CHAPTER XXSTRANGE SIGNALSThe pilot of the great engine was within six feet of the flaming figure when the train was stopped. And Ralph knew, and unhappily, that several of the coach wheels were so badly flattened by the pressure of the brakes that they would have to go to the shops to be replaned.This thought was back in his head, however. First and foremost he wanted to know what this was ahead—this strange signal that had caused him to bring the Flyer to such an abrupt stop.One of the firemen leaped to the cinder path and ran ahead. In a moment he turned and waved his arms madly.“It’s a scarecrow! I believe it came out of yonder cornfield. A scarecrow all afire!”He kicked the blazing figure and it fell over, the straw contents of the old coat and trousers flaring up into a more vivid flame.“Somebody has played a joke on us,” shouted the other fireman. “And a pretty poor joke, at that.”“Maybe it is no joke,” was Ralph’s comment. “Stilling, you go forward with a lantern. If all’s clear at the next curve give us a high-ball. There may be something more than a joke in this mysterious affair. Hurry up, now!”Stilling ran ahead. The conductor came forward, worried about the delay. The violent stopping of the train had awakened many of the passengers and the Pullmans, he said, were buzzing.“Let ’em buzz,” replied Ralph carelessly.Stilling’s lantern flitted on like a firefly’s light. Ralph’s gaze was fixed upon it. He hoped to see the sign given by the lamp that the way was clear.But when Stilling reached the long curve that began nearly an eighth of a mile beyond the point where the Flyer had been brought to a stop, he halted—they could see that by the motion of the lantern—and then went on slowly. By and by he signaled:“Come ahead—slow.”There was something wrong. The conductor knew this as well as the young engineer. The former’s lantern signaled a question back to his flagman. The latter brought in his lantern from the other curve, signaled “All aboard!” and Ralph started forward.There was just slant enough to the roadbed here to make it necessary for the engineer to keep some pressure of brakes on the wheels. The heavy train slid down to the place where Stilling had stopped.When the train again came to a halt the headlight did not show the rails for more than ten yards. But it picked out the beginning of a short trestle by which the rails were carried over a deep ravine.Stilling walked back beside the huge boiler of the locomotive and spoke no word until he was directly under Ralph’s window. He was pale. His lips writhed before he could speak, and what he said was in a voice so husky that the listeners could scarcely understand him.“One pillar’s been blown out—blown to pieces. The rails are sagging—have to be braced before anything can get over. Great guns! if we’d come down here at the usual speed, the old mill and every wagon in the string would have been piled in a heap down there in the Devil’s Den!”“By gum!” exclaimed the other fireman. “I thought I got some sound like an explosion as we came down the hill. The dynamite must have gone off only a few minutes ago.”“That burning scarecrow saved all our lives,” muttered Ralph. “Who did that?”“If there are ghouls around trying to wreck the train, and there are, then there are likewise watchers who defended us from harm. We have somebody to thank,” said the conductor.There was no more comment on this mysterious thing by the train and engine crew for some time thereafter. There was too much else to do. Somebody had to go forward to the nearest station and telegraph for wrecking crew and other help.A terrible disaster had barely been averted. The passengers aboard the Midnight Flyer on this occasion would not be likely soon to forget the incident. Stilling had not overstated the horror that had been averted.The wires certainly buzzed now, up and down the division. The express was delayed fully two hours, although the wrecking train was brought down from Oxford in record time. The freights began to pile up on both tracks. If this dastardly attempt to wreck the Midnight Flyer was the act of the strikers, they had come near to doing what Andy McCarrey threatened. The division might have been tied up for a couple of days if Ralph’s train had plunged into the Devil’s Den.Some of the crew looked into the matter of the burning scarecrow that had so luckily warned the engine crew of trouble ahead. The straw-stuffed figure had been taken from a small field of corn bordering the right of way. The owner of the field lived at some distance, but he came over to see what had happened.“I was woke up by that big explosion,” he declared. “I thought it was a blast in the quarry. Quarry is ten miles away, though. And then I began to wonder why they were blasting at night. So I got up and looked out, and saw the lights of the train and knew something had happened, because it was standing still. So I came over.”As it chanced, Ralph heard him and he asked the farmer:“Have you seen any suspicious persons around here lately?”“Don’t know as I did. There’s been a young feller come to my place off and on for a week or more. But he ain’t what you’d call suspicious. He bought eggs and potatoes and such, and paid for ’em with good money. He didn’t look bad enough to want to ditch a train. No, sir.”There were too many people around for Ralph to describe Zeph Dallas to this man and try to find out if the fellow he spoke of was his friend. Yet he could not help believing that Zeph was still in this vicinity and that he had taken the desperate chance of stopping the Midnight Flyer with the burning scarecrow. Yet, if this was so, why had Zeph not remained to see if his strange signal set against the train had done its work of warning?“Odd enough,” thought Ralph. “Odd enough to have emanated from Zeph’s brain, that is sure. But where did Zeph go, if so, and why?”In any event, Zeph did not show up at the place before the trestle was braced and the express moved on. Ralph got his belated train to Hammerfest, the end of the run, two hours late. He had to start back almost immediately with the forenoon express that was supposed to reach Rockton at half past eleven.When this train reached the scene of the early morning excitement Ralph had to ease her along very slowly. The first repairs on the trestle were by no means permanent.By daylight he could see, from the cab window, the entire scene of what had come so near being an awful catastrophe. On the south side of the right of way at this point was a towering crag. It was covered by scrub growth that masked the rocks, but the young engineer had once climbed that rock and knew that there was more than one path to the top.As he looked upward he saw, caught upon a bush some yards above the level of the railroad, a garment fluttering in the breeze. He was positive, after a moment, that it was a vest—a discarded vest.“Some hobo has left part of his outfit,” thought Ralph.But then, as he raised his eyes higher, he saw another strange signal fluttering from a bush. It was a shirt. He could see the sleeves of it, and it fluttered grotesquely.“Why?” the young engineer muttered.He looked farther up the steep wall and saw a cap! Something about that cap astonished him even more than the other fluttering articles of wearing apparel. Distant as it was, Ralph thought he recognized that cap. It was of a mustard color, an odd color, and he remembered that the night he had had his last adventure with Zeph Dallas in Rockton Zeph had worn just that sort of cap!Then he got the signal to go ahead, and could do nothing at the moment to investigate these matters. He pulled up the hill toward Shadow Valley Station.
The pilot of the great engine was within six feet of the flaming figure when the train was stopped. And Ralph knew, and unhappily, that several of the coach wheels were so badly flattened by the pressure of the brakes that they would have to go to the shops to be replaned.
This thought was back in his head, however. First and foremost he wanted to know what this was ahead—this strange signal that had caused him to bring the Flyer to such an abrupt stop.
One of the firemen leaped to the cinder path and ran ahead. In a moment he turned and waved his arms madly.
“It’s a scarecrow! I believe it came out of yonder cornfield. A scarecrow all afire!”
He kicked the blazing figure and it fell over, the straw contents of the old coat and trousers flaring up into a more vivid flame.
“Somebody has played a joke on us,” shouted the other fireman. “And a pretty poor joke, at that.”
“Maybe it is no joke,” was Ralph’s comment. “Stilling, you go forward with a lantern. If all’s clear at the next curve give us a high-ball. There may be something more than a joke in this mysterious affair. Hurry up, now!”
Stilling ran ahead. The conductor came forward, worried about the delay. The violent stopping of the train had awakened many of the passengers and the Pullmans, he said, were buzzing.
“Let ’em buzz,” replied Ralph carelessly.
Stilling’s lantern flitted on like a firefly’s light. Ralph’s gaze was fixed upon it. He hoped to see the sign given by the lamp that the way was clear.
But when Stilling reached the long curve that began nearly an eighth of a mile beyond the point where the Flyer had been brought to a stop, he halted—they could see that by the motion of the lantern—and then went on slowly. By and by he signaled:
“Come ahead—slow.”
There was something wrong. The conductor knew this as well as the young engineer. The former’s lantern signaled a question back to his flagman. The latter brought in his lantern from the other curve, signaled “All aboard!” and Ralph started forward.
There was just slant enough to the roadbed here to make it necessary for the engineer to keep some pressure of brakes on the wheels. The heavy train slid down to the place where Stilling had stopped.
When the train again came to a halt the headlight did not show the rails for more than ten yards. But it picked out the beginning of a short trestle by which the rails were carried over a deep ravine.
Stilling walked back beside the huge boiler of the locomotive and spoke no word until he was directly under Ralph’s window. He was pale. His lips writhed before he could speak, and what he said was in a voice so husky that the listeners could scarcely understand him.
“One pillar’s been blown out—blown to pieces. The rails are sagging—have to be braced before anything can get over. Great guns! if we’d come down here at the usual speed, the old mill and every wagon in the string would have been piled in a heap down there in the Devil’s Den!”
“By gum!” exclaimed the other fireman. “I thought I got some sound like an explosion as we came down the hill. The dynamite must have gone off only a few minutes ago.”
“That burning scarecrow saved all our lives,” muttered Ralph. “Who did that?”
“If there are ghouls around trying to wreck the train, and there are, then there are likewise watchers who defended us from harm. We have somebody to thank,” said the conductor.
There was no more comment on this mysterious thing by the train and engine crew for some time thereafter. There was too much else to do. Somebody had to go forward to the nearest station and telegraph for wrecking crew and other help.
A terrible disaster had barely been averted. The passengers aboard the Midnight Flyer on this occasion would not be likely soon to forget the incident. Stilling had not overstated the horror that had been averted.
The wires certainly buzzed now, up and down the division. The express was delayed fully two hours, although the wrecking train was brought down from Oxford in record time. The freights began to pile up on both tracks. If this dastardly attempt to wreck the Midnight Flyer was the act of the strikers, they had come near to doing what Andy McCarrey threatened. The division might have been tied up for a couple of days if Ralph’s train had plunged into the Devil’s Den.
Some of the crew looked into the matter of the burning scarecrow that had so luckily warned the engine crew of trouble ahead. The straw-stuffed figure had been taken from a small field of corn bordering the right of way. The owner of the field lived at some distance, but he came over to see what had happened.
“I was woke up by that big explosion,” he declared. “I thought it was a blast in the quarry. Quarry is ten miles away, though. And then I began to wonder why they were blasting at night. So I got up and looked out, and saw the lights of the train and knew something had happened, because it was standing still. So I came over.”
As it chanced, Ralph heard him and he asked the farmer:
“Have you seen any suspicious persons around here lately?”
“Don’t know as I did. There’s been a young feller come to my place off and on for a week or more. But he ain’t what you’d call suspicious. He bought eggs and potatoes and such, and paid for ’em with good money. He didn’t look bad enough to want to ditch a train. No, sir.”
There were too many people around for Ralph to describe Zeph Dallas to this man and try to find out if the fellow he spoke of was his friend. Yet he could not help believing that Zeph was still in this vicinity and that he had taken the desperate chance of stopping the Midnight Flyer with the burning scarecrow. Yet, if this was so, why had Zeph not remained to see if his strange signal set against the train had done its work of warning?
“Odd enough,” thought Ralph. “Odd enough to have emanated from Zeph’s brain, that is sure. But where did Zeph go, if so, and why?”
In any event, Zeph did not show up at the place before the trestle was braced and the express moved on. Ralph got his belated train to Hammerfest, the end of the run, two hours late. He had to start back almost immediately with the forenoon express that was supposed to reach Rockton at half past eleven.
When this train reached the scene of the early morning excitement Ralph had to ease her along very slowly. The first repairs on the trestle were by no means permanent.
By daylight he could see, from the cab window, the entire scene of what had come so near being an awful catastrophe. On the south side of the right of way at this point was a towering crag. It was covered by scrub growth that masked the rocks, but the young engineer had once climbed that rock and knew that there was more than one path to the top.
As he looked upward he saw, caught upon a bush some yards above the level of the railroad, a garment fluttering in the breeze. He was positive, after a moment, that it was a vest—a discarded vest.
“Some hobo has left part of his outfit,” thought Ralph.
But then, as he raised his eyes higher, he saw another strange signal fluttering from a bush. It was a shirt. He could see the sleeves of it, and it fluttered grotesquely.
“Why?” the young engineer muttered.
He looked farther up the steep wall and saw a cap! Something about that cap astonished him even more than the other fluttering articles of wearing apparel. Distant as it was, Ralph thought he recognized that cap. It was of a mustard color, an odd color, and he remembered that the night he had had his last adventure with Zeph Dallas in Rockton Zeph had worn just that sort of cap!
Then he got the signal to go ahead, and could do nothing at the moment to investigate these matters. He pulled up the hill toward Shadow Valley Station.