A STRANGE MESSAGE
Ralph had known the time when a good many of the boys and railroad men
at the Junction had considered Zeph Dallas a joke. He himself, however,
had tried to take Zeph as seriously as he could, and now his erratic
young friend rose still higher in his estimation.
In every live town there are generally one or more lads with the
detective fever. Zeph had wandered to Stanley Junction all on fire with
it. He had liked railroading, but he disdained its humdrum phases. Step
by step he had kept on the trail of "detecting something," until he had
unraveled a real mystery, had been of signal aid to the road detective
of the Great Northern, and had practically become a hired and loyal
helper to that experienced officer.
Ralph recalled the flying visit of Zeph to his mother at Stanley
Junction less than ten days previous. On that occasion Zeph had dropped
some mysterious and significant hints to Mrs. Fairbanks that he was
"working on a big case." He had even asked her to warn Ralph "to look
out for dispatching trouble."
There was no doubt in the mind of Ralph that Zeph was on the present
spot on duty pure and simple. Inside of a very few minutes he was aware
of the real situation of affairs. The crippled man in whose company he
had found Zeph was the man who had operated the runaway engine. As Ralph
peered closer he believed him to be one of the men with whom he had seen
the grandfather of Glen Palmer, and whom he had later encountered in the
railroad tunnel the night of the burglary of the paymaster's house.
Ralph listened attentively as the man seated on the ground began to
dolefully recite a lying story of how he had got hurt. How much of this
Zeph took in Ralph could not guess, for Zeph was playing a part. The man
pretended to be a member of a construction gang, with friends at a
little settlement a few miles distant. Acting to perfection a simple
country bumpkin, Zeph pulled the wool completely over the eyes of the
fellow.
"You've helped me this far," the man said, "and that makeshift crutch is
a big help, but I don't think I can navigate ahead alone."
"That's all right," declared Zeph ingenuously. "If it isn't too far,
I'll stay with you till you reach your friends, mister."
"Say, you're mighty obliging. I'll make it worth your while, too. I'll
pay you well."
"Oh, I don't care so much for that," said Zeph. "What I'd like to do is
to get settled down to some steady job."
"H'm," murmured the man reflectively, looking Zeph over in a speculative
way, "I don't know but I might steer you right up against a good thing."
"I'm willing, I tell you," declared Zeph, with a rural drawl that caused
Ralph to smile. "What doing, mister?"
"Just hanging around with a pleasant crowd and running some errands once
in a while. There's jumps in the business pretty lively, but no real
work."
"Why, I thought you was with a construction gang?"
"Um," observed the man in an embarrassed way--"yes, yes, just so.
Changing my job, that's it. On my way to join certain friends on a new
deal when that confounded locomotive went too fast for me, and--"
"Eh," projected Zeph. "You didn't say anything about a locomotive
before, mister."
"Say, you're pretty keen, you are," chuckled the man. "And I guess
you'll do. I was going to say till a locomotive loosened a log across a
culvert and I stumbled over it."
"Oh, that explains it," said Zeph with a frank relief that was most
fetching. "All right. You get me a job with your friends and you'll find
me a good worker."
"Don't doubt it. Let's make a start."
The man winced and groaned as Zeph helped him to his feet. The latter
had rigged up a forked stick so that it answered for a crutch on one
side. Zeph got on the other side of the man who, leaning on his shoulder
with his hand, was able to hobble along.
Ralph could foresee no particular purpose gained in keeping on the
trail. He felt certain that Zeph knew his business. He had probably been
watching or waiting for the conspirators right in this locality.
"It looks that way," murmured Ralph. "Anyhow, Zeph must be keeping Bob
Adair advised; is perhaps acting under his direct orders. Now he is
figuring for a chance to get right in with the gang. I'll follow a
little further, though, as it doesn't take me much out of my course to
Preston."
After a bit of progress the train wrecker and Zeph halted again. The
former was getting pretty tired. Zeph cleared away some snow from a heap
of old ties. The man removed his overcoat and made a pillow of it. He
rested for nearly half an hour. Then he resumed his coat and they
trudged along.
"Hello," exclaimed Ralph--"and good!"
He spoke the words with animation, as following up the pursuit he came
to the heap of ties where the train wrecker had rested. A memorandum
book lay on the snow where it had fallen from the pocket of the man's
overcoat. The night light was not sufficiently strong to enable Ralph to
inspect its contents. He observed, however, that it contained letters
and other documents.
"I fancy it will tell something interesting when I have time to look it
over," decided the young railroader.
The train wrecker and his escort finally arrived at a stretch of single
rails and here they paused. This was a cut off from the main track with
which Ralph was not familiar. He had an idea, however, that it connected
with some coal pit or quarry in the neighborhood of Preston. In less
than ten minutes after their arrival at this spot Ralph heard a rattle
on the rails. A handcar propelled by two men came into view. There was
quite a lengthy talk. They seemed discussing about Zeph, for Ralph saw
the latter retire to a little distance. Then he was beckoned back to the
three men. The crippled one was helped aboard of the handcar, Zeph
joined them, and the handcar sped away.
Ralph realized that it was futile to think of following and keeping
close track of them. Zeph was in their midst, accepted as a new recruit,
and the young railroader felt sanguine that he would accomplish some
practical results. Ralph proceeded on his way to Preston. It must have
been three o'clock in the morning when he found himself not on the north
branch of the road, but on a spur considerably to the east.
The light of a little station showed, and Ralph was glad to think of
rest and warmth. He reached a short platform and noticed the station
agent seated between the two signal windows on duty.
The man greeted the intruder with chary suspiciousness as Ralph entered
the waiting room, kicking the snow off his feet. When Ralph had
introduced himself, however, he stirred himself amiably, roused up the
fire in the old stove, and placed a chair for him.
"I've had a bad two hours," explained the man, "and was ready for train
wreckers, smash ups, or what not. A tramp routed me out of bed at home
telling me the old instrument here was raising mischief. Knew something
about telegraphing himself, he said, and scented trouble. I've been
lively up to a few minutes ago, getting all kinds of mixed instructions
about wild locomotives and trouble generally on the north cut off."
"I can tell you something about that," said Ralph, and explained a good
deal that interested his companion. "Can you get me Preston?"
"Sure--want to wire?"
"It will save me a long pull through the snow."
The operator led Ralph into his little office. As he did so Ralph
noticed that a piece of bagging was tacked over one of the upper sashes
and the floor covered with splintered glass. He had already observed
that the operator wore a bandage over one eye, but he did not just then
connect affairs in his urgency to get in communication with Preston.
This he soon did. He found the operator there aware of conditions. The
crude message Ralph had sent astride the telegraph pole formed the basis
for advising headquarters of what was going on. The Limited was safely
on her way, and a special from the Junction was now starting to take No.
93 in tow and investigate the wreck.
Ralph sent a message to Glidden, more explicitly explaining affairs. He
announced that he would return to the Junction on the first train he
could catch.
He was pretty well satisfied with his work of the night, for he had done
his level best and he felt sure there would be some further outcome when
Bob Adair's assistant reported.
"You seem to have had some trouble here," observed Ralph, with a glance
at the shattered window as he left the instrument.
"Yes, and this too," said the operator, indicating his bandaged eye.
"Nearly blinded."
"How is that?" inquired Ralph.
"The west freight, about an hour ago. She passes on her usual whiz.
About the middle of the train some one let fly a board--a box cover. It
slashed through the window, took me in the face and keeled me clear
over."
"That is strange," commented Ralph. "Are you sure it was thrown?"
"What could it blow off from?"
"That's so."
"There's the identical timber," continued the operator, touching with
his foot a piece of wood as they came out to the stove again. "I used
half of it to mend the fire."
Ralph picked up the piece of wood out of curiosity. As he did so he made
a discovery.
Its smooth side, though blurred, bore some faint black marks like
letters and words. It looked as if scratched with a blunt cinder on the
ends of burned matches.
In breaking the wood to mend the fire the operator had split the piece
transversely removing a part of a written line, but to his amazement
Ralph could make out these words:
"Send word to Ralph Fairbanks, Stanley Junction, that Glen Palmer
is--"
The remainder of this queer message was missing--ashes in the depot
stove. What had been the writing complete, and what did it mean?