THE WRECK
The battered locomotive continued its course for nearly half a mile,
with engineer and fireman crouching back on the coal of the tender.
There was a diversion of the circling driving rod as the pace slackened.
Then a violent hissing sound told of a leak somewhere in the machinery.
The great steel locomotive slowed down like a crippled giant.
"She's dead," said Roberts, choking a queer sound way down in his
throat. "Old 93!"
Ralph jumped to the ground and the fireman after him. The latter went
all around the stalled locomotive, shaking his head mournfully.
Ralph hastened ahead out of the glare of the headlight and peered down
the rails. For nearly two minutes he stood, shading his eyes with one
hand to bring the disappearing runaway within focus. The wild engine had
sped on its way untrammeled. He made out that she had slowed up. In the
distance he fancied he saw a brisk form spring from the cab. Ralph
figured it out that a switch had been set.
Then the runaway started again. He fancied that some one jumped from the
cab after the engine had got in motion. He could catch the sharp
clack-clack of the flying wheels ringing in the distance.
"She is running wild now," murmured the intent young railroader, and
then started with a shock.
A horrid clamor extended out. It must have been a mile away, but the air
was death-like, it was so still, and the merest sound seemed to vibrate
clearly.
Crash, crash, crash! It sounded as if a building had collapsed against
other tottering structures, tumbling them all into a mass of ruins.
"They've done it, whatever it is," said Ralph, and ran back speedily to
No. 93 and Roberts. The latter stood with his ear bent in the direction
of the runaway, and his usually jolly face was serious.
"What's up, Fairbanks?" he asked at once.
"A smashup, I judge," answered Ralph. "Can you dig out any lanterns?"
"Red?"
"Yes."
"Those two on the end of the tender are all right. There's another under
my seat, if it hasn't got smashed."
"Run back with the two and signal both tracks," ordered Ralph. "I'm
going ahead to see what has happened."
Ralph fished among the litter in the dismantled cab and found and lit
the lantern referred to by Roberts. Then he started ahead down the
tracks.
When he arrived at the switch he could trace that it had recently been
set for a siding. A little farther on footsteps in the snow showed where
some one had jumped from the runaway locomotive. Ralph paused at this
spot for only a moment. He went down the siding, which curved in and out
among a series of bluffs and gullies.
As he remembered it, the siding was not of great length, and ended at
the side of a granite pit. A last turn brought him in full view of this.
Ralph paused, a good deal wonderstruck.
Thirty feet down at the bottom of the gully lay a tangled wreckage of
wood and iron. There had apparently stood two cars where the runaway had
struck.
One of them held a derrick outfit, the other some heavy excavating
machine. The two cars had been forced headlong into the abyss. The
runaway engine piling down upon them had completed the work of ruin.
"I can't understand it," spoke Ralph, after a long spell of inspection
and thought. "What possible object could any one have in view in
smashing up that machinery?"
Then it occurred to him that his pursuit of the runaway might have
frightened its operator from his original purpose, and he had changed
his plans and abandoned the locomotive to its later course.
"A pretty bill for the Great Northern to settle, all the same,"
reflected Ralph, as he started back the way he had come.
At the switch he turned the target to open main, and made his way
forward till he reached No. 93. Roberts had set the danger signals
behind them, and he stood on the side of the embankment dismally
surveying the wreck of his pet locomotive. Ralph told him of the
situation ahead.
"I can't understand it," confessed the puzzled fireman.
"No more can I," said Ralph. "I wish we could have caught the man who
got away, though."
"What are we going to do?"
"Wait for instructions, of course. There is nothing due out or in for
some time to come, unless the Limited comes on. The out track is clear
for her, if she does. We must get word to Preston, some way."
"That isn't far away," suggested Roberts.
"Too far to cover in any reasonable time. I want to get at your tool
box, Roberts."
"All right."
Ralph secured a pair of pliers from the box in the cab, and went up the
embankment to where the telegraph wires ran. He selected a rough pole,
ascended it nimbly, and soon sat astride of the crosstrees.
The young railroader located the main service wire and began to pry it
apart where there had been a splice on the insulator. When he had it
separated he knew from the contact that it was in live use. Putting end
to end, he began to tap off what he wanted to say.
Ralph did not know what business he might be breaking in upon. He was
pretty sure that his message would be taken notice of somewhere along
the line. When he had completed and repeated his message he put the end
of one wire to his tongue. The vibrations were vague, but sensitive, and
he knew that he had stirred up the service, and operators on the line
towards headquarters were getting busy. He readjusted the wires and
descended to the ground.
"Doing some stunts, aren't you?" observed Roberts, with a commending
smile.
"I'm trying to get things in order," replied Ralph.
"It's you for it, every time," declared the friendly fireman. "Wish I
had brains."
"Some one will be sure to come to your relief before long," said Ralph.
"I have done all I can to open up the line, but I think I had better get
to Preston and in direct communication with headquarters."
"It's a long trip," suggested Roberts.
"That can't be helped. I will set my red lantern half a mile ahead on
the in track, for fear they don't quite understand the situation at
Preston."
"So long; you're a good one," nodded Roberts approvingly.
Ralph started on his way, set the lantern and accomplished a mile
without meeting with any further adventures. It was when he was about
two miles on his course when that whistling in the rear caused him to
halt and watch and wait.
In about five minutes the Limited whisked by, making up time. Ralph was
pretty thoughtful as he followed in her trail after she had passed on.
There were a good many angles to the exploit of the night to figure out.
His independent course in trying to stop the runaway might result in
some censure, though he fancied not.
The identity of the wrecker and his motive were what puzzled the young
railroader.
Ralph trudged on, thinking of all this, when, crossing a bridge, he
peered closely over to where a light was flashed and then a second. Some
one was igniting matches, apparently to light a pipe. He made out one,
then two vague forms a short distance down the shore of the creek.
It was a pretty early hour of the morning for any one to be tramping
around for fun. As Ralph thought of the man who had abandoned the
runaway locomotive, he determined on an investigation.
He descended to the near shore, lined it, and, sharply turning a
snow-laden brush heap, almost stumbled on two persons on its other side.
Ralph caught his breath and drew back just in time to escape discovery.
Peering cautiously, he made out a man seated on the ground. He was
groaning with pain and rubbing one limb tenderly. In front of him was a
boy.
"You see, I sprained my foot crossing a broken culvert," the man said.
"Yes, yes, I see," responded his companion, and the voice thrilled
Ralph, for he recognized the accents as those of a tried and true boy
friend of old--Zeph Dallas.