rod assists the young man to the “limited.”—(page133.)
“Because I belong on this train and it is my business to be sure of things connected with it,” replied Rod, still speaking pleasantly.
“Oh, you do, do you. Are you its conductor?”
“No, sir, but I am one of its brakemen.”
“Are there any more like you?”
“Yes, sir, there is another like me. I sha’n’t need his help though to put you off this train if you don’t get off, and in a hurry too,” answered Rod hotly, for he began to suspect that the young man was making fun of him.
“Oh, come now!” said the passenger mildly, “don’t get excited, I’m perfectly willing to go. It was a very natural mistake for a blind man to make. You may be blind yourself some day, and then you’ll find out.”
“I didn’t know you were blind, sir,” exclaimed Rod apologetically and instantly regretting his harshness toward one so cruelly afflicted. “I am very sorry, and if you will allow me, I will see you safely aboard the ‘Limited.’”
The young man accepted this offer, explaining at the same time that while he was not totally blind, his sight was very dim. So Rod helped him off onetrain and into the other, striving by every attention to atone for the abruptness with which he had spoken before learning of the other’s infirmity. As he took the stranger’s hand to guide him down the steps of the coach he noticed that the large diamond of a ring worn by the latter, had cut its way through the back of one of his kid gloves.
A moment later the “Limited” pulled out, and in a few minutes the express special, laden that night with a freight of unusual value, followed it.
TROUBLE IN THE MONEY CAR.
Until after midnight the run of the express special was without interruption or incident. Thus far it had made but two stops. The second of these was at the end of the freight division where Conductor Tobin had been accustomed to turn over his train to a relieving crew and spend the day. With such a flyer as the special, however, his run was now to be twice as long as formerly, so that he and Rod looked forward to doing a hundred and fifty miles more before being relieved. There was but one other brakeman besides Rod, and as there was little for either of them to do, save to see that the rear end lights burned brightly, and always to be prepared for emergencies, time hung rather heavily on their hands.
Thanks to automatic air brakes, the life of a passenger brakeman is now a very easy one as comparedwith the same life a few years ago. The brakeman of those days, almost as greasy and smoke begrimed as a fireman, spent most of his time on the swaying platforms between cars amid showers of cinders and clouds of blinding dust. At every call for brakes he was obliged to spring to the wheels of the two entrusted to his care and set them up by hand with the utmost exercise of his strength. He was not allowed to remain inside the cars between stations, and the only glimpses he got of their scant comfort was when he flung open their doors to call out the names of stations in his own undistinguishable jargon. He was invariably a well-grown powerfully built fellow, as rough in manner as in appearance.
To-day, on all passenger trains and on many freights as well, the automatic brakes are operated by compressed air controlled by the engineman. By a single pull of a small brass lever within easy reach he can instantly apply every brake on his train with such force as to bring it to a standstill inside of a few seconds. The two small cylinders connected by a piston-rod on the right hand side of every locomotive just in front of the cab form the air-pump. It is always at work while a train isstanding still, forcing air through lengths of rubber hose between the cars and into the reservoirs located beneath each one. As brakes are applied by the reduction of this air the engineman’s lever merely opens a valve that allows the imprisoned force to escape with a sharp hissing sound. If a train should break in two the connecting lengths of rubber hose would be torn asunder, and the outrushing air would instantly apply brakes to the cars of both sections bringing them to a speedy standstill.
Thus the brakeman of to-day, instead of being the powerful, cinder-coated and rough-voiced fellow of a few years back, may be as slim and elegant as any of the passengers under his care provided he is polite, wide-awake, and attentive to his duty. Clad in a natty uniform, he now spends his time inside the car instead of on its platform. He has reports to make out, lamps and flags to look after, and in cases of unexpected delay must run back to protect his train from any other that may be approaching it. Formerly it was necessary to have as many brakemen on a passenger train as there were cars, while now it is rare to find more than two on each train.
So Rod had very little to do in his new position,and soon after leaving the second stopping-place of his train, was sitting near the forward end of the coach with his head resting on the back of a seat, gazing at the ceiling and buried in deep thought. Conductor Tobin and the other brakeman were seated some distance behind him engaged in conversation.
Rod was thinking of what an awful thing it was to be blind, and this chain of thought was suggested by a glimpse of the young man with smoked glasses, whom he had assisted on board the “Limited” some hours before, standing on the platform of the station they had just left. He had evidently reached his journey’s end and was patiently waiting for some one to come and lead him away—or at least this was what Rod imagined the situation to be. In reality, that same young man, with unimpaired eyesight and no longer wearing smoked glasses, was on board the express special at that very moment. He had sprung on to the forward platform of the money car undetected in the darkness as the train left the circle of station lights and was now on its roof fastening a light rope ladder to a ledge just above one of the middle and half-glazed doors of the car. A red flannel mask concealed the lower half of hisface, and as he swung himself down on his frail and fearfully swaying support he held a powerful navy revolver in his right hand. He was taking frightful risks to win a desperate game. Failing in his effort to conceal himself aboard the very train he intended to rob, he had taken passage on the “Limited” as far as its first stopping-place and had there awaited the coming of the Express Special. Thus far his reckless venture had succeeded, and as Rod sat in the coach thinking pityingly of him, he was covering the unsuspecting messenger in the money car with his revolver.
“What would I do if I were blind?” thought Rod. “I suppose uncle would take care of me; but how humiliating it would be to have to go back to him helpless and dependent. How thankful I should be that I can see besides being well and strong and able to care for myself. I will do it too without asking help from any one, and I’ll win such a name for honesty and faithfulness on this road that even Uncle Arms will be compelled to believe whatever I may tell him. I wonder if Snyder could have put that emery into the oil-cup himself? It doesn’t seem as though any one could be so mean.”
Just here a slight incident interrupted the lad’s thoughts so suddenly that he sprang to his feet—unconsciously his eyes had been fixed on the bell-cord that ran through the entire train to the cab of the locomotive. It had hung a little slack, but all at once this slack was jerked up as though some one had pulled the cord. This would have been a signal to stop the train, and if the train were to be stopped at that point something must be wrong. A backward glance showed Conductor Tobin and the other brakeman to be still quietly engaged in conversation. Neither of them could have pulled the cord. Rod stepped to the door and looked out. The train was tearing along at a terrific speed, and the rush of air nearly took away his breath. There was no sign of slackening speed and everything appeared to be all right. The next car ahead of the coach was the money car. At least Conductor Tobin had thought so, though none of the trainmen was ever quite sure which one of the half dozen or more express cars it was. Its rear door was of course closed and locked, but some impulse moved Rod to clamber up on its platform railing and peer through the little hole by which the bell-cord entered. He could not seemuch, but that which was disclosed in a single glimpse almost caused his heart to cease its beating. Within his range of vision came the heads of two men evidently engaged in a struggle and one of them wore a mask over the lower part of his face. The next instant Rod had sprung down from his perilous perch and dashed back into the coach shouting breathlessly:
“There’s a masked man fighting the messenger in the money car!”
OVER THE TOP OF THE TRAIN.
At Rodman’s startling announcement Conductor Tobin sprang to his feet, reached for the bell-cord, and gave it two sharp pulls. A single whistle blast from the locomotive made instant reply that his signal was received and understood. So promptly was it obeyed that as the conductor and his two brakemen ran to the front platform to swing far out and look along the sides of the express cars ahead of them, the grinding brakes were already reducing the speed of the flying train.
Suddenly a pistol shot rang angrily out, and a bullet crashed into the woodwork close above Rod Blake’s head. He and the conductor were leaning out on one side while the other brakeman occupied the opposite one.
“Give the signal to go ahead at once, or I’ll come back there and blow your brains out!”came in a hoarse voice from a side door of the money car.
“All right, I’ll do it; only don’t shoot,” shouted Conductor Tobin in answer, giving the desired signal to the engineman, by raising and lowering his lantern vertically, as he spoke. At the same time he said hurriedly to the brakeman on the opposite side of the platform, and thus concealed from the robber’s view:
“Drop off, Tom, and run back to number 10. Telegraph ahead to all stations, and we’ll bag that fellow yet!”
The man did as directed, swinging low and giving a forward spring that landed him safely beside the track, though the train was still moving fully twenty miles an hour.
The engineman, though greatly puzzled at receiving the signal to go ahead immediately after being ordered to stop, had obeyed it, thrown off brakes, and the train was again gathering its usual headway.
“Now Rod,” said Conductor Tobin, as the other brakeman disappeared; “I want you to make your way over the top of the train to the engine, and tell Eli what is taking place. Tell him to keep her wideopen till we reach Millbank, and not to give her the “air” till we are well up with the station. It’s a tough job for you, and one I hate to send you on. At the same time it’s got to be done, and after your experience on the freight deck, I believe you are the lad to undertake it. Anyway, you’ll be safe from that pistol when once you reach the cab.”
“But I don’t like to leave you here alone to be shot,” remonstrated Rod.
“Never mind me. I don’t believe I’ll get shot. At any rate, this is my place, and here I must stay. Now move along, and God bless you.”
There was a strong hand-clasp between the conductor and brakeman, and then the latter started on the perilous journey he had been ordered to undertake. It was no easy task to maintain a footing on the rounded roofs of those express cars as they were hurled on through the night at the rate of nearly a mile a minute; while to leap from one to another seemed almost suicidal. Not more than one brakeman in a thousand could have done it; but Rod Blake, with his light weight, athletic training, and recent experience combined with absolute fearlessness, was that one. His inclination was to get down on his hands andknees and crawl along the slippery roofs. If he had yielded to it he would never have accomplished the trip. He believed that the only way to make it was by running and clearing the spaces between cars with flying leaps, and, incredible as it may seem, that is the way he did it. He had kicked off his shoes before starting, and now ran with stockinged feet.
The occupants of the cab were as startled by his appearance beside them as though he had been a ghost, and when his story was told the engineman wanted to stop the train at once and go back to the assistance of the imperilled messenger. Rod however succeeded in persuading him that, as the messenger’s fate was probably already decided, their only hope of capturing the robber lay in carrying out Conductor Tobin’s plan of running at such speed that he would not dare jump from the train until a station prepared for his reception was reached.
When the engineman finally agreed to this, and before he could utter the remonstrance that sprang to his lips, Rodman clambered back over the heaped-up coal of the tender, swung himself to the roof of the forward car and began to retrace his perilous journey to the rear end of the train. He argued that if Conductor Tobin’s place was back thereexposed to the shots of a desperate man, his brakeman’s place was beside him. Even if Rod had not been a railroad boy, or “man,” as he now called himself, his natural bravery and sense of honor would have taken him back to that coach. Ever since he had enlisted in the service that demands as strict obedience as that required of a soldier and an equal contempt of danger, this lad was doubly alert to the call of whatever he regarded as duty. There is no service in the world, outside of the army, so nearly resembling it in requirements and discipline as that of a railroad. It is no place for cowards nor weaklings; but to such a lad as Rod Blake it adds the stimulus of excitement and ever-present danger and the promise of certain promotion and ample reward for the conscientious performance of every-day duties.
So Rod, feeling in duty bound to do so, made his way back over the reeling roofs of that on-rushing train to the side of his superior officer. As he scrambled and slipped and leaped from car to car he fully realized the imminent peril of his situation, but was at the same time filled with a wild exhilaration and buoyance of spirits such as he had never before known.
Conductor Tobin, standing just inside the coach door with pale face and set lips, was amazed to see him. For a moment he fancied the lad had been daunted by the task imposed upon him and had turned back without reaching the locomotive. When he realized that Rod had not only made the perilous trip once, but twice, his admiration was unbounded, and though he tried to scold him for his foolhardiness the words refused to come. He shook the young brakeman’s hand so heartily instead that the action conveyed a volume of praise and appreciation.
Now, as they watched together with an intense eagerness for the lights of Millbank they became conscious of a yellow glare, like that of an open furnace, streaming from the side door of the money car.
“The scoundrel has set the car on fire!” gasped Conductor Tobin.
“Don’t you think we ought to break in the door with an axe and make a rush for him?” asked Rod.
Before the other could reply, a long, ear-splitting whistle blast announcing their approach to a station sounded from the locomotive.
STOP THIEF!
As Train Number 29 dashed up to the Millbank station and was brought to a stop almost as suddenly as a spirited horse is reined back on his haunches by a curb bit, the many flashing lanterns guarding all approaches, and the confused throng of dark forms on its platform told that Brakeman Tom had performed his duty and that its arrival was anticipated.
The abruptness of this unexpected stop caused the messengers in the several cars to open their doors and look out inquiringly. At the same time, and even before it was safe to do so, Conductor Tobin and Rod dropped to the ground and ran to the door of the money car. The glare of firelight streaming from it attracted others to the same spot. There were loud cries for buckets and water, and almost before the car wheels ceased to slide on thepolished rails a score of willing hands were drenching out the fire of way-bills, other papers, and a broken chair that was blazing merrily in the middle of its floor. The flames were already licking the interior woodwork, and but for this opportune stop would have gathered such headway inside of another minute as would not only have destroyed the car but probably the entire train.
The moment the subsiding flames rendered such a thing possible, a rush was made for the inside of the car, but Conductor Tobin calling one of the express messengers and the engineman who had come running back, to aid him, and telling Rod to guard the door, sternly ordered the crowd to keep out until he had made an examination. From his post at the doorway Rod could look in at a sight that filled him with horror. The interior of the car was spattered with blood. On the floor, half hidden beneath a pile of packages, lay the messenger, still alive but unconscious and bleeding from half a dozen wounds. The brave right hand that had tried to pull the bell cord had been shattered by a pistol ball, and the messenger’s own Winchester lay on the floor beside him. Broken packages that had contained money,jewelry, and other valuables were scattered in every direction, while the open safe from which they had come was as empty as the day it was made.
The trainmen became furious as one after another of these mute witnesses told of the outrages so recently perpetrated, and swore vengeance on the robber when they should catch him. They ransacked every corner of the car, but search as they might they could discover no trace of his presence nor of the method of his flight. The man had left the car as he had entered it taking the precaution of removing his rope ladder as he went.
The baffled searchers had just reached the conclusion that he must have leaped from the train in spite of its speed and of Conductor Tobin’s watchfulness, when Rod, who from his position in the doorway could look over the heads of the crowd surrounding the car called out:
“Stop that man! The one with a leather bag slung over his shoulder! Stop him! Stop thief! He is the robber!”
In the glare of an electric light that happened to shine full upon him for a moment, Rod had seen the man walk away from the forward end of thecar next ahead of the one they were searching as though he had just left it. He was not noticed by the bystanders as all eyes were directed toward the door of the money car. To the young brakeman his figure and the stout leather bag that he carried seemed familiar. As he looked, the man raised a kid-gloved hand to shift the position of his satchel, and from it shot the momentary flash of a diamond. With Rod this was enough to at once establish the man’s identity. Although he no longer wore smoked glasses Rod knew him to be the man who, pretending partial blindness, had first boarded the Express Special, then taken passage on the “Limited,” and whom he had seen on the platform of the last station at which they had stopped. How could he have reached Millbank? He must have come by the Express Special, and so must be connected with its robbery.
All these thoughts darted through Rod’s head like a flash of lightning, and as he uttered his shouts of warning he sprang to the ground with a vague idea of preventing the stranger’s escape. At the same moment the crowd surged back upon him, and when he finally cleared himself from it he saw theman backing down the platform, holding his would-be pursuers in check with a levelled pistol, and just disappearing from the circle of electric light.
A minute later two frightened men were driven at the point of a revolver from the cab of a freight locomotive that, under a full head of steam, was standing on the outer one of the two west-bound tracks. They had hardly left it in sole charge of the robber, by whom it had already been uncoupled from its train, before it sprang forward and began to move away through the darkness.
Rod, who was now well in advance of all other pursuers, instantly comprehended the situation. His own train stood on the inner west-bound track and he was near its forward end. The robber with his blood-stained plunder was disappearing before his very eyes, and if lost to view might easily run on for a few miles and then make good his escape. He must not be allowed to do so! He must be kept in sight!
This was Rod’s all-absorbing thought at the moment. Moved by it, he jerked out the coupling-pin, by which the locomotive of the Express Special was attached to its train, leaped into the cab, threwover the lever, pulled open the throttle, and had started on one of the most thrilling races recorded in the annals of railroading, before the astonished fireman, who had been left in charge, found time to remonstrate.
“Look here, young fellow! what are you about?” he shouted, stepping threateningly toward Rod.
“We are about chasing the train robber, who has just gone off with that engine on number four track, and you want to keep up the best head of steam you know how,” was the answer.
“Have we any orders to do so?”
“You have, at any rate, for I give them to you.”
“And who are you? I never saw you before to-night.”
“I am Rod Blake, one of Tobin’s trainmen, and if you don’t quit bothering me with your stupidity and go to work, I’ll pitch you out of this cab!” shouted Rod savagely, in a tone that betrayed the intensity of his nervous excitement.
The man had heard of the young brakeman and of his skill as a boxer, though he had never met him before that night, and his half-formed intention of compelling the lad to turn back was decidedlyweakened by the mention of his name. Still he hesitated. He was a powerful fellow with whom in a struggle Rod could not have held his own for a minute, but he was clearly lacking in what railroad men call “sand.” Suddenly Rod made a movement as though to spring at him, at the same time shouting, “Do as I tell you, sir, and get to work at once!”
A RACE OF LOCOMOTIVES.
In any struggle between two human beings, the one possessed of the more powerful will is certain to win. In the present case, Rod Blake’s will was so much stronger than that of the fireman that the burly fellow obeyed his order, turned sullenly away, and began to shovel coal into the roaring furnace.
Their speed was now tremendous, for though Rod knew but little about the management of a locomotive engine, he did know that the wider the throttle was opened the faster it would go. So he pulled the handle as far back as he dared, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the dark form of the fugitive locomotive disclosed by the glare of their own head-light. Now if he could keep it in sight, and so force the speed, that it would be impossible for the robber to jump off until some largestation was reached, Rod felt that all would yet go well.
Suddenly the runaway seemed to stop. Then it began to move back toward them. In another instant they had dashed past it, but not before two pistol bullets had come crashing through the cab windows. A bit of splintered glass cut Rod’s forehead and a little stream of blood began to trickle down his face. Without heeding it, he shut off steam, reversed, opened again, and within half a minute the pursuers were rushing back over the ground they had just covered.
Again the train robber tried the same game, again the two locomotives flew by each other, and again pistol balls came singing past Rod Blake’s ears. As for the fireman he had flung himself flat on the floor of the cab. Rod could hardly believe that he had not been hit by one of those hissing bullets, but as he felt no wound he again reversed his engine and again dashed ahead.
Now they gained steadily on the fugitive. His steam was giving out, and he had neither the time to renew his supply nor the knowledge of how to do so. The pursuit was decidedly hotter than he hadanticipated, and had not been checked in the least by his pistol shots, as he had hoped it would be. He must try some other plan of escape, and that quickly. He did not know how many men were on that fiercely pursuing locomotive, nor whether they were armed or not. He only knew that within another minute they would overtake him. He formed a desperate resolve, and a moment later Rod Blake thought he saw a dark form scrambling from a ditch beside the track as they flew past. When they reached the “dying” locomotive of which they were in pursuit and found it abandoned, he knew what had taken place. The train robber had leaped from its cab and was now making his way across country on foot.
“We must follow him!” exclaimed Rod.
“You may if you are such a fool; but I’ll be blowed if I will,” answered the fireman.
There was no time to be lost in argument, neither was Rod sure that those locomotives ought to be left unguarded. So, without another word, he dropped to the ground and started on a run across the fields in the direction he was almost certain the fugitive had taken.
The young brakeman soon came to a wagon road running parallel to the railway. Here he was brought to a halt. Which way should he go? To attempt to continue the pursuit in either direction without some definite knowledge to act upon seemed foolish. If he could only discover a house at which to make inquiries, or if some belated traveller would only come that way.
“‘Belated traveller’ is good,” mused Rod as his eye caught a faint glow in the eastern sky. “Here it is almost to-morrow while I thought it was still to-day. What a wild-goose chase I have come on anyway, and what should I do if I overtook the robber? I’m sure I don’t know. I won’t give it up though now that I have started in on it. Hello! Here comes some one now. Perhaps I can learn something from him. Hi, there!”
The sound that had attracted the lad’s attention was that of a rapidly galloping horse, though it was so deadened by the sandy road that he did not hear it until the animal was close upon him. The light was very dim, and as Rod stood in a shadow neither the horse nor its rider perceived him until he started forward and shouted to attract the latter’s attention.
In an instant the startled animal had sprung to one side so suddenly as to fling its rider violently to the ground, where he lay motionless. The horse ran a short distance, then stopped and stood trembling.
Horrified at the result of his hasty action, Rod kneeled beside the motionless man. His head had struck the root of a tree and though the boy could not discover that he was seriously injured, he was unconscious. In vain did the distressed lad attempt to restore him. He had little idea of what to do, there was no water at hand, and to his ignorance it seemed as if the man must be dying. He lifted one of the limp hands to chafe it, and started with amazement at the sight of a diamond ring that had cut its way through the torn and blackened kid glove in which the hand was encased.
Could this be the very train robber of whom he was in pursuit? Where, then, was his leather satchel? Why, there it was, only a few feet away, lying where it had fallen as the man was flung to the ground. Incredible as it seemed, this must be the very man, and now what was to be done? Was ever a fellow placed in a more perplexing situation?He could not revive the unconscious form. Neither could he remove it from that place. Clearly he must have help. As he arrived at this conclusion Rod started on a run down the road, determined to find a habitation and secure human aid.
ARRESTED ON SUSPICION.
As Rod started on his quest for assistance the riderless horse, which had begun to nibble grass by the roadside, lifted his head with a snort that brought the lad to a sudden halt. Why not make use of this animal if he could catch it? Certainly his mission could be accomplished more quickly on horseback than on foot. He started gently toward it, holding out his hand and speaking soothingly; but the cautious animal tossed its head and began to move away. “How much he resembles Juniper,” thought Rod. “Here, Juniper! Here June, old fellow!” he called. At the sound of his name the horse wheeled about and faced the lad in whose company he had recently undergone such a thrilling experience. The next instant Rod grasped the animal’s halter, for it had neither saddle nor bridle, and Juniper was evidently recognizing him.
As the young brakeman was about to leap on the horse’s back it occurred to him that the leather bag, which was undoubtedly filled with valuable plunder from the rifled express car ought not to be left lying in the road. No, it would be much better to carry it to a place of safety. With this thought came a recollection of the pistol shots so lately fired by the man at his feet. Would it not be well to disarm him lest he should revive and again prove dangerous before assistance could be found and brought to the place. Rod believed it would, and, acting upon the thought, transferred two revolvers from the train-robber’s pockets to his own. Then, after dragging the still unconscious man a little to one side beyond danger from any wagon that might happen along, the lad slung the heavy satchel over his shoulder, scrambled on to Juniper’s back and galloped away.
The road was a lonely one, and he rode more than a mile before reaching a farm-house. Here the excited lad rapped loudly on the front door and shouted. No one was yet astir, and several minutes passed before an upper window was cautiously opened and a woman’s voice inquired who was there and what was wanted.
Rod began to explain his errand; but after a few words the woman called to him to wait until she could come down, and then slammed the window down. To the young brakeman’s impatience the ensuing delay seemed an hour in length, though in reality not more than five minutes elapsed before the front door opened and the woman again appeared.
“Now, what were you trying to tell me about men dying in the road?” she asked sharply.
As Rod was about to reply there came a sound of galloping horses and a shout from the place where he had left Juniper fastened to a fence post.
“There he is!”
“Now we’ve got him!”
“Throw up your hands, you scoundrel!”
“Don’t you dare draw a pistol or we’ll fill you full of holes!”
These and a score of similar cries came to the ears of the bewildered lad as half a dozen horsemen dashed up to the front gate, and four of them, leaping to the ground, ran towards him while the others held the horses.
He was too astonished even to remonstrate, and as they seized him he submitted to the indignity as quietly as one who is dazed.
The woman in the doorway regarded this startling scene with amazement. When in answer to her eager questions the new-comers told her that the young desperado whom she had so nearly admitted to her house was a horse-thief, who, but a short time before, had stolen the animal now tied to her front fence, at the point of a revolver from the man who was leading him to water, she said she wouldn’t have believed that such a mere boy could be so great a villian.
“It’s the truth though,” affirmed the man who acted as spokesman. “Isn’t it, Al?”
“Yes, siree,” replied Al, a heavy-looking young farm hand. “An more ’n that, he fired at me too afore I’d give up the ’orse. Oh, yes, he’s a bad un, young as he looks, an hangin’ wouldn’t be none too good for him.”
“I did nothing of the kind!” cried Rod, indignantly, now finding a chance to speak. “This is an outrage, and——”
“Is this the fellow, Al?” asked the spokesman, interrupting the young brakeman’s vehement protest.
“Of course it is. I’d know him anywhere by that bag slung over his shoulders, an he’s got pistols in his pockets, too.”
“Yes, here they are,” replied the leader, thrusting his hands into Rod’s coat pockets and drawing forth the two revolvers. “Oh, there’s no use talking, young man. The proof against you is too strong. The only thing for you to do is to come along quietly and make the best of the situation. Horse thieves have been getting altogether too plenty in this part of the country of late, and we’ve been laying for one to make an example of for more ’n a week now. Its mighty lucky for you that you didn’t tackle an armed man instead of Al there, this morning. If you had you’d have got a bullet instead of a horse.”
“But I tell you,” cried Rod, “that I took those things from a man who was flung from that horse back here in the road about a mile. He is——”
“I haven’t any doubt that you took them,” interrupted the man, grimly, “the same as you took the horse.”
“And I only made use of the horse to obtain assistance for him the more quickly,” continued Rod. “I left him stunned by his fall, and he may be dead by this time. He will be soon, anyway, if some one doesn’t go to him, and then you’ll be murderers, that’s what you’ll be.”
“Let us examine this bag that you admit you took from somebody without his permission, and see what it contains,” said the man quietly, paying no heed to the lad’s statement. So saying, he opened the satchel that still hung from Rod’s shoulders. At the sight of its contents he uttered an exclamation of amazement.
“Well, if this don’t beat anything I ever heard of!”
The others crowded eagerly about him.
“Whew! look at the greenbacks!” cried one.
“And gold!” shouted another.
“He must have robbed a bank!”
“There’ll be a big reward offered for this chap.”
“He’s a more desperate character than we thought.”
“A regular jail-bird!”
“There’s blood on some of these bills!”
“He ought to be tied.”
This last sentiment met with such general approval that some one produced a bit of rope, and in another moment poor Rod’s hands were securely bound together behind him.
THE TRAIN ROBBER LEARNS OF ROD’S ARREST.
“I tell you the man who did it all is lying back there in the road!” screamed Rod, furious with indignation at this outrage and almost sobbing with the bitterness of his distress. “He is a train robber, and I’m a passenger brakeman on the New York and Western road. He made an escape and I was chasing him.”
“Just listen to that now,” said one of the men jeeringly. “It’s more than likely you are the train robber yourself.”
“Looks like a brakeman, doesn’t he?” sneered another, “especially as they are all obliged to wear a uniform when on duty.”
“He’s a nice big party of men, he is. Just such a one as the railroad folks would collect and send in pursuit of a train robber,” remarked the leader ironically. “Oh, no, my lad, that’s too thin. Ifyou must tell lies I’d advise you to invent some that folks might have a living chance of believing.”
“It’s not a lie!” declared Rod earnestly and almost calmly; for though his face was quite pale with suppressed excitement, he was regaining control of his voice. “It’s the solemn truth and I’m willing to swear to it.”
“Oh, hush, sonny, don’t swear. That would be naughty,” remonstrated one of the men, mockingly.
Without noticing him, Rod continued: “If you will only take me back about a mile on the road I will show you the real train robber, and so prove that part of my story. Then at Millbank I can prove the rest.”
“Look here, young fellow,” said the leader, harshly, “why will you persist in such nonsense? We have just came over that part of the road and we didn’t see anything of any man lying in it.”
“Because I dragged him to one side,” explained Rod.
“Oh, well, you’ll have a chance to show us your man if you can find him, for we are going to take you back that way anyhow. Come on, fellows, let’s be moving. The sooner we get this younghorse-thief behind bolts and bars the sooner we’ll be rid of an awkward responsibility.”
So poor Rod, still bound, was placed on Juniper’s back, and, with one man on each side of him, two in front and two behind, rode unhappily back over the road that he had traversed on an errand of mercy but a short time before.
As the little group disappeared, the woman in whose front yard this exciting arrest had been made turned to hasten the preparations for her children’s breakfast that she might the sooner visit her nearest neighbors and tell them of these wonderful happenings. She was filled with the belief that she had had a most remarkable escape, and was eager to have her theory confirmed.
When she finally reached her neighbor’s house and burst in upon them breathless and unannounced, she was somewhat taken aback to see a strange young man, wearing a pair of smoked glasses and having a very pale face, sitting at breakfast with them. The woman of the house informed her in a whisper, that he was a poor theological student making his way on foot back to college in order to save travelling expenses, and though he had onlystopped to ask for a glass of water they had insisted upon his taking breakfast with them.
Then the visitor unburdened herself of her budget of startling news, ending up with: “An’ I knew he was a desp’rate character the minit I set eyes onto him, for I’m a master-hand at reading faces, I am. Why, sir,” here she turned to the pale student by whose evident interest in her story she was greatly flattered, “I could no more take him for the honest lad he claimed to be than I would take you for a train robber. No, indeed. A face is like a printed page to me every time and I’m not likely to be fooled, I can tell you.”
“It is truly a wonderful gift,” murmured the young man as he rose from the table and started to leave the house, excusing his haste on the plea of having a long distance still to travel.
“What a saintly expression that young man has!” exclaimed the visitor, watching him out of sight, “and what a preacher he will make!”
At the same moment he of the smoked glasses was saying to himself: “So that is what happened while I lay there like a log by the roadside, is it? Well, it’s hard luck; but certainly I ought to be ableto turn the information furnished by that silly woman to some good account.”
In the meantime poor Rod was far from enjoying a morning ride that under other circumstances would have proved delightful. The sun shone from an unclouded sky, the air was deliciously cool and bracing, and the crisp autumn leaves of the forest-road rustled pleasantly beneath the horses’ feet. But the boy was thinking too intently, and his thoughts were of too unpleasant a nature for him to take note of these things. He was wondering what would happen in case the train robber should not be found where he had left him.
He was not left long in suspense, for when they reached the place that he was certain was the right one there was no man, unconscious or otherwise, to be seen on either side or in any direction. He had simply regained his senses soon after Rod left him, staggered to his feet, and, with ever increasing strength, walked slowly along the road. He finally discovered a side path through the woods that led him to the farm-house where, on account of his readily concocted tale, he received and accepted a cordial invitation to breakfast.
As for Rod, his disappointment at not finding the proof of which he had been so confident was so great that he hardly uttered a protest, when instead of carrying him to Millbank or any other station on the line where he might have found friends, his captors turned into a cross-road from the left and journeyed directly away from the railroad.
In about an hour they reached the village of Center where the young brakeman, escorted by half the population of the place, was conducted through the main street to the county jail. Here he was delivered to the custody of the sheriff with such an account of his terrible deeds, and strict injunctions as to his safe keeping, that the official locked him into the very strongest of all his cells. As the heavy door clanged in his face, and Rod realized that he was actually a prisoner, he vaguely wondered if railroad men often got into such scrapes while attempting the faithful discharge of their duties.
A WELCOME VISITOR.
To be cast into jail and locked up in a cell is not a pleasant experience even for one who deserves such a fate; while to an honest lad like Rodman Blake who had only tried to perform what he considered his duty to the best of his ability, it was terrible. In vain did he assure himself that his friends would soon discover his predicament and release him from it. He could not shake off the depressing influence of that narrow room, of the forbidding white walls, and the grim grating of the massive door. He was too sensible to feel any sense of disgrace in being thus wrongfully imprisoned; but the horror of the situation remained, and it seemed as though he should suffocate behind those bars if not speedily released.
In the meantime the sheriff, whose breakfast had been interrupted by the arrival of the self-appointedconstables and their prisoner, returned to his own pleasant dining-room to finish that meal. He was a bachelor, and the only other occupant of the room was his mother, who kept house for him, and was one of the dearest old ladies in the world. She was a Quakeress, and did not at all approve of her son’s occupation. As she could not change it, however, she made the best use of the opportunities for doing good afforded by his position, and many a prisoner in that jail found occasion to bless the sheriff’s mother. She visited them all, did what she could for their comfort, and talked with them so earnestly, at the same time so kindly and with such ready sympathy, that several cases of complete reformation could be traced directly to her influence. Now her interest was quickly aroused by her son’s account of the youthful prisoner just delivered into his keeping, and she sighed deeply over the story of his wickedness.
“Is it certain that he did all these things, Robert?” she asked at length.
“Oh, I guess there is no doubt of it. He was caught almost in the very act,” answered the sheriff, carelessly.
“And thee says he is young?”
“Yes, hardly more than a boy.”
“Does thee think he has had any breakfast?”
“Probably not; but I’ll carry him some after I’ve been out and fed the cattle,” answered her son, who was a farmer as well as a sheriff.
“Is thee willing I should take it to him?”
“Certainly, if you want to, only be very careful about locking everything securely after you,” replied the sheriff, who was accustomed to requests of this kind. “I don’t know why you should trouble yourself about him though, I’ll feed him directly.”
“Why should we ever trouble ourselves, Robert, about those who are strangers, or sick, or in prison? Besides, perhaps the poor lad has no mother, while just now he must sorely feel the need of one.”
Thus it happened that a few minutes later Rod Blake was startled from his unhappy reverie by the appearance of an old lady in a dove-colored dress, a snowy cap and kerchief, in front of his door. As she unlocked it and stepped inside, he saw that she bore in her hands a tray on which a substantial breakfast was neatly arranged. The lad sprang to his feet, but faint from hunger and exhaustion ashe was, he cast only one glance at the tempting tray. Then he gazed earnestly into the face of his visitor.
Setting the tray down on a stool, for there was no table in the cell, the old lady said: “I thought thee might be hungry my poor lad, and so have brought thee a bit of breakfast.”
“Oh, madam! Don’t you know me? Don’t you remember me?” cried Rod eagerly.
Although startled by the boy’s vehemence, the old lady adjusted her spectacles and regarded him carefully. “I can’t say that I do,” she said at length, in a troubled tone. “And yet thy face bears a certain look of familiarity. Where have I ever seen thee before?”
“Don’t you remember one morning a few weeks ago when you were in a railroad station, and dropped your purse, and I picked it up, and you gave me a quarter for seeing you safely on the train? Don’t you? I’m sure you must remember.”
The old lady was nervously wiping her spectacles. As she again adjusted them and gazed keenly at the boy, a flash of recognition lighted her face and she exclaimed, “Of course I do! Of course I do! Thee is that same honest lad who restored every cent ofthe money that but for thee I might have lost! But what does it all mean? And how came thee here in this terrible place?”
Rod was only too thankful to have a listener at once so interested and sympathetic as this one. Forgetful of his hunger and the waiting breakfast beside him, he at once began the relating of his adventures, from the time of first meeting with the dear old lady down to the present moment. It was a long story and was so frequently interrupted by questions that its telling occupied nearly an hour.
At its conclusion the old lady, who was at once smiling and tearful, bent over and kissed the boy on his forehead, saying:
“Bless thee, lad! I believe every word of thy tale, for thee has an honest face, and an honest tongue, as well as a brave heart. Thee has certainly been cruelly rewarded for doing thy duty. Never mind, thy troubles are now ended, for my son shall quickly summons the friends who will not only prove thy innocence and release thee from this place, but must reward thy honest bravery. First, though, thee must eat thy breakfast and I must go to fetcha cup of hot coffee, for this has become cold while we talked.”
So saying the old lady bustled away with a reassuring little nod and a cheery smile that to poor Rod was like a gleam of sunlight shining into a dark place. As she went, the old lady not only left his cell door unlocked but wide open for she had privately decided that the young prisoner should not be locked in again if she could prevent it.
THE SHERIFF IS INTERVIEWED.
While this pleasant recognition of old acquaintances was taking place in the jail, the sheriff was sitting in his office and submitting to be interviewed by a young man who had introduced himself as a reporter from one of the great New York dailies. He was a pleasant young man, very fluent of speech, and he treated the sheriff with a flattering deference. He explained that while in the village on other business he had incidentally heard of the important arrest made that morning and thought that if the sheriff would kindly give him a few particulars he might collect material for a good story. Pleased with the idea of having his name appear in a New York paper the sheriff readily acceded to this request and gave his visitor all the information he possessed. The young man was so interested, and took such copious notes ofeverything the sheriff said, that the latter was finally induced to relax somewhat of his customary caution, and take from his safe the leather bag that had been captured on the person of the alleged horse-thief. The sheriff had opened this bag when he first received it, and had glanced at its contents, of which he intended to make a careful inventory at his first leisure moment. As this had not yet arrived, he was still ignorant of what the bag really contained. He knew, however, that its contents must be of great value and produced it to prove to the reporter that the young prisoner whom they were discussing was something more than a mere horse-thief.
While the sheriff was still fumbling with the spring-catch of the bag, and before he had opened it, there came the sounds of a fall just outside the door, a crash of breaking china, and a cry in his mother’s voice. Forgetful of all else, the man dropped the bag, sprang to the door, and disappeared in the hall beyond, leaving his visitor alone. In less than two minutes he returned, saying that his mother had slipped and fallen on the lowest step of the stairway she was descending. She had broken a cup and saucer, but was herself unhurt, for which he wasdeeply grateful. As the sheriff made this brief explanation, he cast a relieved glance at the leather bag that still lay on the floor where he had dropped it, and at some distance from the chair in which the young man was sitting.
Again he took up the bag to open it, and again he was interrupted. This time the interruption came in the shape of a messenger from the telegraph office, bringing the startling news of the recent train robbery and the daring escape of its perpetrator. The sheriff first read this despatch through to himself, and then handed it to his visitor, who had watched his face with eager interest while he read it. The moment he had glanced through the despatch, the young man started to his feet, exclaiming that such an important bit of news as that would materially alter his plans. Then he begged the sheriff to excuse him while he ran down to the telegraph office, and asked his paper for permission to remain there a few days longer. He said that he should like nothing better than a chance to assist in the capture of this desperate train robber, which he had no doubt would be speedily effected by the sheriff. He also promised to call again very shortlyfor further information, provided his paper gave him permission to remain.
The sheriff was not at all sorry to have his visitor depart, as the despatch just received had given new direction to his thoughts, and he was wondering if there could be any connection between the train robber, the young horse-thief, and the bag of valuables that lay unopened on his desk. He glanced curiously at it, and determined to make a thorough examination of its contents as soon as he had written and sent off several despatches containing his suspicions, asking for further information and requesting the presence at the jail of such persons as would be able to identify the train robber.
As he finished these, his mother, who had been preparing a fresh cup of coffee for Rod, entered the office full of her discovery in connection with the young prisoner and of the startling information he had given her. She would have come sooner but for the presence of her son’s visitor, before whom she did not care to divulge her news.
Although the sheriff listened with interest to all she had to say, he expressed a belief that the young prisoner had taken advantage of her kindly nature,to work upon her sympathies with a plausible but easily concocted story.
“But I tell thee, Robert, I recognize the lad as the same who helped me on the train the last time I went to York.”
“That may be, and still he may be a bad one.”
“Never, with such a face! It is as honest as thine, Robert. Of that I am certain, and if thee will only talk with him, I am convinced thee will think as I do. Nor will thee relock the door that I left open?”
“What!” exclaimed the sheriff; “you haven’t left his cell-door unlocked, mother, after the strict charges I gave you concerning that very thing?”
“Yes, I have, Robert,” answered the old lady, calmly; “and but for the others I would have left the corridor-door unlocked also. I was mindful of them, though, and of thy reputation.”
“I’m thankful you had that much common-sense,” muttered her son; “and now, with your permission, I will take that cup of coffee, which I suppose you intend for your youngprotegé, up to him myself.”
“And thee’ll speak gently with him?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll talk to him like a Dutch uncle.”
Thus it happened that when the door at the end of the jail corridor was swung heavily back on its massive hinges, and Rod Blake, who had been gazing from one of the corridor windows, looked eagerly toward it, he was confronted by the stern face of the sheriff instead of the placidly sweet one of the old lady, whom he expected to see.
“What are you doing out here, sir? Get back into your cell at once!” commanded the sheriff in an angry tone.
“Oh, sir! please don’t lock me in there again. It doesn’t seem as though I could stand it,” pleaded Rod.
The sheriff looked searchingly at the lad. His face was certainly a very honest one, and to one old lady at least he had been kindly considerate. At the thought of the ready help extended by this lad to his own dearly-loved mother in the time of her perplexity, the harsh words that the sheriff had meditated faded from his mind, and instead of uttering them he said:
“Very well; I will leave your cell-door open, if you will give me your promise not to attempt an escape.”
And Rod promised.
LIGHT DAWNS UPON THE SITUATION.
On leaving Rodman the sheriff was decidedly perplexed. His prisoner’s honest face had made a decided impression upon him, and he had great confidence in his mother’s judgment concerning such cases, though he was careful never to admit this to her. At the same time all the circumstances pointed so strongly to the lad’s guilt that, as he reviewed them there hardly seemed a doubt of it. It is a peculiarity of sheriffs and jailers to regard a prisoner as guilty until he has been proved innocent. Nevertheless this sheriff gave his mother permission to visit Rod as often as she liked; only charging her to lock the corridor-door both upon entering and leaving the jail. So the dear old lady again toiled up the steep stairway, this time laden with books and papers. She found the tired lad stretched on his hard pallet and fast asleep, so she tiptoed softly away again without wakening him.
While the young prisoner was thus forgetting his troubles, and storing up new strength with which to meet them, the sheriff was scouring the village and its vicinity for traces of any stranger who might be the train robber. But strangers were scarce in Center that day and the only one he could hear of was the reporter who had interviewed him that morning. He had gone directly to the telegraph office where he had sent off the despatch of which he had spoken, to the New York paper he claimed to represent. In it he had requested an answer to be sent to Millbank, and he had subsequently engaged a livery team with which he declared his intention of driving to that place.
Center, though not on the New York and Western railway, was on another that approached the former more closely at this point than at any other. To facilitate an exchange of freight a short connecting link had been built by both roads between Center and Millbank. Over this no regular trains were run, but all the transfer business was conducted by specials controlled by operators at either end of the branch. Consequently the few travellers between the two places waited until a train happened alongor, if they were in a hurry, engaged a team as the reporter had done.
Soon after noon the owner of Juniper, the stolen horse, accompanied by the thick-headed young farm hand from whom the animal had been taken, appeared at the jail in answer to the sheriff’s request for his presence. These visitors were at once taken to Rod’s cell, where the young prisoner greatly refreshed by his nap, sat reading one of the books left by the dear old lady. His face lighted with a glad recognition at sight of Juniper’s owner, and at the same moment that gentleman exclaimed:
“Why, sheriff, this can’t be the horse-thief! I know this lad. That is I engaged him not long since to bring that very horse up here to my brother’s place where I am now visiting. You remember me, don’t you, young man?”
“Of course I do so, sir, and I am ever so glad to see some one who knew me before all these horrid happenings. Now if you will only make that fellow explain why he said I was the one who threatened to shoot him, and stole Juniper from him, when he knows he never set eyes on me before I was arrested, I shall be ever so much obliged.”
“How is this, sir?” inquired the gentleman, turning sharply upon the young farm hand behind him. “Didn’t you tell me you were willing to take oath that the lad whom you caused to be arrested and the horse-thief were one and the same person?”
“Y-e-e-s, s-i-r,” hesitated the thick head.
“Are you willing to swear to the same thing now?”
“N-n-o, your honor,—that is, not hexactly. Someway he don’t look the same now as he did then.”
“Then you don’t think he is the person who took the horse from you?”
“No, sir, I can’t rightly say as I do now, seeing as the man with the pistols was bigger every way than this one. If ’e ’adn’t been ’e wouldn’t got the ’orse so heasy, I can tell you, sir. Besides it was so hearly that the light was dim an’ I didn’t see ’is face good anyway. But when we caught him ’e ’ad the ’orse an’ the bag an’ the pistols.”
“When you caught who?”
“The ’orse-thief. I mean this young man.”
“And you recognized him then?”
“Yes, sir, I knowed ’im by the bag, an’ the ’orse.”
“But you say he was a much larger man than this one.”
“Oh, yes, sir! He was more ’n six foot an’ as big across the shoulders as two of ’im.”
Rod could not help smiling at this, as he recalled the slight figure of the train robber who had appropriated Juniper to his own use.
“This is evidently a badly-mixed case of mistaken identity,” said the gentleman, turning to the sheriff, “and I most certainly shall not prefer any charge against this lad. Why, in connection with that same horse he recently performed one of the pluckiest actions I ever heard of.” Here the speaker narrated the story of Rod’s struggle with Juniper in utter darkness and within the narrow limits of a closed box-car.
At its conclusion, the sheriff who was a great admirer of personal bravery, extended his hand to Rod, saying: “I believe you to be the honest lad you claim to be, and an almighty plucky one as well. As such I want to shake hands with you. I must also state that as this gentleman refuses to enter a complaint against you I can no longer hold you prisoner. In fact I am somewhat doubtful whether I have done right in detaining you as long as I have without a warrant. Still, I want you to remain withus a few hours more, or until the arrival of certain parties for whom I have sent to come and identify the train robber.”
“Meaning me?” asked Rod, with a smile. He could afford to smile now. In fact he was inclined to laugh and shout for joy over the favorable turn his fortunes appeared to be taking.
“Yes, meaning you,” replied the sheriff good-humoredly. “And to show how fully persuaded I am that you are the train robber, I hereby invite you to accompany us down-stairs in the full exercise of your freedom and become the honored guest of my dear mother for whom you recently performed so kindly a service. She told me of that at the time, and I am aware now, that I have not really doubted that you were what you claimed to be, since she recognized you as the one who then befriended her. I tell you, lad, it always pays in one way or another, to extend a helping hand to grandfathers and grandmothers, and to remember that we shall probably be in need of like assistance ourselves some day.”