IN THE TUNNEL
Ralph pressed close to the window pane of Mr. Little's library room but
he did not succeed in seeing much. The last match struck revealed to his
sight the two men who had acted so suspiciously the day he had seen them
hanging around the Overland Express train with Glen Palmer's
grandfather.
If all that he had surmised and discovered was true, it was quite
natural that he should come upon them again. Ralph was less startled
than surprised. He wondered what their motive could be in visiting the
paymaster's house.
"They are not up to burglary," the idea ran through his mind. "It must
be they are searching among the paymaster's papers to find out what they
can about his system and methods. Yes, that is it."
Ralph saw the man who had struck the matches draw from his pocket a
tallow candle, evidently intending to light it. His companion had pulled
up the sliding top of a desk and was reaching out toward some pigeon
holes to inspect their contents. Just then an unexpected climax came.
The foot of the young railroader slipped on a patch of frozen grass as
he pressed too close to the window. Ralph fell up against this with a
slight clatter. The man with the match turned very sharply and suddenly.
He glared hard at the source of the commotion. He must have caught sight
of Ralph's face before the latter had time to draw back, for he uttered
a startled ejaculation.
With a bang the desk top fell back in place, the match went out, and the
man with the candle fired it wildly at the form at the window with
sufficient force to penetrate the pane with a slight crash.
Ralph drew back, some fine splinters of glass striking his face. It was
totally dark now in the room into which he had peered. He could catch
the heavy tramping of feet in flight and a door slammed somewhere in the
house.
"Hey, there--what are you up to," challenged Ralph, sharply, as he stood
in a puzzled way debating what was best to do. He turned about, to face
a powerfully-built man, cane in hand, storming down upon him from the
front of the house.
"It is you, Mr. Little?" inquired Ralph quickly.
"Yes, it's me. Who are you? Oh, young Fairbanks," spoke the paymaster,
peering closely at Ralph.
"Yes, sir."
"I thought I heard a pane of glass smash--"
"You did. Hurry to the rear, Mr. Little."
"What for?"
"I'll cover the front."
"Why--"
"Two men are in your house. They were just at your desk when I
discovered them."
"Two men in the house!"
"I can't explain now, but it is very important that we prevent their
escape."
"Burglars! We were all over to supper at wife's folks--"
"Spies, fits the case better, sir--some rival road spite work, maybe.
It's serious, as I shall explain to you later."
"There they are. Hey, stop!"
Two figures had cut across the lawn from the rear of the house.
"They are the same men," declared Ralph, and both he and the paymaster
put after them.
The fugitives paid no attention to the repeated demands of the paymaster
to halt. They crossed a vacant field and suddenly went clear out of
sight.
"They've dropped over the wall guarding the north tracks," said Ralph.
"And we'll follow!" declared Mr. Little dauntlessly.
At this point the north branch of the road ran down a steep grade and
was walled in for over a thousand feet. Ralph dropped onto the cindered
roadbed. Mr. Little more clumsily followed him.
"Where now?" he puffed, as he scrambled to his feet.
"There they go," said Ralph, pointing towards two forms quite plainly
revealed in the night light.
"I see them," spoke the paymaster. "They're caged in."
"Unless they take to the tunnel."
"Then we'll take to it, too," insisted Mr. Little. "I'm bound to get
those men."
Ralph admired the pluck and persistency of his companion. The paymaster
was a big man and a brave one. He had the reputation of generally
putting through any job he started on. The young railroader did not
entirely share the hopes of his companion, as he saw the two fugitives
reach the mouth of the tunnel, and its gloom and darkness swallowed them
up like a cloud.
"The mischief!" roared the paymaster, going headlong, his cane hurtling
through space as he stumbled over a tie brace. "I've sprained my ankle,
I guess, Fairbanks. Don't stop for me. Run those fellows down. There's
bound to be a guard at the other end of the tunnel. Call in his help."
Ralph grabbed up the cane where it had fallen and put sturdily after the
fugitives. The tunnel slanted quite steeply at its start. It was about
an eighth of a mile in length, and single tracked only. Ralph was not
entirely familiar with running details on this branch of the Great
Northern, but he felt pretty sure that there were no regular trains for
several hours after six o'clock.
The men he was pursuing had quite some start of him, and unless he could
overtake them before they reached the other end of the tunnel they were
as good as lost for the time being. Ralph's thought was that when he had
passed the dip of the tunnel, he would be able to make out the forms of
the fugitives against the glare of the numerous lights in the
switchyards beyond the other entrance.
The young railroader retained possession of the paymaster's cane as a
weapon that might come in handy for attack or defense, as the occasion
might arise.
It was as black as night in the tunnel, once he got beyond the entrance,
and he had to make a blind run of it. The roadbed was none too smooth,
and he had to be careful how he picked his steps. The air was close and
smoky, and he paused as he went down the sharp grade with no indication
whatever through sight or sound of the proximity of the men he was
after.
It had occurred to him more than once that the men in advance, if they
should happen to glance back, would be able to catch the outlines of his
figure against the tunnel outlet. As they did not wish at all to be
overhauled, however, Ralph believed they would plan less to attack him
than to strain every effort to get into hiding as speedily as possible.
Headed forward at quite a brisk pace, the young railroader came suddenly
up against an obstruction. It was human, he felt that. In fact, as he
ran into a yielding object he knew the same to be a barrier composed of
joined hands of the two fugitives. They had noted or guessed his sharp
pursuit of them, had joined each a hand, and spreading out the others
practically barricaded the narrow tunnel roadbed so he could in no
manner get past them.
"Got him!" spoke a harsh voice in the darkness. Ralph receded and struck
out with the cane. He felt that it landed with tremendous force on some
one, for a sharp cry ensued. The next instant one of the fugitives
pinioned one wrist and the other his remaining wrist.
Ralph swayed and swung to and fro, struggling actively to break away
from his captors.
"What now?" rang out at his ear.
"Run him forward."
"He won't run."
"Then give him his quietus."
Ralph felt that a cowardly blow in the dark was pending. He had retained
hold of the cane. He tried to use this as a weapon, but the clasp on
either wrist was like that of steel. He could only sway the walking
stick aimlessly.
A hard fist blow grazed one ear, bringing the blood. Ralph gave an old
training ground twist to his supple body, at the same time deftly
throwing out one foot. He had succeeded in tripping up his captor on the
left, but though the fellow fell he preserved a tenacious grip on the
wrist of the plucky young railroader.
"Keep your clutch!" panted the other man. "I'll have him fixed in a
jiffy. Thunder! what's coming?"
"A train!"
"Break loose--we're lost!"
Ralph was released suddenly. The man on the right, however, had
delivered the blow he had started to deal. It took Ralph across the
temple and for a moment dazed and stunned him. He fell directly between
the rails.
The two men had darted ahead. He heard one of them call out to hug the
wall closely. Then a sharp grinding roar assailed Ralph's ears and he
tried to trace out its cause.
"Something is coming," he murmured. His skilled hearing soon determined
that it was no locomotive or train, but he was certain that some rail
vehicle of light construction was bearing down upon him.
Ralph was so dazed that he could barely collect wit and strength in an
endeavor to crawl out of the roadbed. With a swishing grind the
approaching car, or whatever it was, tore down the sharp incline.
His sheer helplessness of the instant appalled and amazed Ralph. It
seemed minutes instead of seconds before he rolled, crept, crawled over
the outside rail. As he did so, with a whang stinging his nerves like
needles of fire, one end of the descending object met his suspended foot
full force, bending it up under him like a hinge.
Ralph was driven, lifted against the tunnel wall with harsh force. His
head struck the wet slimy masonry, causing his brain to whirl anew.
Something swept by him on seeming wings of fleetness. There was a rush
of wind that almost took his breath away. Then there sounded out upon
the clammy blackness of the tunnel an appalling, unearthly scream.