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The Young Engineers in Colorado, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 22. "Can Your Road Save Its Charter Now?" |
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_ CHAPTER XXII. "CAN YOUR ROAD SAVE ITS CHARTER NOW?" "Oh, I guess the train will go through, all right," replied Tom Reade, with much more confidence expressed in his tone than he really felt. "Stay with us and see it go through," mocked 'Gene Black. "If it's just the same to you I'd rather ride on," Tom proposed. "But it isn't all the same to us," Black chuckled. "Then I guess I prefer to ride on, anyway." "You won't, though," snapped Black. "You'll get off that horse and do as we tell you." "Eh?" demanded the young chief engineer. He appeared astonished, though he was not. "You came down the line to meet your railroad detective, Fulsbee," Black continued sneeringly. "You'd better give it up." "You seem to think you know a good deal about my business," Tom continued. "I know all about the telegram," 'Gene retorted. "I sent it---or ordered it sent." Tom started in earnest this time. "Did you ever hear of ways of cutting out a telegraph wire and then attaching one of the cut ends to a box relay?" queried the scoundrel. "I---I believe I have heard of some such thing," Reade hesitated. "Was that the trick you played on me?" "Yes," nodded Gene Black. "We cut the wire just below here. We've got a box relay on the wire going both ways. Your operators can't use the wire much tonight. Your company can't use it from Lineville at all." Tom's face showed his dismay. 'Gene Black laughed in intense enjoyment. "So you cut the wire, oh, and attached box relays?" "Surely," Black nodded. "I'm glad you confess it," replied Tom slowly. "Cutting telegraph wires, or attaching box relays without proper authority is a felony. The punishment is a term in state's prison." "Bosh!" sneered Black. "With all the political pull our crowd has behind it do you suppose we fear a little thing like that?" "I'll talk the crime over with Dave Fulsbee," Tom continued. "A lot of good Fulsbee will do you," jeered 'Gene. "We have him attended to as well as we have you." "That's a lie," Reade declared coolly. "Do you want us to show him to you?" "Yes," nodded Tom. "You'd have to show me Dave Fulsbee before I'd believe you." "Yank the cub off that horse!" ordered 'Gene Black harshly. Three or four men seized Reade, dragging him out of the saddle and throwing him to earth. Tom did not resist, for he saw other men standing about with revolvers in their hands. He did not believe that this desperate crew of worthless characters would hesitate long about drilling holes through him. "Take the horse, you, and ride it away," directed Black, turning to one of the men, who promptly mounted and rode off into the darkness. "Tie that cub's hands behind him," was Black's next order. "Now, bring him along." 'Gene Black led the way back from the track and into the woods for a few rods. Then the party wheeled, going eastward in a line parallel with the track. Tom did not speak during the journey. It was not his nature to use words where they would be worse than wasted. After proceeding a quarter of a mile or so, Black parted the bushes of a dense thicket and led the way inside. At the centre the brush had been cleaned out, clearing a circular space about twenty feet in diameter and dimly lighted by a lantern placed in the centre of the inclosure. "A snug little place, Reade," chuckled the scoundrel, turning about as Reade was piloted into the retreat. "How do you like it?" "I like the place a whole lot better than the company," Tom answered promptly. "What's the matter with the company?" jeered Black. "A hangman would feel more at home in a crowd like this." "See here, cub! Don't you try to get funny," warned Black, his eyes snapping dangerously. "If you attempt any of your impudence here you'll soon find out who's master." "Master?" scoffed Tom, his own eyes flashing. "Black, do you draw any comfort from feeling that you're boss of such an outfit? Though I daresay that the outfit is better than its boss. However, you asked my opinion, and you got it. I'll give you a little more of my opinion, Black, and it won't cost you a cent." He looked steadily into his enemy's eyes as he continued: "Black, a good, clean dog wouldn't willingly stand by this crowd!" Thump! 'Gene Blacks clenched fist landed in Reade's face, knocking him down. "Thank you," murmured Reade, as he sat up. "Much obliged, are you?" jeered Black. "Yes," admitted Tom. "As far as it goes. That was a coward's act---to have a fellow's hands tied before daring to hit him." Black's face now turned livid with passion. "Lift the fool to his feet, if he wants to stand," ordered Black savagely. "He's trying to make me waste my time talking to him. Operator, call up Brewster's and ask if he held the train as ordered by wire." "Oho!" thought Tom. "So that's your trick? You have the wire in your control, and you're sending supposed train orders holding the train at a station so that it can't get through You're a worse scoundrel than I thought!" Off at the edge of the brush, on the inner side, a telegraph instrument had been set up on a barrel. From the instrument a wire ran toward the track. In another moment the sounder of the sender was clicking busily. There was a pause, then the answer came back: Click-click-click-clickety-click! The operator, a seedy-looking fellow over whose whole appearance was written the word "worthless," swung a lantern so that the light fell on a pad of paper before him. Pencil in hand, he took off the message as it came. "Come over here and read it, sir?" inquired the operator. Black crossed, bending over the sheet. Despite himself the scoundrel started. Then he moved so that the light should not fall across his face. Plainly Black was greatly disappointed. He swallowed hard, then strolled back to the main group, of which Tom was one. "That's the way to do business," announced 'Gene Black, with a chuckle. "We sent fake train orders from the top of that barrel, and your own railroad operator handed the orders to the conductor of your through train. Therefore the train is switched off on to the side track at Brewster's, and the engineer, under the false orders, is allowing his steam to cool. Now, do you believe you will get your train through tonight?" "Oh, yes!" yawned Tom coolly. "For you are lying. The message that came back over the wire from our operator at Brewster's read in these words: 'Showed your order to train conductor. He refused order, saying that it was not signed properly. Train has proceeded.'" It was an incautious speech for Tom Reade Black fairly glared into his eyes. "So you can pick up telegraph messages by the sounds" 'Gene demanded. "'Most anyone can who has ever worked over a telegraph key," Tom admitted. Now that the secret was out, Black plainly showed his anger over the fact that the conductor had refused train orders at Brewster's. "You S.B. & L. fellows have put up some trick to beat us off!" he declared, looking accusingly into Tom's face. "What of it?" Reade inquired. "It's our railroad, isn't it? Can't we do what we please with our own road?" "It won't be your road after tonight!" Black insisted, grinding his teeth in his rage. "Fortunately, we have other ways of stopping that train from getting through. You'll soon know it, too." Black called to the tramp operator. "My man, call up the box relay fellow below here." The sounder clicked busily for some moments. "I have the other box relay man," declared the operator. "Then send this, very carefully," Black continued hoarsely: "X-x-x---a-a-a---b-b-b." The operator repeated it. Black nodded. Once more the instrument clicked. "The other box relay man signals that he has it," nodded Black's present operator. "Listen! Everyone of you! Not a sound in this outfit," commanded 'Gene Black. For fully three minutes the intense silence continued. Then Black turned again to the operator, saying: "Ask the other box relay man if anything has happened near him?" A minute later Black's operator reported: "He says: 'Yes; happened successfully.'" "Good!" laughed Black, a look of fierce Joy lighting up his eyes. "Now, Reade, I guess you'll admit yourself beaten. An electric spark has touched off a charge of giant powder under the roadbed. The rails have been blown skyward and a big hole torn out of the roadbed itself. Even if you had a wrecking crew at the spot at this moment the road couldn't be prepared for traffic inside of twenty-four hours. NOW, will your through train reach Lineville tonight? Can your road save its charter _now_?" Tom Reade's face turned deathly white. 'Gene Black stood before him, gazing tauntingly into the eyes of the Young Chief engineer. _ |
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