Munroe Kirk
Cab and Caboose: The Story of a Railroad Boy
CHAPTER XXI.
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 wide open 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 and knees 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 there exposed 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.
CHAPTER XXII.
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 the polished 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 the car 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 the man 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, threw over 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 decidedly weakened 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!”
CHAPTER XXIII.
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 large station 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 had anticipated, 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.
CHAPTER XXIV.
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.
