Munroe Kirk
Cab and Caboose: The Story of a Railroad Boy
CHAPTER XXIX.
AN ARRIVAL OF FRIENDS AND ENEMIES
Thus it happened that although Rod had eaten his breakfast that morning in a prison cell he ate his dinner in the pleasant dining-room of the sheriff’s house with that gentleman, the dear old lady, and Juniper’s owner, for company. It was a very happy meal, in spite of the fact that the real train robber was still at large, and as its conversation was mostly devoted to the recent occurrences in which Rod had been so prominent an actor, his cheeks were kept in a steady glow by the praises bestowed upon him.
Directly after dinner Juniper’s owner took his departure and soon afterwards a special train arrived from Millbank. It consisted of a locomotive and a single passenger coach in which were a number of New York and Western railroad men. They came in answer to the sheriff’s request for witnesses who might identify the train robber. Among these new arrivals were Snyder Appleby who had been sent from New York by Superintendent Hill to investigate the affair, Conductor Tobin who, after taking the Express Special to the end of his run, had been ordered back to Millbank for this purpose, his other brakeman who had hurried ahead at the first opportunity from the station at which he had been left, the fireman of the locomotive with which Rod had chased the robber, and several others.
As this party was ushered into the sheriff’s private office its members started with amazement at the sight of Rod Blake sitting there as calmly, as though perfectly at home and waiting to receive them.
Upon their entrance he sprang to his feet filled with a surprise equal to their own, for the sheriff had not told him of their coming.
“Well, sir! What are you doing here?” demanded Snyder Appleby, who was the first to recover from his surprise, and who was filled with a sense of his own importance in this affair.
“I am visiting my friend, the sheriff,” answered Rod, at once resenting the other’s tone and air.
“Oh, you are! And may I ask by what right you, a mere brakeman in our employ, took it upon yourself to desert your post of duty, run off with one of our engines, endanger the traffic of the line and then unaccountably disappear as you did last night or rather early this morning?”
“You may ask as much as you please,” answered Rod, “but I shall refuse to answer any of your questions until I know by what authority you ask them.” The young brakeman spoke quietly, but the nature of his feelings was betrayed by the hot flush that sprang to his cheeks.
“You’ll find out before I’m through with you,” cried Snyder savagely. “Mr. Sheriff I order you to place this fellow under arrest.”
“Upon what charge?” asked the sheriff. “Is he the train robber?”
“Of course not,” was the reply, “but he is a thief all the same. He is one of our brakemen and ran off with a locomotive.”
“What did he do with it?” asked the sheriff, with an air of interest.
“Left it standing on the track.”
“Oh, I didn’t know but what he carried it off with him. Did he leave it alone and unguarded?”
Snyder was compelled to admit that the engine had been left in charge of its regular firemen; but still claimed that the young brakeman had committed a crime for which he ought to be arrested.
“I suppose you want me to arrest that fireman too?” suggested the sheriff.
“Oh, no. It was his duty to accompany the engine.”
“But why didn’t he refuse to allow it to move?”
“He was forced to submit by threats of personal injury made by this brakeman fellow. Isn’t that so?” asked Snyder, and the fireman nodded an assent.
The sheriff smiled as he glanced first at the burly form of the fireman and then at Rod’s comparatively slight figure. “Can any of these men identify this alleged locomotive thief?” he asked.
“Certainly they can. Tobin, tell the sheriff what you know of him.”
Blazing with indignation at the injustice and meanness of Snyder’s absurd charge against his favorite brakeman, Conductor Tobin answered promptly: “I know him to be one of the best brakemen on the road, although he is the youngest. He is one of the pluckiest too and as honest as he is plucky. I’ll own he might have made a mistake in going off with that engine; but all the same it was a brave thing to do and I am certain he thought he was on the right track.”
“Do you know him too?” asked the sheriff of the other brakeman.
“Yes, sir. I am proud to say I do and in regard to what I think of him Conductor Tobin’s words exactly express my sentiments.”
“Do you also know him?” was asked of the fireman.
“Yes, I know him to be the young rascal who ran me twice into such a storm of bullets from the train robber’s pistols that it’s a living wonder I’m not full of holes at this blessed minute.”
“What else did he do?”
“What else? Why, he jumped from the engine while she was running a good twenty mile an hour, and started off like the blamed young lunatic he is to chase after the train robber afoot. Wanted me to go with him too, but I gave him to understand I wasn’t such a fool as to go hunting any more interviews with them pistols. No, sir; I stuck where I belonged and if he’d done the same he wouldn’t be in the fix he’s in now.”
“And yet,” said the sheriff, quietly, “this ‘blamed young lunatic,’ as you call him, succeeded in overtaking that train robber after all. He also managed to relieve him of his pistols you seem to have dreaded so greatly, recover the valuable property that had been stolen from the express car, and also a fine horse that the robber had just appropriated to his own use. On the whole gentleman, I don’t think I’d better arrest him, do you?”
CHAPTER XXX.
WHERE ARE THE DIAMONDS?
“Yes, sir. I think he ought to be arrested,” said Snyder Appleby in reply to the sheriff’s question, “and if you refuse to perform that duty I shall take it upon myself to arrest him in the name of the New York and Western Railway Company of which I am the representative here. I shall also take him back with me to the city where he will be dealt with according to his desserts by the proper authorities.” Then turning to the members of his own party the self-important young secretary added: “In the meantime I order you two men to guard this fellow and see that he does not escape, as you value your positions on the road.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself, Snyder, nor them either,” said Rod indignantly, “for I sha’n’t require watching. I am perfectly willing to go to New York with you, and submit my case to the proper authorities. In fact I propose to do that at any rate. At the same time I want you to understand that I don’t do this in obedience to any orders from you, nor will I be arrested by you.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” replied Snyder, carelessly. “So long as we get you there I don’t care how it is done. Now, Mr. Sheriff,” he continued, “we have already wasted too much time and if you will take us to see the bold train robber whom you say this boy captured single-handed and alone, we will finish our business here and be off.”
“I didn’t say that he captured the train robber,” replied the sheriff. “I stated that he overtook him, relieved him of his pistols, and recovered the stolen property; but I am quite certain that I said nothing regarding the capture of the robber.”
“Where is he now?” asked Snyder.
“I don’t know. This lad left him lying senseless in the road, where he had been flung by a stolen horse, and went for assistance. Being mistaken for the person who had appropriated the horse he was brought here. In the meantime the train robber recovered his senses and made good his escape. That is, I suppose he did.”
“Then why did you telegraph that you had the train robber in custody, and bring us here to identify him?” demanded Snyder sharply.
“I didn’t,” answered the sheriff, with a provoking smile, for he was finding great pleasure in quizzing this pompously arbitrary young man. “I merely sent for a few persons who could identify the train robber to come and prove that this lad was not he. This you have kindly done to my entire satisfaction.”
“What!” exclaimed Snyder. “Did you suspect Rod, I mean this brakeman, of being the train robber?”
“I must confess that I did entertain such a suspicion, and for so doing I humbly beg Mr. Blake’s pardon,” replied the sheriff.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he should prove to be connected with it, after all, for I believe him to be fully capable of such things,” sneered Snyder.
At this cruel remark there arose such a general murmur of indignation, and the expression of Rod’s face became so ominous that the speaker hastened to create a diversion of interest by asking the sheriff what had been done with the valuables recovered from the robber.
“They are in my safe.”
“You will please hand them over to me.”
“I shall do nothing of the kind,” retorted the sheriff, as he drew the stout leather bag from its place of security. “I shall hand this bag, with all its contents, to the brave lad who recovered it, and entrust him with its safe delivery to those authorized to receive it.”
So saying, the sheriff handed the bag to Rod.
Snyder turned pale with rage, and snatching an unsealed letter from his pocket, he flung it on the table, exclaiming angrily: “There is my authority for conducting this business and for receiving such of the stolen property as may be recovered. If you fail to honor it I will have you indicted for conspiracy.”
“Indeed!” said the sheriff, contemptuously. “That would certainly be a most interesting proceeding—for you.” Then to Rod, to whom he had already handed the bag, he said: “If you decide to deliver this property to that young man, Mr. Blake, I would advise you to examine carefully the contents of the bag in presence of these witnesses and demand an itemized receipt for them.”
“Thank you, I will,” replied Rod, emptying the contents of the bag on the table as he spoke.
There was a subdued exclamation from the railroad men at the sight of the wealth thus displayed in packages of bills and rolls of coin. Rodman requested the sheriff to call off the amount contained in each of these while he made out the list. At the same time Snyder drew from his pocket a similar list of the property reported to be missing from the express messenger’s safe.
When Rod’s list was completed, Snyder, who had carefully checked off its items on his own, said: “That’s all right so far as it goes, but where are the diamonds?”
“What diamonds?” asked Rod and the sheriff together.
“The set of diamond jewelry valued at seven thousand five hundred dollars, in a morocco case, that has been missing ever since the robbery of the express car,” was the answer.
“I know nothing of it,” said Rod.
“This is the first I have heard of any diamonds,” remarked the sheriff.
THE SHERIFF HANDS ROD THE LEATHER BAG.– (PAGE 201.)
“Has the bag been out of your possession since the arrest of this—person?” asked Snyder, hesitating for a word that should express his feelings toward the lad who had once beaten him in a race, but who was now so completely in his power.
“No, sir, it has not,” promptly replied the sheriff.
“You have opened it before this, of course?”
“Yes, I glanced at its contents when it was first placed in my keeping, but made no examination of them, as I should have done had not other important matters claimed my attention.”
“How long was the bag in your possession?” asked Snyder, turning to Rod.
“About half an hour, but–”
“Was any one with you during that half hour?” interrupted the questioner.
“No; but as I was going to say–”
“That is sufficient. I don’t care to hear what you were going to say. Others may listen to that if they choose when the proper time comes. What I have to say regarding this business is, that in view of this new development I am more than ever desirous of delivering you into the hands of the proper authorities in New York. I would also suggest that your short and brilliant career as a railroader has come to a disgraceful end more quickly than even I suspected it would.”
“Do you mean to say that you think I stole those diamonds?” demanded Rod, hotly.
“Oh, no,” answered Snyder. “I don’t say anything about it. The circumstances of the case speak so plainly for themselves that my testimony would be superfluous. Now, Mr. Sheriff, as our business here seems to be concluded, I think we will bid you good-by and be moving along.”
“You needn’t bid me good-by yet,” responded the sheriff, “for I have decided to go with you.”
“I doubt if I shall be able to find room for you in my special car,” said Snyder, who for several reasons was not desirous of the sheriff’s company.
“Very well. Then you will be obliged to dispense with Mr. Blake’s company also, for in view of the recent developments in this case I feel that I ought not to lose sight of him just yet.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
ONE HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR!
The sheriff’s concluding argument at once prevailed. Snyder was so eager to witness his rival’s humiliation and to hear the Superintendent pronounce his sentence of dismissal from the company’s employ, that he would have sacrificed much of his own dignity rather than forego that triumph. As matters now stood he could not see how Rod, even though he should not be convicted of stealing the missing diamonds, could clear himself from the suspicion of having done so.
Neither could poor Rod see how it was to be accomplished. For mile after mile of that long ride back toward New York he sat in silence, puzzling over the situation. In spite of the attempts of the sheriff and Conductor Tobin to cheer him up, he grew more and more despondent at the prospect of having to go through life as one who is suspected. It was even worse than being locked into a prison cell, for he had known that could not last long, while this new trouble seemed interminable.
The lad’s sorrowful reflections were interrupted by an ejaculation from the sheriff who sat beside him. On that gentleman’s knee lay an open watch, at which he had been staring intently and in silence for some time. He had also done some figuring on a pad of paper. Finally he uttered a prolonged “Wh-e-w!”
Both Rod and Conductor Tobin looked at him inquiringly.
“Do you know,” he said, “that we have just covered a mile in forty-two seconds, and that we are travelling at the rate of eighty-five miles an hour?”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” replied Conductor Tobin, quietly; “I heard Mr. Appleby tell the engineman at the last stop that if better time wasn’t made pretty soon he’d go into the cab himself and show ’em how to do it. The idea of his talking that way to an old driver like Newman. Why, I don’t believe he knows the difference between a throttle and an injector. A pretty figure he’d cut in a cab! Newman didn’t answer him a word, only gave him a queer kind of a look. Now he’s hitting her up for all she’s worth, though, and, judging from appearances, Mr. Appleby wishes he’d held his tongue.”
Snyder certainly was very pale, and was clutching the arms of his seat as though to keep himself from being flung to the floor during the frightful lurchings of the car as it spun around curves.
“But isn’t it middling dangerous to run so fast?” asked the sheriff, as the terrific speed seemed to increase.
“Not so very,” answered the Conductor. “I don’t consider that there is any more danger at a high rate of speed than there is at forty or fifty miles an hour! If we were to strike a man, a cow, a wagon, or even a pile of ties while going at this rate we’d fling the obstacle to one side like a straw and pay no more attention to it. If we were only doing fifteen or twenty miles though, instead of between eighty and ninety, any one of these things would be apt to throw us off the track. I tell you, gentleman, old man Newman is making things hum though! You see he has got number 385, one of the new compound engines. He claims that she can do one hundred miles an hour just as well as not, and that he is the man to get it out of her. He says he can stand it if she can. He made her do a mile in 39¼ seconds on her trial trip, and claims that about a month ago when he was hauling the grease wagon 1 she did 4-1/10 miles in 2½ minutes, which is at the rate of 98.4 miles an hour. 2 His fireman backs him up, and says he held the stop-watch between stations. The paymaster was so nearly scared to death that time that Newman was warned never to try for his hundred-mile record again without special orders. Now I suppose he considers that he has received them and is making the most of his chance.”
“It’s awful!” gasped Snyder, who had drawn near enough to the group to overhear the last of Conductor Tobin’s remarks. “The man must be crazy. Isn’t there some way of making him slow down?”
“Not if he is crazy, as you suggest, sir,” replied Conductor Tobin, with a sly twinkle in his eyes. “It would only make matters worse to interfere with him now, and all we can do is to hope for the best.”
“It’s glorious!” shouted Rod, forgetting all his troubles in the exhilaration of this wild ride. “It’s glorious! And I only hope he’ll make it. Do you really think a hundred miles an hour is within the possibilities, Mr. Tobin?”
“Certainly I do,” answered the Conductor. “It not only can be done, but will be, very soon. I haven’t any doubt but what by the time the Columbian Exposition opens we shall have regular passenger trains running at that rate over some stretches of our best roads, such as the Pennsylvania, the Reading, the New York Central and this one. Moreover, when electricity comes into general use as a motive power I shall expect to travel at a greater speed even than that. Why, they are building an electric road now on an air line between Chicago and St. Louis, on which they expect to make a hundred miles an hour as a regular thing.”
“I hope I shall have a chance to travel on it,” said Rod.
“I have heard of another road,” continued Conductor Tobin, “now being built somewhere in Europe, Austria I believe, over which they propose to run trains at the rate of one hundred and twenty-five miles an hour.”
Here the conversation was interrupted by Snyder Appleby, who, in a frenzy of terror that he could no longer control, shouted “Stop him! Stop him! I order you to stop him at once!”
“All right, sir, I’ll try,” answered Conductor Tobin, with a scornful smile on his face. Just as he lifted his hand to the bell-cord there came a shriek from the locomotive whistle. It was instantly followed by such a powerful application of brakes that the car in which our friends were seated quivered in every joint and seemed as though about to be wrenched in pieces.
As the special finally came to a halt, and its occupants rushed out to discover the cause of its violent stoppage, they found the hissing monster, that had drawn them with such fearful velocity, standing trembling and panting within a few feet of one of the most complete and terrible wrecks any of them had ever seen.
CHAPTER XXXII.
SNATCHING VICTORY FROM DEFEAT
The wreck by which the terrific speed of the special had been so suddenly checked was one of those that may happen at any time even on the best and most carefully-managed of railroads. The through freight, of which ex-Brakeman Joe was now conductor, had made its run safely and without incident to a point within twenty miles of New York. It was jogging along at its usual rate of speed when suddenly and without the slightest warning an axle under a “foreign” car, near the rear of the train, snapped in two. In an instant the car leaped from the rails and across the west-bound tracks, dragging the rear end of the freight, including the caboose, after it. Before the dazed train-hands could realize what was happening, the heavy locomotive of a west-bound freight that was passing the east-bound train at that moment crashed into the wreck. It struck a tank-car filled with oil. Like a flash of lightning a vast column of fire shot high in the air and billows of flame were roaring in every direction. These leaped from one to another of the derailed cars, until a dozen belonging to both trains, as well as the west-bound locomotive, were enveloped in their cruel embrace.
Conductor Joe escaped somehow, but he was bruised, shaken, and stunned by the suddenness and awfulness of the catastrophe. In spite of his bewilderment, however, his years of training as a brakeman were not forgotten. Casting but a single glance at the blazing wreck, he turned and ran back along the east-bound track. He was no coward running away from duty and responsibility, though almost any one who saw him just then might have deemed him one. No, indeed! He was doing what none but a faithful and experienced railroad man would have thought of doing under the circumstances; doing his best to avert further calamity by warning approaching trains from the west of the danger before them. He ran half a mile and then placed the torpedoes, which, with a brakeman’s instinct, he still carried in his pocket.
Bang-bang! Bang! Engineman Newman, driving locomotive number 385 at nearer one hundred miles an hour than it had ever gone before, heard the sharp reports above the rattling roar of his train, and realized their dread significance. It was a close call, and only cool-headed promptness could have checked the tremendous speed of that on-rushing train in the few seconds allowed for the purpose. As it was, 385’s paint was blistering in the intense heat from the oil flames as it came to a halt and then slowly backed to a place of safety.
Conductor Joe had already returned to the scene of the wreck and was sending out other men with torpedoes and flags in both directions. Then he joined the brave fellows who were fighting for the lives of those still imprisoned in the wrecked caboose. Among these were Rod Blake, Conductor Tobin, and the sheriff. Snyder Appleby had turned sick at the heartrending sights and sounds to be seen and heard on all sides, and had gone back to his car to escape them. He did not believe a soul could be saved, and he had not the nerve to listen to the pitiful cries of those whom he considered doomed to a certain destruction.
In thus accepting defeat without a struggle, Snyder exhibited the worst form of cowardice, and if the world were made up of such as he, there would be no victories to record. But it is not. It not only contains those who will fight against overwhelming odds, but others who never know that they are beaten, and where indomitable wills often snatch victory from what appears to be defeat. General Grant was one of these, and Rod Blake was made of the same stuff.
Again and again he and those with him plunged into the stifling smoke to battle with the fierce flames in their stronghold. They smothered them with clods of earth and buckets of sand. They cut away the blazing woodwork with keen-edged wrecking axes torn from their racks in the uninjured caboose and in Snyder Appleby’s special car. One by one they released and dragged out the victims, of whom the fire had been so certain, until none was left, and a splendid victory had been snatched from what had promised to be a certain defeat.
IN THE RAILROAD WRECK.—(PAGE 215.)
There was a farm-house not far away, to which the victims of the disaster were tenderly borne. Here, too, came their rescuers, scorched, blackened, and exhausted; but forgetful of their own plight in their desire to further relieve the sufferings of those for whom they had done such brave battle. In one of the wounded men Rod Blake was especially interested, for the young brakeman had fought on with a stubborn determination to save him after the others had declared it to be impossible. The man had been a passenger in the caboose of the through freight, and was so crushed and held by the shattered timbers of the car that, though the rescuing party reached his side, they were unable to drag him out. A burst of flame drove them back and forced them to rush into the open air to save their own lives. Above the roar of the fire they could distinguish his piteous cries, and this was more than Rod could stand. With a wet cloth over his mouth and axe in hand he dashed back into the furnace. He was gone before the others knew what he was about to attempt, and now they listened with bated breath to the sound of rapid blows coming from behind the impenetrable veil of swirling smoke. As it eddied upward and was lifted for an instant they caught sight of him, and rushing to the spot, they dragged him out, with his arms tightly clasped about the helpless form he had succeeded in releasing from its fiery prison.
At that moment the young brakeman presented a sorry picture, blackened beyond recognition by his dearest friends, scorched, and with clothing hanging in charred shreds. By some miracle he was so far uninjured that a few dashes of cold water gave him strength to walk, supported by Conductor Tobin, to the farm-house, whither the others bore the unconscious man whom he had saved. The lad wished to help minister to the needs of the sufferer, but those who had cheered his act of successful bravery now insisted upon his taking absolute rest. So they made him lie down in a dimly-lighted room, where the sheriff sat beside him, and, big rough man that he was, soothed the exhausted lad with such tender gentleness, that after awhile the latter fell asleep. When this happened and the sheriff stole quietly out to where the others were assembled, he said emphatically:
“Gentlemen, I am prouder to know that young fellow than I would be of the friendship of a president.”
