</p> +<p>On the other side he suddenly pulled up. He had +forgotten his outlandish appearance! What if— +</p> +<p>Men sprang into view from between the cars farther +down. “Here he is!” they shouted, instantly heading +for him. +</p> +<p>“It’s me! Elder!” cried the apparent tramp. +</p> +<p>More men appeared. “The tramp who burned the +car!” rose the cry. “Lynch him! Lynch him!” +</p> +<p>Elder dove back the way he had come. The trackmen +raced for the nearest openings, and dove after. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span></p> +<p>As Elder dashed for the next train several of his +pursuers sprang into view but a car-length away. +“Head him off! Don’t let him get away!” they +shouted. +</p> +<p>Madly Elder rushed on, darted beneath the last +string of flats, and on out into the open. +</p> +<p>A figure was approaching on horseback. He recognized +Superintendent Finnan. Uttering a cry of hope, +he headed for him. At sight of the desperately running +figure, with its grimy face and flapping rags, the +superintendent pulled up in sheer amazement. When +the stream of men broke through the train and poured +after, yelping like a pack of hounds, he urged his +horse forward. +</p> +<p>“Catch him! Stop him!” shouted the pursuers. +</p> +<p>“It’s me! Elder!” screamed the clerk. “Elder! +Elder!” +</p> +<p>A big Irishman, a pick-handle in his hand, was gaining +on the supposed tramp at every bound, roaring, +“I’ll fix ye! I’ll fix ye, ye vermin!” +</p> +<p>With a last desperate sprint the flying clerk reached +the horse and threw himself at the superintendent’s +stirrups. “It’s Elder, Mr. Finnan!” he gasped. +“Elder! Elder!” +</p> +<p>The superintendent gazed down into the blackened +face an instant, then suddenly doubled up over his +horse’s head, rocking and shaking in a convulsion of +laughter. The action saved the clerk from the Irishman. +The descending pick-handle halted in mid-air, +the wielder gazed open-mouthed at the convulsed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +official, then suddenly grasping the clerk’s head, +twisted it about, and staggered back, roaring and +shouting at the top of his lungs. As fast as the others +arrived the riot of merriment increased; and when +presently the superintendent moved on toward the +train, the crestfallen clerk still at his stirrup, they were +the center of a hilariously howling mob. +</p> +<p>The final blow came when Elder entered the telegraph-car. +Carefully laid out in his bunk were the +garments he had surrendered to the “tramp.” +</p> +<p>The incident had its final good result, however. +The mangling of Elder’s vanity disclosed an unsuspected +streak of common-sense and manliness, and a +day or so after he frankly thanked Ryan, the perpetrator +of the joke, for “having put him right.” And +finally he became one of the most popular men on the +train. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_THE_ENEMY_S_HAND_AGAIN_AND_A_CAPTURE' id='XIX_THE_ENEMY_S_HAND_AGAIN_AND_A_CAPTURE'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +<h2>XIX</h2> +<h3>THE ENEMY’S HAND AGAIN, AND A CAPTURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Good morning, Ward. Any word of the progress +made by the K. & Z.?” inquired Construction +Superintendent Finnan the following morning, +Sunday, looking into the telegraph-car. +</p> +<p>Alex threw down his towel and stepped to the instrument +table. “Yes, sir; here’s one that came late +last night. +</p> +<p>“It says they started from Red Deer yesterday +morning, and made nearly three and a half miles.” +</p> +<p>The superintendent looked somewhat glum as he +read the message. “That beats us by half a mile,” +he remarked. “If the news is reliable, that is. They +may plan to give out inflated distances, in order to discourage +us. That would be a small matter to them, +after trying to burn us out.” +</p> +<p>“There has been no sign of Little Hawk yet, sir?” +Alex inquired. +</p> +<p>“No. I am beginning to think the rascal has gone +over to the K. & Z.,” said the superintendent, turning +away. At the door he paused. “By the way, Ward, +remind me to give you a message to-morrow morning +asking for two more operators. We will have +made six or seven miles by Monday night, and will +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +be running the train down the branch. And the temporary +station is almost completed,” he added, glancing +from the window toward a box-car which had +been lifted from its trucks and placed on a foundation +of ties beside the main-line tracks. +</p> +<p>Alex promised gladly. It meant the coming of Jack +Orr and Wilson Jennings. +</p> +<p>Following breakfast, the morning being a beautiful +one, Alex determined on a walk, and set off along the +main-line to the west. Two miles distant he struck +a small bridge and a deep, dry creek-bed, and turning +south along its border, headed for the distant rail-head +of the new branch. +</p> +<p>At a bend in the creek some two hundred yards +from the track-machine and its string of flat-cars, Alex +sharply paused. Two saddled ponies were hobbled together +in the creek-bottom. Casting a glance toward +the construction-train, Alex leaped into the gully, out +of sight. +</p> +<p>He had not a doubt that the horses belonged to men +in the service of the K. & Z., and that something was +on foot similar to the attempted burning of the bridge-car. +</p> +<p>What should he do? Return the three miles to the +junction? or continue on to the track-machine? For +undoubtedly the owners of the horses were there; and +the machine, he knew, was in the sole charge of an +oiler. +</p> +<p>Alex decided on the latter course, and making his +way along the bed of the stream, passed the hobbled +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +ponies, and on to the new bridge fifty feet in rear of +the construction-train. +</p> +<p>As he there halted, low voices reached Alex’s ears. +Peering cautiously out, and seeing no one, he crept +forth, and made his way along the side of the embankment +toward the train. A few feet from the rear +car Alex came upon a three-wheeled track velocipede, +used by Elder, the superintendent’s clerk in running +backwards and forwards between the rail-head and the +junction. Pausing, he debated whether he should not +put it on the rails, and make a run for the junction +immediately. Finally Alex concluded first to learn +something further of what was going on, and to count +on the velocipede as a means of making his escape in +case of emergency. To this end he proceeded cautiously +to place the little jigger in a position from +which he could quickly swing it onto the irons. Then +continuing forward under the edge of the train, he +reached the pilot-car. +</p> +<p>“Yes; it’s a first class machine—the best on the +market.” +</p> +<p>The voice was that of the oiler. Apparently he had +been showing the strangers over the track-machine. +For a brief space Alex wondered whether after all +his suspicions were justified. But at once came the +thought, “Why had the strangers hidden their horses +in the creek-bottom if they were genuine visitors?” +and he remained quiet. +</p> +<p>“Where is the boiler?” inquired a new voice, evidently +one of the owners of the horses. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></p> +<p>“There is none. The steam comes from the engine, +behind,” the oiler responded. “Here—it comes +in here.” +</p> +<p>“So! And does the machine get out of order very +easily?” asked a second voice. +</p> +<p>There was something in the tone that caused Alex +to prick up his ears. +</p> +<p>“Almost never. It’s all simple. Nothing intricate,” +the man in charge replied. +</p> +<p>“I suppose it could be put out of order, though—say, +you fellows were to go on strike, and wanted to +disable things? Eh?” +</p> +<p>“Huh! That’s rather a funny question. But I +suppose it could. Anything could, for that matter.” +</p> +<p>“What do they pay you, as oiler?” +</p> +<p>“Say, what are you two fellows driving at?” the +oiler demanded sharply. +</p> +<p>There was a momentary silence, during which Alex +imagined the two strangers looking questioningly at +one another. Then one of them spoke. +</p> +<p>“Look here, whatever you get, we will give you a +hundred dollars a month extra to put this machine +out of order two or three times a week. Nothing very +bad, but just enough to lose two or three hours’ work +each time. We are—well, never mind who we are. +The thing stands this way: We have a big bet on that +the K. & Z. will win in this building race for Yellow +Creek, and—well, you see the point, I guess. What +do you say?” +</p> +<p>During the pause that followed Alex waited breathlessly, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +and with growing disappointment. Was the +oiler considering the bribe? +</p> +<p>“Well,” said the oiler at length, “is that your best +offer? Couldn’t you make it a thousand?” +</p> +<p>“A thousand! Nonsense—” +</p> +<p>“Two thousand, then.” +</p> +<p>“What do you mean—” +</p> +<p>“Just this!” cried the oiler, and simultaneously +there was a rush of feet and a sound of blows. Exultingly +Alex was scrambling forth to go to the oiler’s +assistance, when just above him was a crash of falling +bodies, and a figure bounded over the side of the +car and rolled sprawling down the embankment. +</p> +<p>It was the plucky oiler, and Alex shrank back in +horror as the man came to a stop flat on his back, and +lay immovable, blood trickling from a wound over his +eyes. +</p> +<p>Overhead was the sound of someone getting to their +feet. “He nearly got you,” said a voice. +</p> +<p>“Nearly. But I guess I ‘got him’ one better.” +</p> +<p>“Is he safe for awhile, do you think?” +</p> +<p>As the two men moved to the edge of the car and +apparently gazed down at the prostrate figure in the +ditch, Alex shrank back with apprehension on his own +account. +</p> +<p>“Perhaps we’d better make sure of him.” +</p> +<p>“All right. Here is a bit of rope.” +</p> +<p>Hurriedly Alex crawled beneath the nearby truck, +behind the wheels, and a tall figure in the garb of a +cowboy dropped to the ground before him and ran +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +down to the still unconscious oiler. Binding the prostrate +man’s feet together at the ankles, the cowman +turned the oiler on his face, and secured his hands +behind his back. Turning him again face up, he studied +his eyes a moment, and announcing, “Good job. +Only stunned,” he returned to the car and drew himself +up on it. +</p> +<p>“Now what’ll we do?” inquired his companion. +“That idiot has knocked our plans to pieces. We +can’t go back and say we neither made the deal, nor +did anything else for our money.” +</p> +<p>“We’ll have to tear things up ourselves,” said the +first man decisively. “Let us see what we can do in +the engine-room here.” +</p> +<p>The footsteps passed into the engine-house, and +Alex at once crawled forth, to make his way back +to the velocipede. +</p> +<p>As he emerged from beneath the car he paused to +glance down at the prostrate oiler. Should he leave +him lying there? It did not seem right, despite the +obvious necessity of heading for the junction without +a moment’s delay. +</p> +<p>As he hesitated, the eyes of the prostrate man flickered, +and opened. Alex dodged back, lest the oiler +should betray his presence to the men on the car. As +he dropped down there came the recollection that there +were two seats on the velocipede. Why not take the +man with him, if he sufficiently recovered? Good! +</p> +<p>Anxiously Alex watched as the stunned man blinked +about him. Finally comprehension, then a hot flush of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +rage appeared in the oiler’s face, and with a violent +kick he twisted about toward the car. +</p> +<p>Springing into view, Alex caught the oiler’s startled +eye, and made a warning gesture. The man stared +dully for a moment, then nodded, and on Alex’s +further urgent signalling, dropped back and again +closed his eyes. Alex produced and opened his jack-knife. +</p> +<p>The men above were busily fumbling about in the +engine-room. Only pausing to make sure they were +entirely occupied, Alex slipped forth, cautiously crept +down the embankment, reached the bound man, and +with a slash of the knife freed his feet and hands. +</p> +<p>“Let us slip back to the velocipede—it’s ready to +throw on the rails—and make a dash of it for the +junction,” Alex whispered. The oiler arose, and with +one eye on the engine-room door they crept up under +the edge of the car, and on toward the rear of the +train. +</p> +<p>They reached the little track-car, and cautiously +lifted it onto the rails. +</p> +<p>“Better push it a ways,” the oiler advised in a low +voice. “They might hear the rumble, with our weight +on it.” +</p> +<p>Gently they set the velocipede in motion. With the +first move one of the wheels gave forth a shrill screech. +The two paused as the sounds on the pilot-car immediately +ceased. +</p> +<p>“If we hear one of them going to the edge to look +for me, we’ll make a run of it,” said the oiler. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span></p> +<p>“They may go on tiptoe,” Alex pointed out. +</p> +<p>The suggestion was followed by a sharp exclamation +from the head of the train. “The oiler’s gone!” +cried a voice. Simultaneously there was the sound of +someone springing to the ground, and Alex and the +oiler scrambled into the velocipede seats, Alex facing +the rear, and threw themselves against the handles. +The oilless wheel again screeched, and from the pilot-car +rose the cry, “Around at the end! Quick!” +</p> +<p>Alex and the oiler wrenched the handles backwards +and forwards with all their might, and the little car +leaped ahead. Before they had gained full headway, +however, one of the machine-wreckers appeared about +the end of the train, and with a cry to his companion, +dashed after. He ran like a deer, and despite the +increasing speed of the velocipede, quickly gained +upon them. +</p> +<p>“He’ll get us!” Alex exclaimed. +</p> +<p>“The creek bridge is just ahead. That’ll stop him,” +said the oiler. +</p> +<p>The second man appeared, and joined in the chase. +</p> +<p>The first runner saw the bridge, and redoubled his +efforts. In spite of their best endeavors, he drew +rapidly nearer. A hand shot out to clutch the oiler’s +shoulder. +</p> +<p>It reached him—and with a rumble they were on +and over the bridge, and their pursuer had sprawled +forward flat on his face. +</p> +<p>He was on his feet again like a wildcat, however, +and crossing the bridge three ties at a time, leaped to +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +the flat ground beside the track, and was again after +the velocipede like a race-horse. +</p> +<p>Try as they would, Alex and the oiler could get no +more speed out of the low-geared machine, and with +alarm Alex saw the runner once more drawing near. +The second man they had outdistanced. +</p> +<p>Closer the cowman came. “Stop!” he shouted. +“Stop! You may as well! I’ve got you!” +</p> +<p>Determinedly they held on, working the handles +desperately, Alex watching the grim, clean-shaven face +and the fluttering dotted handkerchief about the pursuing +man’s neck with a curious fascination. +</p> +<p>At last he was parallel with them. Still running, +he drew his revolver. “Stop!” he ordered. “Stop, +or I’ll put one through you!” +</p> +<p>“Keep it up, boy,” the oiler directed sharply. “He +daresn’t fire. He daresn’t add murder to it. And he’d +be heard at the junction.” +</p> +<p>The runner snapped his gun back into its holster, +and putting on an extra spurt, rushed slanting up the +embankment, and threw himself bodily upon the oiler. +They tumbled off backwards in a struggling heap. +Throwing his weight against the handles, Alex stopped +the velocipede, sprang off, and dashed to the oiler’s +assistance. +</p> +<p>The cowman’s revolver had fallen from his belt. +Alex caught it up and pressed it against the back of +the man’s head. “Stop it! Let go!” he cried. “I’ll +certainly shoot!” +</p> +<p>The man half relaxed, and glared up sideways. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +Alex brought the muzzle to his eyes, and slowly he +freed his hold on the oiler. “Oh, very well,” he muttered +with a curse. “You win.” +</p> +<p>“No—don’t!” said Alex, as the enraged oiler +spun about to strike the half-prostrate man. “He’s +down, and has given up.” +</p> +<p>At that moment interruption came from another +quarter. It was a shrill cry from the direction of the +creek-bed, and turning, all three saw a round-shouldered +figure on horseback scrambling from the creek-bottom, +leading the ponies of the two would-be wreckers, +and the second cowman running toward him. +</p> +<p>“It’s Little Hawk!” Alex exclaimed. +</p> +<p>The cowboy reached the Indian, sprang at him, +there was a terrific scrimmage, and the white man +sprang from the melee with the bridle of one of the +ponies, leaped into the saddle, and was off across the +prairie in a whirl of dust. +</p> +<p>So interested had Alex been in the second conflict +that momentarily he had forgotten the man on the +ground before him. He was reminded by suddenly +finding himself sprawling upon his back, and regaining +his feet, found their prisoner also racing off at +top speed. The oiler darted after, but quickly gave +it up. He was no match for the light-footed cowman. +</p> +<p>Seeing the pistol still in Alex’s hand, he cried, +“Shoot! Shoot him!” +</p> +<p>Alex raised the revolver, faltered, and lowered it. +“No. I can’t,” he said. +</p> +<p>“I can!” The oiler darted back and wrested it +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +from Alex’s hand. As he whirled about to fire, Alex +grasped his arm. “No! Wait! Look!” he exclaimed. +“The Indian is after him!” +</p> +<p>Turning, the oiler saw the Indian, with his own and +one of the other ponies, storming across the ground in +pursuit of the runner. Silently they watched. +</p> +<p>As he heard the pounding hoofs behind him, the +fleeing cowboy glanced about, and set on at greater +speed than ever. Quickly, however, the horses cut +down the distance between them. +</p> +<p>The Indian leaned toward the second pony, took +something from the saddle-horn, and began to adjust +it on his arm. +</p> +<p>“He’s going to lassoo him!” said Alex breathlessly. +</p> +<p>Nearer drew the Indian to the fleeing man, and +hand and lassoo went into the air and began to weave +circles. Tensely the two on the embankment watched. +</p> +<p>Closer the horses drew. Wider the circle of the +lassoo extended. +</p> +<p>Suddenly it leaped through the air like a great snake. +The runner saw the shadow of it, and with a cry that +they heard, half turned and threw out his arms to +ward it off. The loop was too large, the cowman +missed it, and as the Indian pulled up in a cloud of +dust, he whipped in the slack, and the noose tightened +fairly about the renegade’s waist. An instant after, +however, the second pony, plunging ahead of the Indian’s, +threw the rider forward, slackening the lariat. +In a twinkle the cowman had loosened the noose, and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +was wriggling out of it. He had freed one foot before +the Indian had recovered himself. Then with a terrific +yank the horseman snapped in the slack, the cowman’s +feet flew from under him, and with one foot +taut in the air, caught at the ankle, he lay cursing and +shaking an impotent fist. +</p> +<p>As Alex and the oiler ran forward the Indian sat +on his horse like a statue, holding the lariat taut. +</p> +<p>The oiler reached the prisoner first, revolver in hand. +</p> +<p>“Get up, you!” he ordered. Sullenly the man +obeyed. Removing a handkerchief from about his +neck, the oiler gave it to Alex, who securely bound the +man’s hands behind him. Throwing off the lassoo, +they turned toward the Indian. With some wonder, +they saw he was carefully examining the hoofs of the +pony he was leading. Concluding the inspection with +a grunt, he came forward, winding up the rope, and +halted before them. +</p> +<p>“You hoss?” he asked of the prisoner, pointing +over his shoulder. +</p> +<p>The cowboy looked at him contemptuously, and +responded, “Well, what if it is, Old Ugly-Mug?” +</p> +<p>The oiler brought up the pistol. “I don’t know +why he wants to know, but you go ahead and tell +him!” he ordered threateningly. “He’s twice the +man you are. Is it your horse?” +</p> +<p>“Yes.” +</p> +<p>Little Hawk turned away with a grunt of satisfaction, +and mounting his pony, rode off towards the +junction. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span></p> +<p>What the Indian meant Alex learned when, with +their prisoner between them, he and the oiler approached +the boarding-train, and met Little Hawk returning +with Superintendent Finnan. +</p> +<p>“That him!” said the Indian briefly as they drew +near. “Him burn cars!” +</p> +<p>From the prisoner came a hissing gasp. As Alex +turned upon him with a sharp ejaculation of understanding, +however, the man assumed an indifferent +air, and strode on nonchalantly. +</p> +<p>“What do you want?” he demanded insolently of +the superintendent. “Can’t a man pull off a—a +little joke without these idiots of yours going out of +their heads? It was nothing more than a bit of fun +me and my mate was having,” he affirmed boldly. +</p> +<p>Superintendent Finnan smiled sardonically. “That +is what the K. & Z. call it, eh?” +</p> +<p>Alex, still with a hand on the prisoner’s arm, felt +him start. But brazenly the man replied, “K. & Z.? +What’s the K. & Z.? A ranch brand? I never heard +of it.” +</p> +<p>On a thought Alex stepped forward and whispered +a word in the official’s ear. +</p> +<p>“Go ahead,” said the superintendent. +</p> +<p>“I’m going to search your pockets,” Alex announced, +stepping back to the side of the renegade +cowman. “No objection, I suppose, since you don’t +know what K. & Z. means?” +</p> +<p>“Search ahead,” agreed the prisoner, half smiling. +“And good luck to you if you find anything to +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span> +connect me—if you find anything,” he corrected +quickly. +</p> +<p>From a trouser pocket Alex drew out a large jack-knife. +With a suspicion of trembling he opened one +of the blades and examined it, while the owner regarded +him curiously. With a shake of the head the +young operator opened the second blade. A quick +smile of triumph lit up his face, and delving into a +vest pocket, he brought forth a scrap of paper, unfolded +it, and took out a fragment of charred pine +shaving. +</p> +<p>Turning his back on the now anxiously watching, +though still puzzled, owner of the knife, he held the +shaving against the edge of the blade. The superintendent +bent over it, and uttered a delighted “Exactly!” +</p> +<p>Triumphantly Alex turned toward the prisoner, and +held the hand with the knife and shaving before him. +“Does this help you to recall what K. & Z. means?” +he asked. +</p> +<p>“Recall? I don’t—” +</p> +<p>“See these two little ridges on the shaving? See +these two little nicks in the blade?” +</p> +<p>With a hoarse cry the man flung himself backward, +and bound as he was, began struggling like a madman. +Alex, the superintendent and the Indian were to the +oiler’s assistance in a twinkle, however, and a few +minutes later saw the renegade in their midst on the +way to the boarding-train—and, as it finally proved, +to the jail at Exeter. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span></p> +<p>“I don’t know who to thank most,” said Superintendent +Finnan later—“you, Ward, or the oiler, or +Little Hawk. Nor what appreciation to suggest higher +up.” +</p> +<p>“You might make it a blanket and Winchester for +the Indian, and a purse for the oiler, for the knocks he +got and the bribe he refused,” Alex suggested. +</p> +<p>“And yourself?” +</p> +<p>“Oh, just let me keep the rascal’s knife, as a memento,” +responded Alex modestly. +</p> +<p>“Very well; we’ll agree on that—for the present,” +said the superintendent. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_A_PRISONER' id='XX_A_PRISONER'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +<h2>XX</h2> +<h3>A PRISONER</h3> +</div> + +<p>When the early-morning mail train stopped at +Yellow Creek Junction on Tuesday, Alex was +at the little box-car station to greet Jack Orr and +Wilson Jennings. Jack, who had not met Wilson +before the latter boarded the train at Bonepile, had +taken a liking to the easterner at once, and confided +to Alex that he was “the real goods,” despite the +“streak of dude.” +</p> +<p>“We ought to have some good times together,” +Jack predicted, as, with lively interest, he and Wilson +accompanied Alex back toward the nondescript but +businesslike-looking boarding-train. +</p> +<p>Jack’s hope, as far as it concerned the three boys +being together, was soon shattered. As they reached +the telegraph-car, Superintendent Finnan appeared, +and having cordially shaken hands with Jack and +Wilson, turned to Alex. “Ward,” he said, “I have +just decided to send you on to the Antelope viaduct. +A courier has brought word from Norton, the engineer +in charge, that trouble appears to be brewing +amongst his Italian laborers, and I would like to get +in direct touch with him. The telegraph line was +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +strung within two miles of the bridge yesterday, and +should reach Norton’s camp to-day. How soon could +you start?” +</p> +<p>“As soon as I have breakfast, sir,” responded Alex, +stifling his disappointment. “It’s twenty miles there, +isn’t it, Mr. Finnan? How am I to go?” +</p> +<p>“You can ride a horse?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.” +</p> +<p>“Elder will have a pony here for you by the time +you are ready. And you had better take an extra +blanket with you,” advised the superintendent as he +turned away. “You will be living in a tent, you +know.” +</p> +<p>Half an hour later Alex, mounted on a spirited little +cow-pony, with a few necessities in a sweater, strapped +to the saddle, and a blanket over his shoulder, army +fashion, waved a good-by to Jack and Wilson, and +was off over the prairie at a lope, following the telegraph +poles. +</p> +<p>It was a beautiful morning, and with the sun shining +and the sparkling air brushing his cheeks and +tingling in his nostrils, Alex quickly forgot his disappointment +at being so quickly separated from Jack and +Wilson, and soon was enjoying every minute of his +ride. Keeping on steadily at a hand-gallop, before he +realized he had covered half the distance, he came upon +the wire-stringing and pole-erecting gangs. A half +mile farther, a long, dark break appeared in the plain, +and a muffled din of pounding began to reach him. +And pushing ahead, Alex drew up on the brink of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span> +a wide, deep gully, from either side of which reached +out a great wooden frame, dotted with busy men. +</p> +<p>It was the bed of the old Antelope river, which +years before had changed its course, and which the +railroad finally proposed crossing with a permanent +fill. +</p> +<p>Directly below, in a group of shrubby trees on the +border of the stony creek which alone remained of +the river, was a village of white tents. From Alex’s +feet a rough trail slanted downward toward it. Giving +his pony free rein, he descended. +</p> +<p>“Where is Mr. Norton?” he asked of a water-boy +at the foot of the path. +</p> +<p>“That’s him at the table in front of the middle +tent,” the boy directed. Thanking him, Alex urged +the pony forward, and leaped to the ground beside a +dark-haired, energetic young man bending over a sheet +of figures. +</p> +<p>“I am the operator Mr. Finnan sent on,” Alex announced +as the engineer looked up. +</p> +<p>“Glad to meet you,” said the engineer, cordially +rising and extending his hand. “You are a trifle +young for this rough work, though, are you not?” +he ventured, noting Alex’s youthful face. “You are +not the operator who caught that K. & Z. man Sunday?” +</p> +<p>“I helped catch him,” Alex corrected. +</p> +<p>“You’ll do, then,” said Norton. “And I’ll give +you a place here in my own tent,” he added, turning +and entering a small marquee, followed by Alex. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span></p> +<p>“This corner will be yours, and the box your ‘office.’ +It will do for the instruments?” +</p> +<p>“Fine,” responded Alex. +</p> +<p>As the wire-stringing gang was not due to reach +the viaduct before mid-afternoon, on completing his +arrangements in the tent, Alex set out for a tour of +his new surroundings. Climbing up the western slope +of the gully, he found a large gang of foreigners, +mostly Italians, working in a cutting. Judging that +this was the gang which was causing the anxiety, Alex +paused some moments to watch them. +</p> +<p>Scattered over a system of miniature track, the men +were shovelling earth into strings of small dump-cars, +which when filled were run out over the completed +western end of the viaduct, and dumped. As Alex +stood regarding the active scene, a string of cars rumbled +toward him from one of the more distant sidings. +Others had been pushed by several men. This was +being driven by a single burly giant. With admiration +Alex watched. Suddenly a sense of something +familiar about the figure stirred within him. The man +came opposite, and Alex uttered an involuntary ejaculation. +It was Big Tony, the Italian who had led the +trouble amongst the trackmen at Bixton two years +back, and with whom he had had the thrilling encounter +at the old brick-yard. +</p> +<p>When the Italian glanced toward him, Alex started +back. But the foreigner did not recognize the young +operator, with his two years of rapid growth, and +passed on. Breathing a sigh of relief, Alex turned +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span> +and made his way to the foreman in charge of the +gang. +</p> +<p>“How do you do,” he said, introducing himself. +“Who is that big Italian pushing the string of cars +alone?” +</p> +<p>“Tony Martino. The best man in the gang,” +responded the foreman. “Why? Do you know +him?” +</p> +<p>“He was on a surfacing-gang near my father’s station +two years ago,” said Alex, “and caused no end +of trouble. He was discharged finally.” +</p> +<p>“He must have reformed, then,” the foreman declared. +“He’s certainly the best man we have—more +than willing, and strong as an ox.” +</p> +<p>“He had nothing to do with the trouble you have +had here, then?” +</p> +<p>“He helped me put it down,” said the foreman. +“No; I only wish we had a few more like him.” +</p> +<p>Alex passed on, thoughtful. At Bixton Big Tony +had been no more remarkable for his willingness to +work than for his peaceableness. Had he really +changed for the better? Or was it possible he was +“playing possum,” to cover the carrying-out of some +plan of revenge against the road? +</p> +<p>Three evenings later, a beautiful, moonlit night, +Alex left the camp for a stroll. To obtain a look up +and down the old river-bed by the moonlight, he made +his way out on the now nearly completed viaduct. +</p> +<p>As he stood gazing down the ravine to the south, +a half-mile distant a dark figure passed over a bright +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span> +patch of sand. It was quickly lost in the dark background +beyond. But not before Alex had recognized +the unmistakable figure and walk of the Italian, Big +Tony. His suspicions at once awakened, Alex was +but a moment in deciding to follow the foreigner, and +returning to the eastern bank, he scrambled down to +the gully bottom, and hastily followed, keeping well +in the shadows on the eastern side of the ravine. +</p> +<p>Reaching the spot at which he had seen the Italian, +he went on more cautiously. A quarter-mile farther +the ravine swung abruptly to the west. As Alex arrived +at the bend, subdued voices reached him. Continuing +cautiously, and keeping to the deepest shadows, +Alex reached a clump of willow bushes. +</p> +<p>He glanced beyond, and in a patch of moonlight +discovered Big Tony in conversation with an almost +equally tall stranger, apparently a cowboy. The latter’s +back was toward him. +</p> +<p>The stranger turned, and Alex drew back with a +start, and then a smile. +</p> +<p>It was the second man of the two who on the previous +Sunday had attempted to wreck the track-machine—the +one who had made his escape. +</p> +<p>As the man turned more fully, and he caught his +words, Alex’s jubilant smile vanished. +</p> +<p>“... enough to blow the whole thing to matchwood, +if you place it right,” he was saying. +</p> +<p>There was no doubt what this meant. They were +planning to blow up the viaduct. +</p> +<p>“Oh, I fixa it alla right, alla right,” declared Big +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span> +Tony confidently. “No fear. I usa da dynamite all-aready. +I blow up da beega da house once.” +</p> +<p>“A house and a big wooden bridge are quite different +propositions. And a wooden bridge isn’t to be +blown up like a stone or iron affair, you know.” +</p> +<p>“Suppose you come, taka da look, see my plan all-aright, +den,” the Italian suggested. “No one on disa +side da bridge, to see, disa time night.” +</p> +<p>The cowman hesitated. “Well, all right. It would +be best to make sure. +</p> +<p>“We don’t want to carry this, though. Where’ll +we put it?” +</p> +<p>As he spoke the man leaned over and picked up a +good-sized parcel done up in brown paper. From the +careful way he handled it there could be no doubt of +its contents. It was the dynamite they proposed +using. +</p> +<p>“Here, I fin’ da place.” +</p> +<p>Alex caught his breath at the display of carelessness +with which the foreigner took the deadly package. +Backing into a nearby clump of bushes, Big Tony +stooped and placed the dynamite on the ground, well +beneath the branches. +</p> +<p>“Dere. No one see dat. Come!” +</p> +<p>As the two conspirators strode toward him, Alex +crept closer into the shadows of the willows. Passing +almost within touch of him, they continued up the +gully, and soon were out of sight. +</p> +<p>Before the footsteps of the two men had died away +Alex was sitting upright, debating a suggestion that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span> +caused him to smile. With decision he arose, approached +the bush under which the dynamite was concealed, +and reaching beneath with both hands, very +carefully brought the package forth and placed it on +the ground in the moonlight. With great caution he +then undid the twine securing the parcel, and opened +it. On discovering a second wrapping of paper within, +he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. Lifting out +the inner parcel intact, he glanced about, and choosing +a group of bushes some distance away, carried the +dynamite there and concealed it. Returning, he secured +the piece of outer wrapping paper, and proceeded +to carry out his idea. +</p> +<p>Where the moonlight struck the western wall of the +gully was a bed of cracked, sun-baked clay. Making +his way thither, Alex found a fragment a little larger +than the package of dynamite, and with his knife proceeded +to trim it into a square. Carefully then he +wrapped this in the brown paper, and wound it about +with the cord just as the original parcel was secured. +And with a smile Alex placed this under the bush +from which he had taken the genuine package. +</p> +<p>“Dynamite with that as much as you please, Mr. +Tony,” he laughed as he turned away. +</p> +<p>When Alex had covered half the distance in returning +to the viaduct he began keeping a sharp lookout +ahead for the returning of the Italian and his companion. +He was within a hundred yards of the great white +structure when he discovered them. Turning aside, +he concealed himself behind a small spruce. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span></p> +<p>With no apprehension of danger Alex waited, and +the two men came opposite. Suddenly, without a +motion of warning, the two turned and darted toward +him, one on either side of the tree. Before Alex had +recovered from his astonishment he found himself +seized on either side, and threateningly ordered to be +silent. +</p> +<p>They dragged him on some distance, then into the +moonlight. “Why, it’s one of the fellows who captured +Bucks on Sunday!” declared the cowboy. +“What are you doing here, boy?” he demanded angrily. +</p> +<p>“I was out for a moonlight stroll,” Alex responded, +stifling his apprehension. +</p> +<p>“Why did you hide behind that tree, then?” +</p> +<p>“Well—perhaps I was afraid,” said Alex vaguely. +“There are some rough people here among the foreign +laborers.” +</p> +<p>As he spoke Alex noted with new alarm that the +Italian was regarding him sharply. He turned his +back more fully to the moonlight. Immediately he +chided himself for his stupidity. The move emphasized +the struggling sense of recognition in the Italian’s +mind, he smartly turned Alex’s face full to the moon, +and uttered a cry in Italian. +</p> +<p>“Now I know! I know!” he cried exultingly. “I +know heem before! And he a spy! A boy spy!” +</p> +<p>Rapidly he gave the stranger a distorted account of +the strike at Bixton, and Alex’s part in his final discomfiture. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span></p> +<p>The cowman listened closely. “Is that so, boy?” +he demanded. +</p> +<p>“Partly. But it was not a strike. It was a simple +piece of murderous revenge against one man, the +section-foreman. And I helped spoil it.” +</p> +<p>“Good. That’s all I want to know,” said the cowboy +with decision. “Not that I care one way or the +other about the affair itself. It shows you are a dangerous +man to leave around loose. I’ll just take you +along with me. Come on!” +</p> +<p>“Come? Where?” said Alex, holding back in +alarm. +</p> +<p>“Never mind! Just come!” Securing a new hold +on Alex’s arms, the speaker and the Italian dragged +him with them back down the gorge. +</p> +<p>As they neared the spot at which the dynamite was +supposed to be safely hidden, the stranger halted abruptly, +studied Alex intently a moment, then sent Big +Tony on ahead, after a whispered word in his ear. +</p> +<p>Alex knew the foreigner had gone to learn whether +the dynamite had been touched. In suspense he +awaited the result. Would the Italian be deceived? +Would he notice the new footprints about the bush? +</p> +<p>Big Tony returned. “All-aright,” he announced. +Alex breathed a sigh of relief, and continued forward +with his captors. +</p> +<p>They proceeded some distance in silence, and presently +Alex had sufficiently plucked up courage to again +ask what they proposed doing with him. +</p> +<p>“I’m going to take you where you will be out of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span> +mischief, that’s all,” replied the unknown cowman. +As he spoke he halted, looked about, and resigning +Alex to the guardianship of the Italian, disappeared +in the shadow of an over-hang of the ravine. A moment +later there was a clatter of hoofs, and he reappeared +leading a horse. +</p> +<p>“Make heem rida too?” questioned Big Tony. +</p> +<p>“Hardly,” responded the cowman, at the same time +freeing and swinging a lariat from the saddle-horn. +“He’s going to trot along behind me like the blame +little coyote he is. +</p> +<p>“Hold out your hands, kid!” he ordered. Seeing +resistance was useless, Alex reluctantly complied. +Running the noose of the lassoo about the boy’s wrists, +the cowman tightened it, and secured it with several +knots. Swinging into the saddle, he fixed the other +end to the saddle-horn. +</p> +<p>“You may go now, Tony,” he said to the foreigner +as he caught up the reins and headed the pony toward +a path to the surface which Alex had not noticed. +</p> +<p>“Gooda night, Meester Munson. And gooda-by, +smart boy,” said the Italian. “Lucky for you I havanta +my way. ‘Scrugk!’ That’s what you get,” he +declared, drawing his hand across his throat. +</p> +<p>“Munson, eh?” murmured Alex as the lassoo +tightened, and he stumbled up the path behind the +pony. “That’s another good thing learned.” +</p> +<p>Arrived at the surface, his captor halted to look +about, then set off across the plains due south, at a +walk, Alex trailing after at the end of the rope. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span></p> +<p>The situation was not without its humorous side, +it occurred to Alex after his first apprehension had +worn off. When a few minutes later the pony broke +into a slow canter, and he was forced into an awkward +dog-trot, a chuckle broke from him. +</p> +<p>The man ahead turned in surprise. “Well, you’re +sure a game one,” he observed. “Imagine it’s funny, +eh?” +</p> +<p>“I was thinking how I would look to some of my +friends, if they could see me here,” explained Alex +good-naturedly. “Trotting along like a little dog on +a string.” +</p> +<p>The cowman pulled up and laughed. “Youngster, +you’re all right,” he said heartily. “I’m sorry you’re—that is—” +</p> +<p>“On the wrong side?” suggested Alex, smiling. +</p> +<p>“Very well. Let it go at that. Look here! If +I take that thing off, will you promise to come along, +and not play any tricks?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, I will,” agreed Alex readily. For he saw +there was little chance of making his escape from the +horseman on an open plain. +</p> +<p>“Hold up your hands, then,” directed the cowboy. +Alex complied, and quickly he was free. +</p> +<p>“How far are we going?” he asked as they moved +on, Alex walking abreast. +</p> +<p>“About twenty miles,” replied the cowman. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_TURNING_THE_TABLES' id='XXI_TURNING_THE_TABLES'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span> +<h2>XXI</h2> +<h3>TURNING THE TABLES</h3> +</div> + +<p>The moonlight had given place to darkness, and +Alex was thoroughly exhausted from his long +walk when the fence of a corral, then a group of small +buildings, loomed up, and his captor announced that +they were at their destination. +</p> +<p>“Do you live here all alone?” Alex asked, seeing +no lights. +</p> +<p>“Since you fellows captured Bucks—yes,” responded +the cowboy, halting at the corral bars. Dismounting, +he whipped saddle and bridle from the pony +as it passed inside, and replacing the bars, led the way +to the house. +</p> +<p>It was a small, meagerly-furnished room that a +match, then a lamp, disclosed. Against the rear wall +was a small stove, in the center a rough table, at either +end a low cot, and in one corner a cupboard. Two or +three chairs, some pictures and calendars and two or +three saddles completed the contents. The floor was +of hard earth. +</p> +<p>“That’ll be your bunk there,” said the owner, indicating +one of the cots. “And you can turn in just +as soon as you like.” +</p> +<p>Crossing the room, he stood at the foot of the bed, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span> +thinking. “What’s the trouble? It looks comfortable +enough,” observed Alex, following. +</p> +<p>“I have it,” said the cowman, and going to the saddles, +he returned with a coiled lariat. Alex laughed +uncomfortably. +</p> +<p>“Lie down,” the man directed. “Or, hold on! +Let’s see first if you have any knives about you.” Objection +would have been fruitless, and Alex of his own +accord surrendered his pocket-knife. +</p> +<p>“Now lie down.” +</p> +<p>With what grace he could, Alex complied. Making +a slip-loop in the center of the lariat, the cowman +passed it over one of the boy’s ankles, and made the +holding-knot as firm as he could draw it. Then passing +the two ends of the rope inside one of the lower +legs of the cot, he ran them across the room and secured +them to his own bed. +</p> +<p>“That’ll leave you comfortable, and put the knots +out of temptation,” he remarked. “Also, if you start +any wriggling this old shake-down of mine will act +as watch-dog. It squeaks if you look at it. And I’m +a powerful light snoozer, and powerful quick with the +gun when it’s necessary,” he added, with an emphasis +which Alex could not doubt. +</p> +<p>Nevertheless, when presently the cowman blew out +the light, and retired, Alex only waited until a steady, +deep snore announced that the man was asleep. Cautiously +he sat up, and reached toward his encircled +ankle. +</p> +<p>The knots had been secured cleverly and tightly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span> +Pry and pull as he could, they gave no more than if +they had been made of wire. +</p> +<p>Working lower, Alex sought to reach the cot leg, +to see whether it was fixed to the floor. With some +difficulty, because of the sitting position made necessary, +he was straining toward it, when suddenly the +bound foot lunged from him, the rope tightened, and +from the cot opposite came a squeak. The snoring +instantly ceased, and Alex sat motionless, holding his +breath. The ominous silence continued, and finally he +lay back with a movement as though turning in his +sleep. +</p> +<p>Minute after minute passed, and still the breathing +of the man across the room did not resume. +</p> +<p>Then suddenly, it seemed, Alex found himself sitting +upright, and daylight flooding the room. He had +fallen asleep. +</p> +<p>The second cot was empty, but a moment after the +door opened and the cowman appeared. +</p> +<p>“How did you sleep, stranger?” he inquired. “I +thought for a spell last night you were trying some +funny business.” +</p> +<p>Alex laughed. “I slept like a log,” he declared +truthfully, ignoring the last remark. “Are you going +to keep me tied up here all day?” +</p> +<p>“Until after breakfast anyway,” responded his host, +proceeding to start a fire in the stove. “Suppose +you’ll have some bacon and coffee?” +</p> +<p>“Thank you, yes. I’m more than hollow, after +that Marathon run you gave me last night.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span></p> +<p>As the cowman turned to the cupboard Alex seized +the opportunity to examine the leg of the cot about +which the lassoo was passed. With disappointment +he discovered it to be a stout post driven into the +floor. +</p> +<p>Despite the discomfort of his position Alex enjoyed +the simple breakfast of biscuits and bacon. He was +passing his cup for a third filling of the fragrant coffee, +when his host abruptly sat the coffee-pot down and +listened. “Someone coming,” he remarked. Alex +also heard the hoofbeats. They approached rapidly, +there was a step at the door, and a tall, well-dressed +figure in riding-breeches and leggings appeared. At +sight of Alex he halted in surprise. +</p> +<p>“Who’s this, Munson?” he demanded. +</p> +<p>The cowman led the way outside and closed the +door, and low words told Alex that he was explaining +the previous night’s occurrences. More, they told him +that this well-dressed man was the connecting link +between the K. & Z. and the men who were seeking to +interfere with the Middle Western in the race for the +Yellow Creek Pass. +</p> +<p>What would be the outcome of the man’s visit for +him? Alex asked himself. For the newcomer would +not fail to appreciate the disadvantage of having been +seen there by the young employee of the M. W. +</p> +<p>The young operator was not left long in doubt. The +door again opened, and the stranger re-entered, followed +by the cowman, and without preliminary placed +a chair before Alex and dropped into it. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span></p> +<p>“Look here, my boy,” he began, “how would you +like to earn some extra money—a good decent +sum?” +</p> +<p>At once seeing the man’s intention, Alex bridled +indignantly. But suppressing his feelings, he responded, +“I’d like to as well as anyone else, I suppose—if +I can earn it honorably.” +</p> +<p>At the last word a flush mounted to the stranger’s +cheeks, but he continued. “Well, that’s all a matter +of opinion, you know. Every man has his own particular +code of honor. However— +</p> +<p>“You probably have guessed who I am?” +</p> +<p>“A K. & Z. man.” +</p> +<p>“Yes. Now look here: Suppose the K. & Z. was +anxious to know from day to day the precise progress +the Middle Western is making in this race for Yellow +Creek, and suppose they were willing to pay a hundred +dollars a month for the information—would that +proposition interest you?” +</p> +<p>Alex replied promptly, “No, sir. And anyway, +it’s not the information you want. It’s my silence.” +</p> +<p>The man’s face darkened. He had one more card +to play, however. +</p> +<p>“Well, let it go at that, then. And suppose, in +addition to a hundred a month to keep silent as to +seeing me here, and what you have learned generally, +I should give you—” He thrust his hand into an +inside pocket and brought forth a long pocketbook. +“Suppose I should give you, say two hundred dollars, +cash?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span></p> +<p>Alex caught a knee between his hands and leaned +back against the wall. +</p> +<p>“I’m not for sale,” he replied quietly. +</p> +<p>The would-be briber thrust the book back into his +pocket and sprang to his feet, purple with anger. +</p> +<p>“Very well, my young saint,” he sneered, “stay +where you are, then—till we’re good and ready to +let you go!” +</p> +<p>He strode to the door, Munson following him. “If +he tries to get away,” Alex heard him add as he +mounted his horse, “shoot him! I’ll protect you!” +</p> +<p>“You <i>are</i> a young fool, all right,” Munson said, +returning. “You’ve simply made it worse for yourself. +You’ve sure now got to stay right here, indefinite. +</p> +<p>“And, as he ordered,” the cowman added determinedly, +“if you try to make a break-away of it, I’ll +sure shoot—and shoot to kill! When I go into a +thing, I put it through!” +</p> +<p>Alex, however, had no intention of staying, whatever +the risks, and when presently Munson, after +assuring himself that the knots were secure, passed +out, he immediately addressed himself to the task of +making his escape. It did not look difficult at first +sight, since both hands were free, and only one foot +tied. But an energetic attempt to loosen the cleverly-tied +slip-loop failed as completely as it had the night +before. Likewise, strain as he could at the cot leg, +he could not budge it, so firmly was it driven into the +hard ground. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span></p> +<p>With something like despair Alex at last relinquished +these endeavors, and turned to the problem of +cutting the rope in some way. In the hope of finding +a nail with which he might pick or fray the lariat +apart, he made a thorough examination of the cot. +There were nails, but they were driven in beyond hope +of drawing with his fingers. +</p> +<p>Dispiritedly Alex relinquished the search, and sat +up. His eyes wandered to the window near him. +Starting to his feet, he strained toward it. +</p> +<p>The lower corner of one of the panes had been +broken, and the triangle of glass leaned inward loosely. +With a low expression of hope Alex was reaching for +it, when from the rear of the cabin sounded the returning +footsteps of the cowman. Speedily Alex sank back +on the cot, and assumed an air of dejection. +</p> +<p>A few minutes later the boy again found himself +alone. But in the meantime he had decided to leave +the securing of the fragment of glass and the attempt +at escape until night. In further preparation for the +attempt Alex that afternoon stretched himself on the +cot, and slept several hours. +</p> +<p>To the young operator it seemed that the cowman +would never retire that night. And when at length +he blew out the light, and threw himself upon his bed, +he apparently lay an interminable time awake. At +length, however, when the moonlight in the window +pointed to approaching midnight, there came a faint +regular breathing, then a full long snore. Without +loss of time Alex got to his feet at the foot of the cot, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span> +and leaning against the wall, reached toward the window. +</p> +<p>He could just touch the broken corner of pane with +the tips of his fingers. Moving his supporting hand +farther along the wall, he drew back, and reached +forward with a lunge. This time he got his wrist on +the window-ledge. Thus leaning, he finally secured a +hold on the fragment of glass with his fingers, and +pulled on it. A crackle caused him to falter. Munson’s +breathing continued undisturbed. At the next +pull the piece came free. The next moment Alex was +sitting on the cot-end, sawing at the rope with the +sharp edge of the broken glass. +</p> +<p>To his disappointment, the edge, though sharp to +the feel, did not cut into the closely-woven and seasoned +twine as he had expected. Vigorously he sawed +away, however, and at last found that the extemporized +knife was taking hold. +</p> +<p>And finally, as the last gleam of moonlight died +from the window-panes, the remaining strand was +severed, and there was a faint slap as the rope fell to +the floor. A restless move by the sleeper and a momentary +cessation of the snoring gave Alex a thrill of fear. +Then the heavy breathing resumed, and getting to his +feet, he slipped to the door, found the catch, lifted it, +and passed out. +</p> +<p>As he closed the door, Alex paused a moment to +assure himself that the cowman was still breathing +regularly, and turned away jubilantly. +</p> +<p>Exultation over his escape was considerably tempered +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span> +when Alex discovered that the moon was almost +down in the west, and that in addition the sky overhead +was clouding. He set off immediately, however, +heading straight north, and when a safe distance had +been put between him and the cabin, broke into a run. +</p> +<p>At a steady jog Alex kept on for several miles over +the dimly-lit plain. Then the moon finally disappeared, +and he fell into a rapid walk. Some time later he +halted in alarm. Was he going in the right direction? +On every hand was a wall of darkness, and overhead +not a star was to be seen. +</p> +<p>He moved on, and again halted to debate the situation. +Certainly, for the time being, he was lost. +What should he do? Remain where he was till daylight? +or go ahead, and take the chance of circuiting +back? He decided to continue. +</p> +<p>Perhaps an hour later, still pushing ahead, Alex +strode full tilt into a barb-wire fence. As he staggered +back a second cry broke from him. Had he +circled back to Munson’s corral? +</p> +<p>His heart in his throat, he felt hurriedly along the +top wire to a post, and reached upward. A gasp of +relief greeted the discovery that the top of the post +was well within his reach. The corral posts were not +less than eight or nine feet, with wires to the top. +</p> +<p>A further cheering idea followed. On the ride to +the Antelope viaduct he had noted a three-wire fence +similar to this paralleling the right-of-way for several +miles. Perhaps this was the same fence? +</p> +<p>If he only knew its direction! +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span></p> +<p>Dropping to the ground for a brief rest, Alex set +his brains at recalling every bit of woods or plains +lore he had ever heard or read of for the telling of +direction. +</p> +<p>It was a puff of air against his cheek that suggested +the answer. +</p> +<p>The prevailing wind! What was it here? +</p> +<p>Southwest! +</p> +<p>In a moment he was on his knees at the foot of the +adjacent fence-post. +</p> +<p>On the farther side, half covering the dead grass, +was a small eddy of sand! +</p> +<p>Hopefully Alex hastened to the next post. <i>The +same!</i> +</p> +<p>To make doubly sure, he tried the third, and with +an exulting, “<i>The same again!</i>” started to his feet, +and struck on, whistling gaily, confident he was heading +due north, and that this was the same fence he +had seen along the new embankment. +</p> +<p>A further cheering thought occurred to the young +operator presently. The construction-train should +not be far from the stretch of road which paralleled +the fence! +</p> +<p>Onward he pushed through the darkness at a steady, +swinging gait, feeling frequently for the fence, to +make sure he was not wandering. +</p> +<p>For what seemed several hours Alex had been walking, +when a faint light appeared in the sky. It was +to his right. His plainsmanship had not put him +amiss. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span></p> +<p>As the light brightened he gazed anxiously ahead. +The ragged, thin-posted fence stretched unbroken to +the northern horizon. He had hoped the light would +reveal the swing to the east, and the dark shape of the +construction-train. +</p> +<p>Alex continued steadily ahead, however, buoying up +his lagging energies with pictures of a hot, appetizing +meal and a pleasant meeting with Jack and the rest +of his friends on the train. And finally, when the sun +had been some time above the horizon, he uttered a +shout. Far in front, but distinct in the beautifully clear +air, the fence turned abruptly to the east. And less +than a mile sun-ward was a long dark shape and columns +of smoke rising lazily into the air. +</p> +<p>Scrambling through the fence, Alex set off on a +bee-line for the train, whistling a brisk march. +</p> +<p>Five minutes later the whistler paused in the middle +of a note and spun sharply about. The color left his +bronzed face. A mile to the rear, on the other side +of the fence, a horseman was following him at full +speed. A glance at the white-faced pony told it was +Munson, and turning, Alex was off, running with +every ounce of his remaining energy. +</p> +<p>The thud of the hoofs gained rapidly. +</p> +<p>Closer they came, and Alex headed off farther from +the fence. Perhaps he’ll be afraid to put the horse +at the wire, he thought hopefully. He glanced back. +The cowman was wheeling off for the jump. +</p> +<p>In despair Alex looked over the long mile still separating +him from the train, and again over his shoulder. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span> +Would the horse make it? He slightly slowed his +steps as the animal made the rush. +</p> +<p>It went over like a bird. +</p> +<p>Gritting his teeth, Alex dashed straight back for the +fence. “I’ll make him jump his head off before he +gets me, anyway,” he said grimly. Flogging the pony, +the cowman endeavored to head the boy off, but Alex +reached the wire, and dove safely through. Scrambling +to his feet, he was on again, this time keeping +closer to the fence. +</p> +<p>It was as the pony drew up abreast fifty feet distant, +and while the train was still a good mile away, that +the idea of signalling for help on the fence-wire occurred +to Alex. He acted immediately. Catching up +a good-sized stone, he ran forward, and on the topmost +wire, near one of the posts, pounded with all his +might the telegraph dot letters “<i>Oh! Oh! Orr! +Orr!</i>” +</p> +<p>Munson had pulled up as Alex ran for the fence. +When the boy began pounding the wire he at once +recognized its purpose, and sprang from his horse, +drawing his pistol. +</p> +<p>Instantly Alex darted on, carrying the stone. The +cowman ran after. But the man was slow on his feet, +and despite his fatigue, Alex drew away from him. +</p> +<p>“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” cried the cow-puncher. +“<i>Pull up! I will!</i>” +</p> +<p>“Go ahead, and they’ll hear you at the train!” +called Alex, though secretly trembling. The cowman +hesitated, then returned the revolver to its holster, and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span> +ran back for his horse. Immediately Alex was again +at the wire, pounding out, “<i>Oh! Oh! Orr! Orr!</i>” +</p> +<p>The cowman was again up with him, and once more +he ran on, gazing anxiously toward the train for +signs of commotion to show his appeal had been heard. +</p> +<p>For some distance the strange race continued, the +cowman, angry and puzzled, on one side of the fence, +Alex keeping close to the wires on the other, in readiness +to dodge under should his pursuer jump. +</p> +<p>Finally the rider again swung off, and headed in +at a gallop. Grimly Alex halted. With a rush the +horse came directly toward him. Waiting until it was +within a few yards of him, he dropped to his knees, +and crawled half way through the fence. +</p> +<p>It was his undoing. Straight at him the horseman +came, as though to jump. Then suddenly the rider +whirled broadside, leaned from the saddle, and before +Alex, wildly scrambling, could withdraw, had him +firmly by the hair. By main force the cowboy dragged +his prisoner through the fence, and upright beside +him. +</p> +<p>With a half-stifled sob Alex lurched limply against +the pony’s shoulders. “Never mind, kid,” said the +cowman not unkindly. “You made a good fight of +it. You did your best. But I had to do my best too. +</p> +<p>“If you’ll give me your word to go quiet, I’ll let +you ride behind me,” he added. “Promise?” +</p> +<p>Alex cast a last look back toward the construction-train. +A few figures were moving about, slowly. +Clearly his signals had not been heard. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span></p> +<p>“All right,” he said wearily, and with some difficulty +mounting behind the cowboy, they were off the +weary way he had come. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Jack, at the construction-train, rose late that morning. +He had been up nearly all night, awaiting news +from the viaduct search-party, which throughout the +entire day had been scouring the nearby country for +his unaccountably missing chum. As he emerged from +the telegraph-car door he found the Indian, Little +Hawk, on the adjoining steps of the store-car. +</p> +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Little Hawk,” he said. “Sunning +yourself?” +</p> +<p>“I wait for you. I hear noise—knock,” the Indian +said. +</p> +<p>“Knock, like little tick-knock in car,” he added as +Jack regarded him, mystified. +</p> +<p>“Tick-knock? What do you mean?” +</p> +<p>“On fence,” said the Indian stolidly. “Hearum +twice. Like dis:” And while Jack’s eyes opened +wide, with a stone he held in his hand the Indian +tapped on the iron hand-rail of the car the telegraph +words, “Oh—Oh—Orr.” +</p> +<p>In a moment Jack was on the ground before him, +all excitement. “Where? Where did you hear it?” +he cried. +</p> +<p>“Fence. Sleep dar,” said the Indian, pointing to +the nearby fence. “No t’ink much about. Den see +horse run—way dar. Den t’ink tick-knock, an’ come +you.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span></p> +<p>Uttering a shrill shout Jack was off on the jump +to find Superintendent Finnan. And fifteen minutes +later the superintendent, Little Hawk, and one of the +foremen, mounted, were away on the gallop along the +ranch fence toward the point at which the Indian had +seen the disappearing horseman. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Alex was thoroughly exhausted when he found himself +once more at the ranch. Slipping to the ground, +he entered the cabin of his own accord, and threw +himself dejectedly upon the couch. +</p> +<p>“You’ve near spoiled a dinged fine rope,” observed +Munson, following him, and kicking at the lariat, still +stretched across the floor. “Oh, well, I can take it +out of the K. & Z. +</p> +<p>“Now for some breakfast. Suppose you don’t feel +too bad to grub, eh? Though you sure don’t deserve +none.” +</p> +<p>As on the previous morning, Alex and his jailer +were near the conclusion of the meal when hoofbeats +again told of the approach of a visitor. Going to the +door, the cowman announced “Bennet.” +</p> +<p>“So that’s his name, is it?” said Alex quickly. +</p> +<p>“What? Did I say—Well, let it go. I don’t see +that it makes much difference. Yes, Bennet’s his +name. +</p> +<p>“And mighty lucky thing I have you back here,” +he added over his shoulder. +</p> +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Bennet,” he said. “Caught +us at breakfast again.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_352' name='page_352'></a>352</span></p> +<p>“Breakfast! What are you doing at breakfast this +time of day?” inquired the K. & Z. man, entering. +When the cowman explained, the newcomer glowered +at Alex threateningly. “Why didn’t you shoot?” +he demanded. +</p> +<p>“Too near the train. They would have heard it,” +responded Munson. +</p> +<p>“Well, clear off the table. I have something I +want to show you,” said Bennet, producing what +looked like a map from his pocket. +</p> +<p>“And you get off to a corner,” he snarled at Alex. +“Why isn’t he tied up?” he demanded of the cowboy. +</p> +<p>“He agreed to a twenty-four hours’ truce—not to +make another break in that time,” the cowman answered +as he swept their few dishes into the cupboard. +</p> +<p>Bennet’s lip curled under his moustache. “And you +believe him, eh?” +</p> +<p>There was a suggestion of tartness in the cowman’s +prompt “Sure! He rode behind me all the way back, +on his word not to attempt anything, and kept it. +Could have pulled my own gun on me if he’d wanted +to.” +</p> +<p>“The more fool,” muttered the railroad man as he +spread the roll of paper on the table. +</p> +<p>Alex meantime had stepped to the window from +which he had taken the fragment of glass, and was +disconsolately watching a half dozen hens scratching +about below. +</p> +<p>Lifting his eyes, he glanced out over the plain. The +men at the table heard a sharply-indrawn breath. It +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span> +was immediately changed into a low whistling, however, +and they gave their attention again to the map. +</p> +<p>Alex had discovered three horsemen heading for the +ranch from the north. And the leading pony he would +have known in a hundred. It was Little Hawk’s +heavily-mottled horse. +</p> +<p>That they were coming to his assistance—that +someone had heard the knocking on the wire—he had +not a doubt. +</p> +<p>The horsemen were still some distance out of hearing. +Ceasing the whistling, Alex glanced casually +toward the table. Seated in chairs, the two men were +still deeply engrossed in the plan before them, talking +in low voices. +</p> +<p>When on turning back to the window Alex recognized +the second horseman as Superintendent Finnan, +he shot a further glance toward the K. & Z. man at +the table, and a smile of anticipation and delight overspread +his face. +</p> +<p>Then suddenly it occurred to him that in a few minutes +the hoofbeats of the on-coming horses would be +heard, and that Bennet would have time to get to the +door and escape. +</p> +<p>He must halt his rescuers, and signal them to approach +on foot! +</p> +<p>A moment Alex thought, then casually remarking +to the cowman, “I’m going to open the window. It’s +hot,” unlatched and swung the sash inward. The +move passed unnoticed, and leaning out he pretended +to call the chickens. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_354' name='page_354'></a>354</span></p> +<p>What he was in reality doing was energetically +waving his handkerchief backwards and forwards below, +making the railroad “stop” signal. +</p> +<p>The horsemen came on. If they came much farther +they would be heard! +</p> +<p>He paused, and waved again, more energetically. +The third horseman pulled up. Quickly Alex followed +with the signal to “come ahead with caution.” The +rear pony spurred forward, pulled up beside the second, +and apparently at a call, the Indian also halted. +On Alex repeating the last signal, all dismounted, and +he knew he had been understood. +</p> +<p>Leaving their horses where they were, the three men +came on at a quick walk. Alex, continuing to talk to +the hens, could scarcely contain his secret delight. +</p> +<p>When his rescuers were within a hundred yards of +the cabin, he once more signalled caution, and they +continued stealthily, revolvers in hand. +</p> +<p>They reached the corner of the house, unheard by +the men at the table. The superintendent raised his +eyebrows questioningly. Alex glanced over his shoulder, +and nodded sharply. The next moment there was +a rush of feet without, and all in a twinkle Bennet +and the cowman were out of their chairs, at the door, +and staggering back before three threatening revolvers. +Staring open-mouthed, they brought up beside +the overturned table. +</p> +<p>Alex’s words were the first. “These were the chickens +I was calling, Mr. Bennet,” he remarked gleefully. +The K. & Z. man recovered himself and turned on +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_355' name='page_355'></a>355</span> +the boy, white with passion. He was stopped by an +exclamation from Finnan. “Bennet! George Bennet! +What are you doing here?” +</p> +<p>“Perhaps this will explain, sir,” said Alex, handing +over the map, which he had caught up during the +excitement. Bennet made a frantic move to intercept +him, but promptly Little Hawk’s revolver was in +his face, and he sank back into a chair, gritting his +teeth. +</p> +<p>“A plan showing every bridge and culvert on our +line, and directions for blowing them all up, simultaneously! +Well—” Words failed the superintendent. +</p> +<p>“And this is what you have come to, Bennet? I’d +never have believed it!” +</p> +<p>There was a second awkward silence, when Superintendent +Finnan suddenly broke it with, “Look here. +I’ve got you now, haven’t I? I’ve got you where I +can put you in jail for a year or so at least. Well, +instead of doing that, I’ll make you a proposition: +</p> +<p>“Drop all this kind of work; guarantee that there +will be no more of it—agree to make it a straight, +square building race between your road and mine, the +first one to reach the Pass to win—guarantee that, +and I’ll let you go. +</p> +<p>“Do you agree?” +</p> +<p>Bennet rose to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ll +give you my solemn word, Finnan. +</p> +<p>“And—and I’m awfully sorry I ever consented to +go into this kind of thing,” the K. & Z. man went on, +a quaver in his voice. “But it was put up to me, and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_356' name='page_356'></a>356</span> +when I’d taken the first step, I thought I’d have to +carry it through.” +</p> +<p>He turned to Alex. “I’m sorry for the way you +have been treated, my lad. You are a plucky boy, and +straight. You keep on as you have, and you’ll never +find yourself in the position I am. +</p> +<p>“I offered him two hundred dollars cash and a hundred +a month to keep his mouth quiet,” the speaker +explained to the superintendent, “and he refused it.” +</p> +<p>“How about the Antelope viaduct, Mr. Finnan?” +Alex asked as they rode away, he on one of Munson’s +loaned ponies. “It wasn’t blown up?” +</p> +<p>“No, but an attempt of some kind was made. +Rather a mysterious affair,” the superintendent said. +“Late last night an Italian of the fill gang was seen +stealing to one of the main foundations, then kicking +and tearing something to pieces. Norton followed +him, and found some fuses, and fragments of paper +that had been wrapped about some strange kind of +explosive, which apparently had failed to ignite. The +Italian has not been seen since.” +</p> +<p>Alex was chuckling. “I think I can guess why +that ‘strange explosive’ failed to go off, sir,” he said. +“It was clay.” And continuing, he explained the mystery +in detail. Superintendent Finnan laughed heartily. +</p> +<p>“Well, Ward, you are certainly due a vote of +thanks,” he declared seriously. “You saved the viaduct, +and now you probably have brought about the +ending of the entire trouble with the K. & Z. people. +I’ll not fail to turn in a thorough report of it.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_THE_DEFENSE_OF_THE_VIADUCT' id='XXII_THE_DEFENSE_OF_THE_VIADUCT'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_357' name='page_357'></a>357</span> +<h2>XXII</h2> +<h3>THE DEFENSE OF THE VIADUCT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Thanks to the termination of the interference +from the opposition road, the work on the extension +progressed rapidly, and two weeks later found the +rail-head seven miles beyond the Antelope viaduct, in +the lower slopes of the Dog Rib Mountains. The coveted +pass to the Yellow Creek gold-field lay but eight +miles distant, and as the K. & Z. was still twenty miles +east, it appeared certain that the Middle Western +would win the great race. +</p> +<p>The time had passed uneventfully with the three +young telegraphers, the end of the second week finding +Alex and Jack together with the construction-train at +the rail-head, and Wilson Jennings back at the temporary +station and material-sidings at the viaduct. +</p> +<p>Perhaps the last few days had passed least interestingly +with Wilson, alone in his little box-car station, +not far from the old river-bed. Saturday had seemed +particularly slow, for some reason, and shortly after +8 o’clock Wilson threw aside a book he had been reading, +and catching up his hat, made for the door, for +a brief stroll, previous to retiring. +</p> +<p>The moon was momentarily showing through a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_358' name='page_358'></a>358</span> +break in the cloudy sky, and looking to the west, Wilson +was somewhat surprised to discover the figures +of two men approaching. When as he watched they +reached the first of a train of tie-cars, and leaving the +rails, continued forward in the shadows, Wilson +stepped back, in disquiet. +</p> +<p>The strangers came opposite, and paused, looking +toward the station window and speaking in subdued +voices. Convinced that something was afoot, the +young operator turned quickly, and stooping low, that +his shadow might not be seen on the window, crept to +the little instrument table and reached for the telegraph +key. He opened, and pressed it down. The +sounder did not respond. He tried again, adjusting +the relay, and turned about in genuine alarm. +</p> +<p>The wire had been cut! Some mischief was surely +afoot. +</p> +<p>From without came the crunch of stealthy footsteps. +Springing to his bunk, Wilson secured his revolver +and belt—the same taken from the would-be bullion +thief he had captured at Bonepile—and stealing to +the rear door, slipped out and to the ground just as +the strangers approached the opposite side of the little +car-depot. +</p> +<p>The car was raised on a foundation of ties, and as +the two men entered, Wilson crept beneath. +</p> +<p>“No one here,” said a gruff voice. “Say, do you +s’pose he saw us, and sneaked?” +</p> +<p>“Like as not. I told you to keep to the rails and +come straight up,” chided the other. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_359' name='page_359'></a>359</span></p> +<p>“Perhaps he will come back. We’re in charge of +the station anyway. That was the real thing.” +</p> +<p>Wilson waited to hear no more. Creeping forth, +he stole off toward the ravine, intending to get out of +sight in its shadows. +</p> +<p>A short distance from the head of the viaduct was +the green light of a small target-switch. The head +of the downward path lay just beyond, and Wilson +headed for the light. He reached it, and passed on. +</p> +<p>Abruptly he halted and turned about. Like an inspiration +had come the remembrance of Alex Ward’s +signalling feat two years before at Bixton, of which +he had heard from Jack Orr. Could he not do the +same? Try and signal Alex or Jack, at the construction-train? +Say, from one of the box-cars at the +farther corner of the yard? +</p> +<p>Casting a glance toward the little station to assure +himself that all was quiet there, Wilson retraced his +steps to the switch, removed the lantern, and tucking +it under his coat, was off between the material-cars +for the farthermost corner of the sidings. +</p> +<p>The outermost car was a box-car. Climbing the +ladder, with his handkerchief Wilson tied the lantern +to the topmost rung, the red light out, and using his +hat just as Alex had done, began flashing the call of +the construction-train, +</p> +<p>“KX, KX, V! KX, KX, V!” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Since the construction-train had started from Yellow +Creek Junction it had been a center of attraction to +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_360' name='page_360'></a>360</span> +coyotes for fifty miles around, and one of the few recreations +enjoyed by the men of the train had been +hunting them at night. +</p> +<p>This Saturday night Alex and Jack, borrowing +Winchesters from other members of the telegraph-car +party, had set out for a “couple of good rugs,” as +they put it, and on leaving the train had headed east, +toward the aqueduct, in which direction they had +heard barks of the midnight prowlers. +</p> +<p>They had gone perhaps three miles, and had fired +on several of the wily animals, without success, when +suddenly Jack caught Alex by the arm and pointed +away to the east. +</p> +<p>“Look, Al! What’s that?” +</p> +<p>“Why, it looks like—It is! It’s a signal +light! +</p> +<p>“And calling us—KX!” cried Alex. “Something +must be wrong with Wilson!” +</p> +<p>“What’ll we do? Back to the train?” +</p> +<p>“Have you a match and some paper?” said Alex, +going hurriedly through his own pockets. +</p> +<p>“Some matches.” +</p> +<p>“Here’s a couple of letters. Come on back to +the rails, find some chips, and make a fire. See +if we can’t answer him, and learn what the trouble +is.” +</p> +<p>They were already racing for the track, reached it, +and quickly gathering together a little pile of dry bark +and chips knocked from the ties, made a fire at the +track-side, and lit it. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_361' name='page_361'></a>361</span></p> +<p>As the flames burst up Alex threw off his coat, and +using it as a curtain, raised and lowered it in a flashed +“I, I, KX!” +</p> +<p>The call twinkled on. Wilson had not seen it. But +the next moment, before Alex had completed a second +answer, the red light disappeared. Alex again shot +forth the gleaming “I, I, KX!” and in blinking response +they read: +</p> +<p>“Chased out of station. Two men. Wire cut. +Something wrong. Help!—V.” +</p> +<p>“OK. But we are three miles from the train. +Hunting. Will we come, or go back for help?” signalled +Alex. +</p> +<p>There was a pause, and the red light blinked, +“Come! Quick!” +</p> +<p>“OK. Coming.” Only pausing to stamp out the +fire, the two boys were away at a run, heading directly +for the light, which at intervals Wilson continued to +show, as a guide. +</p> +<p>Their open-air experience of a month had put the +two boys in the best of condition, and keeping on at +a smart pace, within half an hour the light showed just +ahead, and a few minutes after Wilson ran forward +to greet them. +</p> +<p>“I don’t know what’s in the air, but certainly +something,” he announced. “As you fellows are +armed too, suppose we go back and get the two men +in the station car, and see if we can’t make them tell?” +he suggested. +</p> +<p>“Lead ahead,” agreed the others. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_362' name='page_362'></a>362</span></p> +<p>Stealthily they made their way amid the intervening +cars, and emerged opposite the little depot. +</p> +<p>In the window was the shadow of a man smoking. +</p> +<p>They stole across to the door, and Wilson, leading, +cautiously glanced within. He turned and held up one +finger. Revolver in hand, he tiptoed up the steps, and +with a cry sprang inside and toward the man in the +chair. The intruder was so taken by surprise that he +tumbled over backward. In a jiffy the three boys +were upon him, and had pinned him to the floor; and +while Alex closely clutched his mouth, to prevent him +calling out, the others speedily bound his hands and +feet with some convenient pieces of wire. +</p> +<p>Satisfied that their prisoner was firmly secured, and +having removed his pistol and cartridge-belt, the boys +replaced him in the chair, and Wilson, pointing his +revolver at the man’s head, demanded, “Where is +your pard? And what are you and he up to?” +</p> +<p>There was a look of amusement in the man’s face +as Alex removed his hand, and he replied, “Nothin’ +doin’, boys. You’ll have to guess.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll give you three, to tell,” said Wilson, assuming +a fierce expression and beginning to count. +</p> +<p>The prisoner laughed outright. “You gentleman +kids wouldn’t shoot a fly,” he declared coolly. +</p> +<p>Wilson colored with mortification. For of course +he had had no intention of shooting. Even Alex and +Jack were forced to smile at the turn of the situation. +Wilson had his revenge, however. “Gag him, then, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_363' name='page_363'></a>363</span> +Al,” he suggested, “and we will stow him away beneath +the car.” +</p> +<p>The man’s mouth opened for a shout. In a flash +Alex had slapped a handkerchief between his teeth, +and despite the man’s struggles stuffed it well in. +Then, taking from his neck a long colored neckerchief, +he bound it twice about the man’s face. +</p> +<p>“Now out with him, this side,” said Wilson, opening +the rear door. +</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t it be better to take him over under one +of the cars on the sidings?” Jack suggested. “His +pard might return, and he kick, or make some kind +of a noise underneath.” +</p> +<p>“That’s so.” Dragging their prisoner forth, they +glanced up and down to see that no one was in sight, +and with Jack at his feet and Alex and Wilson at his +arms, they hastened across the rails, passed between +two freight-cars, and in the deep shadow beyond placed +him on the ground and bound him firmly to a rail. +</p> +<p>“Be sure you don’t talk now,” said Wilson derisively +as they turned away. +</p> +<p>“What next?” Jack asked. +</p> +<p>“It’s pretty sure to be some mischief about the +bridge. Let’s have a look around there,” suggested +Alex. +</p> +<p>Approaching the brink of the ravine at a point some +distance from the viaduct, the boys glanced below. +From the three broke a simultaneous low cry of understanding +and indignation. +</p> +<p>In the light of several lanterns a party of seemingly +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_364' name='page_364'></a>364</span> +fifteen or twenty men were piling brush about the +base of one of the central wooden piers. +</p> +<p>“The K. & Z. people again, sure as you’re born!” +exclaimed Alex hotly. “And after their solemn agreement!” +</p> +<p>“If they succeed in burning it, they will hold back +our supplies two or three weeks, and reach the pass +ahead of us, dead certain,” added Jack through his +teeth. “We’ve got to stop them, boys!” +</p> +<p>“Isn’t there a hand-car or a velocipede here, +Wilse?” Alex inquired. +</p> +<p>“No. Not even a push-car. And it’d take one +of us an hour and a half to reach the construction-train.” +</p> +<p>“But that’s certainly the only thing to be done,” +Jack pointed out. “Perhaps two of us, with the rifles, +could hold them—” +</p> +<p>A flicker of light broke out below which was not +a lantern, and approached the dimly disclosed brush-pile. +Quick as a flash Jack’s rifle went to his shoulder, +and there was a reverberating crash. The light disappeared +and there came up a chorus of surprised +shouts and the clatter of running feet. +</p> +<p>“Now we are in for it. I think we had better stick +it out together,” said Alex quietly. “Perhaps the +firing will be heard at the train.” +</p> +<p>The others agreed, and at Wilson’s suggestion they +made their way a few feet down the slope to a ledge +from which the whole structure of the bridge could +dimly be seen. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_365' name='page_365'></a>365</span></p> +<p>“How are you fellows off for ammunition?” whispered +Wilson. +</p> +<p>“I have four more rounds in the rifle, and thirty +in my belt,” said Jack. +</p> +<p>“Five in the gun and twenty-seven in the belt,” +Alex announced. +</p> +<p>Wilson had been examining the revolver and belt +they had taken from the prisoner, and which he had +brought with him. “Fourteen in the two pistols and +nearly sixty in the two belts,” he said. +</p> +<p>“We ought to be able to put up all kinds of a +fight,” Alex declared confidently. “That is, unless +they—” +</p> +<p>He broke off, and all leaned forward, peering down +into the gloom, and listening. From a little to the +left rose the clatter of a pebble. Wilson stretched +himself on his face, and bent over, one of his pistols +extended. Barely breathing, they waited, and again +came a faint clatter as of loosened earth, nearer. +</p> +<p>“Don’t let him get too close,” Alex whispered. +</p> +<p>There came the sound of something snapping, a +smothered exclamation, and instantly Wilson fired. +There was a shrill cry, and the crash of something rolling +downward. At the same moment from below +came a crashing volley of shots, and bullets snarled +upward by them like a swarm of bees. The boys +shrank back flat, then leaned over and returned two +quick volleys. +</p> +<p>Another cry indicated that one of their bullets had +found a mark, and following a scattering return volley +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_366' name='page_366'></a>366</span> +from the darkness there were sounds of a hurried +scuttling for cover. +</p> +<p>“Anyone touched?” Jack asked. +</p> +<p>“I think I lost a little hair,” said Wilson quietly. +</p> +<p>“Me too,” said Alex. “But a miss is as good as +a mile, you know. And we have the advantage so +far.” +</p> +<p>“Sh!” warned Jack. In the silence came the sound +of running footsteps farther up the gully, followed by +a continuous rattle of falling stones. +</p> +<p>“They’re making a rush up another path. Quick, +and stop them!” exclaimed Wilson, starting to his +feet. +</p> +<p>“Hold on,” Alex interrupted as they reached the +crest of the slope. “Perhaps it’s a ruse to get us +away, so they can start the fire. You two run and +chase them down, and I’ll stay and watch here. If +you need help, shout.” +</p> +<p>Wilson and Jack sprang away along the brink of +the ravine. A hundred yards distant the sounds of +men ascending rose from directly beneath them. +Without pause they fired. Cries of rage followed, and +as the boys dropped to the ground a dozen bullets +whined over them. Promptly Wilson replied with the +entire seven shots from one of his pistols, there was +a crash as of someone falling, then a general scrambling +as the entire party apparently tumbled precipitately +down the steep slope. Rising to their feet, the +boys fired several more shots, and hastened back +toward Alex. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_367' name='page_367'></a>367</span></p> +<p>As they neared him the crash of his rifle told he had +guessed rightly that another attempt would be made +to light the fire. +</p> +<p>“Quick!” he said, slamming the loading mechanism. +“They’re sticking to it!” +</p> +<p>Wilson and Jack saw several twinkling flames, and +the roar of Alex’s next shot was followed by the crash +of their own weapons. A cry of agony followed, and +one of the lights disappeared. Another faltered, and +also went out. +</p> +<p>Alex once more brought up his rifle, took careful +aim; the jet of flame leaped from the muzzle, and with +a shout the boys saw the last spot of light describe an +arc in the air, and go out. +</p> +<p>An angry howl followed, then a continuous volley +from several different points. The spirit of fight had +taken full possession of the three lads on the brink of +the ravine, however, and lying close, they gave back +shot for shot, quickly but steadily. Finally a lull came, +and Alex rose exultingly on an elbow and shouted +below, “Come on, you cowards! Come—” +</p> +<p>From behind one of the bridge pillars leaped a flame, +and with a sharp intake of breath Alex slipped sideways. +But as Wilson and Jack sprang to his side he +again rose. “It’s nothing,” he declared. “Just a +graze inside the arm.” +</p> +<p>The quiet continuing, the others insisted on removing +Alex’s coat, and feeling, found the shirt-sleeve +wet. “Tie a handkerchief round it,” Alex directed. +“There. That’s all right. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_368' name='page_368'></a>368</span></p> +<p>“That’s what I get for allowing myself to be carried +away, isn’t it?” he added as Wilson and Jack +helped him into his coat. “I didn’t realize how—” +</p> +<p>All three snatched up their weapons and spun about. +</p> +<p>A tall stooped figure was standing within a few feet +of them. +</p> +<p>“Surrender!” cried Wilson. “<i>Quick, or I’ll—</i>” +</p> +<p>“It me, Little Hawk,” said a quiet voice. “Why +shoot?” +</p> +<p>With a common cry of joy the boys sprang forward, +and quickly explained the situation. The Indian +grunted. “Not K. & Z. man,” he said. “Bad cowboy, +miner, gambler, from Yellow Creek. Makeum +big bet K. & Z. win, come burn bridge, makeum win. +Little Hawk hearum talk, come follow, hearum fight, +come quick. +</p> +<p>“Thinkum big fight. Only three boy fight, eh?” +he added in surprise. +</p> +<p>Alex had been considering. “Look here, Little +Hawk,” he suggested, “you ride back to the construction-train +and give the alarm, will you? I think we +have these fellows scared now, and can hold them till +help comes. And none of us could ride that pony of +yours.” +</p> +<p>“I findum nother hoss—cowboy hoss,” said the +Indian, pointing the way he had come. “You go, +takeum, Little Hawk stay fight.” +</p> +<p>Alex thought a minute. “No; I’d rather stick, +and see the thing through, now,” he declared. +</p> +<p>“Me too,” said Jack promptly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_369' name='page_369'></a>369</span></p> +<p>“Same here,” Wilson agreed. +</p> +<p>“It’s up to you, then, Little Hawk. +</p> +<p>“Say, hold on!” Alex interrupted as the Indian +turned away. “Boys, how about Little Hawk taking +our prisoner back with him on the other horse? The +folks at the train might get some information out of +him. +</p> +<p>“Could you take him, Little Hawk?” he asked. +</p> +<p>The redskin grunted assent. “Tieum to saddle,” +he said. +</p> +<p>“I’ll go and show him where the rascal is,” volunteered +Wilson. +</p> +<p>A few minutes later, with the boys’ prisoner trailing +behind, securely bound to the saddle of the wandering +horse he had picked up, the Indian was off across +the plain to the west at the top of his mottled pony’s +speed. +</p> +<p>When Wilson returned to Alex and Jack he found +them busy constructing a miniature block-house of ties +they had thrown from a neighboring car. “That’s +the idea,” he said, joining them. “We could hold +out in that all night, easily.” +</p> +<p>“No; leave that opening, Wilse,” Jack interposed +as Wilson began closing a gap at one of the corners. +“That’s to command the bridge. We’re going to +fire through, not over.” +</p> +<p>The boys had just completed their little fort when +from the top of the gully immediately opposite came +a spit of flame, followed by the plaintive hum of a +pistol bullet above them. Promptly they dropped below +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_370' name='page_370'></a>370</span> +the ties, and Alex, who had that side, aimed +toward the spot at which he had seen the flash, and +as it spat out again, crashed back with his Winchester. +From several points along the opposite level a ragged +fire followed, and continued intermittently. +</p> +<p>Then finally, as the boys had half expected, there +came a smattering volley from amid the cars on the +sidings behind them. The body of their assailants had +reached the surface on their side. +</p> +<p>Now it was that the three began to experience their +first real anxiety. For despite their show of confidence +to one another, each secretly knew that if a determined +rush was made from near at hand, there was scarcely +an even chance of their standing it off. +</p> +<p>As a provision against this eventuality Wilson did +very little firing during the almost steady exchange of +shots that followed, keeping the chambers of his two +revolvers always full. To the same end, Alex and +Jack used their magazine-rifles as single-shots, holding +the magazines, fully charged, in reserve. +</p> +<p>“I think I’m getting one of them now and then,” +Alex was saying about half an hour after the disappearance +of the Indian. “Or else—” He broke off +to fire again. “Unless their ammunition is giving out +over there.” +</p> +<p>Suddenly Jack snapped open his magazine. “Here +they come!” he whispered. Alex scrambled about +beside him. Wilson thrust the pistol-barrels through +the loop-hole. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_372' name='page_372'></a>372</span> +<a name='linki_26' id='linki_26'></a> +<img src='images/illus-371.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +WITH THE BOYS’ PRISONER SECURELY BOUND TO THE SADDLE<br /> +OF THE WANDERING HORSE, THE INDIAN WAS OFF<br /> +ACROSS THE PLAIN. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_373' name='page_373'></a>373</span></div> +<p>From the dark line of the cars rose a shouted command, +there came a ripping volley of a dozen Colts, +and a dim group of figures rushed toward them. +</p> +<p>“Now, steady!” warned Alex. “And shoot low! +</p> +<p>“<i>Fire!</i>” +</p> +<p>“<i>Crash!</i>” went the Winchesters, “<i>Crack, crack, +crack!</i>” the pistols. +</p> +<p>Two of the leading runners went to their hands and +knees. The others rushed on, shouting and spitting +flames. +</p> +<p>Keeping well under cover, the boys fired as quickly +as they could work their weapons. Wilson felt a +stinging snip at his right ear, and a warm stream trickling +down his neck. He emptied the first pistol, and +began with the second. +</p> +<p>“<i>Crash! Crash!</i>” roared the Winchesters. +</p> +<p>The attackers held on. They had made half the distance. +In spite of themselves, the boys began firing +nervously. +</p> +<p>Closer the running figures came. +</p> +<p>Jack snapped back his reloading mechanism, and +pulled the trigger. There was no report. +</p> +<p>His cry of consternation was echoed by Alex. +</p> +<p>They had fired their last shots! +</p> +<p>With a wild shout of triumph two of their assailants +were upon them. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>From a clear patch of sky bright moonlight flooded +the construction-train and the gray slope of the hill +to the southeast about which the rails had crept that +day. Grouped on the rear steps of the store-car, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_374' name='page_374'></a>374</span> +Superintendent Finnan and several of his foremen +sat and smoked, and listened. +</p> +<p>“Yes; it’s a horse,” said one of the foremen. +</p> +<p>“Two horses,” declared the superintendent. “And +coming as though Old Nick were after them.” +</p> +<p>Over the moonlit rise swept a figure on horseback, +then another. +</p> +<p>On discovering the group at the car, the leader uttered +a shrill whoop, and tore down the slope toward +them. +</p> +<p>“The first is Little Hawk! The other is a prisoner! +What’s wrong?” cried the superintendent, springing +to the ground. +</p> +<p>The Indian pulled up in a cloud of dust before him, +and threw himself from his reeking pony. +</p> +<p>“Want burnum bridge,” he said, indicating his +prisoner. “Five, ten, more! Much more! Three +boy—tick-knock boy—fightem! +</p> +<p>“Hear? Hear?” +</p> +<p>He placed his hand to his ear. +</p> +<p>The incredulous group turned to the east and listened. +</p> +<p>As from infinitely far away, half heard, half felt, +came a low, deadened “Plugk!... Plugk, plugk!... +Plugk!” +</p> +<p>A moment the startled railroadmen stared at one +another. Then quickly the superintendent spoke. +</p> +<p>“Ryan, rout out the engineer and firemen! The +rest of you run for your guns, and a dozen good men +from your gangs! Don’t lose a minute!” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_376' name='page_376'></a>376</span> +<a name='linki_27' id='linki_27'></a> +<img src='images/illus-375.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='text-align:center;'> +THE INDIAN PULLED UP IN A CLOUD OF DUST. +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_377' name='page_377'></a>377</span></div> +<p>The group scattered with a rush. Fifteen minutes +later, with men filling her cab and clustered on the +tender, the engine was under way, rushing eastward. +</p> +<p>As rapidly the speed was increased, the locomotive +rocked and leaped over the new roadbed, but with the +superintendent at his elbow, the engineer drove her +up to the last notch, and the prairie streamed by them +like a blanket. +</p> +<p>Half the distance was made, and above the noise +of the engine came a sharp “Tap, tap! Tap, tap, +tap!” +</p> +<p>On the engine rushed, and the distant shapes of +cars appeared. Simultaneously there came a crashing +volley of shots, and a chorus of shouting. The men +on the engine gripped their guns, and stared ahead +into the space lit up by the headlight. +</p> +<p>With reducing speed they struck a curve, and the +stream of light swung about toward the bridge. The +next moment into the glare broke a group of madly +struggling figures. +</p> +<p>On the flash of the light the fighting ceased. There +were cries of alarm, and the renegades began to break +and flee. A small party stood, and fired toward the +engine. But with a roar the railroadmen leaped and +tumbled to the ground, and rushed at them, and they +too broke and fled. +</p> +<p>And the great fight was over, and won. +</p> +<p>The superintendent was first to reach the little barricade. +Jack, he found unconscious from a blow on +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_378' name='page_378'></a>378</span> +the head. Wilson had fainted, and Alex drooped +limply on the wall of ties, exhausted past speaking. +The faces, hands and clothes of all bore mute witness +to the desperate struggle they had put up during those +last terrible minutes. +</p> +<p>Within a short time, however, all three boys had +somewhat recovered, and were able to take their places +in the engine cab; and a half hour later the party +headed back for the construction-train, coupled behind +them a box-car containing eighteen prisoners. Ten +of the captured men were found to have been wounded, +several seriously; but to the relief of the boys none +had been killed outright. +</p> +<p>When rescued, rescuers and prisoners arrived at the +construction-train they found an excited crowd of +over three hundred men awaiting them. And on the +details of the affair quickly spreading, the three boys +were literally swept from their feet by the enthusiastic +foreigners, hoisted into the air, and carried to the +telegraph-car to a continuous roar of “hurrahs” and +“bravos.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>The following Wednesday a special train, to which +was attached Division Superintendent Cameron’s private +car, drew up at the rear of the boarding-train. +Proceeding thither in response to a message, Alex and +Jack found Wilson, who had been picked up at the +viaduct station, Construction Superintendent Finnan +and several other Middle Western officials. +</p> +<p>Having greeted them warmly, the division superintendent +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_379' name='page_379'></a>379</span> +took a small package from his desk, and +opened it. “I know you don’t like speeches, boys,” +he began; “and in any case, I’m not sure I could do +justice to the occasion. But, here! These three +gold watches—the very finest the company’s money +could buy, I may say—will show you what we think +of the loyalty to the company, and the splendid courage +you three lads displayed last Saturday night in +defense of the Antelope viaduct. +</p> +<p>“I might just read one of the inscriptions,” he said, +opening Alex’s watch. +</p> +<p>“‘To Alex Ward, from the Middle Western Railroad, +in recognition of the heroic part he played in the +defense of the Antelope viaduct, November 2nd, 18—, +and in thus ensuring the victory of the Middle Western +in its memorable race with the K. & Z. for the +Yellow Creek Pass.’ +</p> +<p>“For that is precisely what it meant,” declared the +superintendent. “The pass is ours now, beyond any +chance. +</p> +<p>“And finally,” he concluded, as Alex, Jack and +Wilson, scarcely knowing what to say, took the three +beautiful watches, “I would just like to remark that +if you three boys do not some day stand where I stand, +or higher, I’ll be both greatly surprised and disappointed.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>That this prediction was justified, you can to-day +learn from any directory of railroad officials—for +there, in the pages devoted to the Middle Western, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_380' name='page_380'></a>380</span> +you will find the name of Alexander Ward, Superintendent, +Western Division; John Orr, Superintendent, +Central Division; and, as General Superintendent of +Telegraphs, Wilson A. Jennings. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG RAILROADERS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25868-h.txt or 25868-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/8/6/25868">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/8/6/25868</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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