THE STOLEN PAY CAR
Long before the whistles blew for seven o'clock at Stanley Junction the
news had spread like wildfire--train No. 83, carrying the substitute pay
car, containing two hundred thousand dollars in cash and a king's ransom
in bullion for the banks, had disappeared.
Somewhere between Fairview and Maddox, the time, and means unknown, the
car containing all this treasure had been boldly stolen, disconnected
from the train, had vanished.
One minute after receiving the startling cypher message, Ralph had
telephoned to the superintendent of the road at his home in Stanley
Junction. Within an hour that official and two assistants in hastily
donned garb and with perturbed faces were at headquarters trying to
solve a situation enshrouded in the densest mystery.
The wires were kept hot with messages to and from Fairview. The
conductor of No. 83 could simply repeat his amazing story. When the
train arrived at Maddox they found the precious treasure car missing.
Their crippled engine could not be brought into service. The
snow-clogged rails offered no chance for a hand car.
Had the car broken loose? was the question put. No, was the answer. The
bumper of the last milk car showed no evidences of unusual strain or
break. The coupling pin had simply been removed, how far back the line
it was impossible to surmise, certainly between Fairview and Maddox.
And then, linking in the discovery of the brakeman lying drugged or hurt
at the side of the track by the station agent at Tipton, the
irresistible conclusion was arrived at by the anxious railroad officials
that their careful plans to delude the conspirators and safely get the
substitute pay car through had failed utterly.
There was only one thing to do. This was to make an immediate search for
the missing car. Belleville, ten miles distant from Fairview, was wired
an urgency call. The snowplow service with one caboose was ordered out.
The division superintendent at Belleville was instructed concerning the
situation, and at four a. m. the train started for Fairview, to plow its
way back over the route of No. 83 to seek a trace of the missing car.
It was before daylight when a report came in. Nowhere along the sharp
curves or deep gullies of the route was a single trace of the car
discovered. It had disappeared as absolutely and completely as if the
earth had opened and swallowed it up.
The falling snow had obliterated all recent marks on its surface. By the
merest chance, ten miles out of Maddox, the division superintendent had
noticed a small mound that was unfamiliar. Stopping the train, an
investigation disclosed the two guards who had been locked in the pay
car when it left Rockton.
It had been hard work to arouse the men, but finally one of them was
restored to consciousness sufficiently to relate a clear story.
Their instructions had been simple--to use their rifles if any stranger
attempted to enter the car on its journey. Between stations the brakeman
on duty on the rear platform of the car was allowed to enter to get
warm. He had always, however, given an agreed-on signal at the door of
the car.
It was just after leaving Tipton that his familiar knock had called one
of them to the door to let him in. Taken completely off their guard, as
four men one after the other jumped in among them, the guards had no
opportunity to seize their firearms. They had been knocked down on the
floor of the car, cloths drugged with some subtle acid had been held
over their faces. They knew no more until they had been discovered by
the division superintendent.
"It's easy to guess it out," whispered Glidden to Ralph while the
officials in the room were piecing all these bits of information
together.
"Yes," responded Ralph, "the conspirators in some way received advance
information of every step we intended to make."
"They must have got aboard secretly beyond Tipton, or have been hidden
in the last milk car," suggested Glidden. "They jumped on and doped the
brakeman, disposed of him, later of the two guards, and were in
possession. The division superintendent reports that the wires were
found cut just out of Tipton. The crowd had planned out everything to a
second, with conspirators posted all along the line."
"But the missing car," said Ralph thoughtfully; "what has become of it?"
Neither he nor Glidden could figure out a solution of this difficult
problem. Even the experienced official after a long confab gave it up.
The only thing they could do was to order a hasty search for Bob Adair,
the road detective, to rush to the spot with all the force he needed.
The superintendent spoke pleasantly to Ralph and Glidden as the day
force relieved them. He even forgot his anxieties long enough to commend
them for the hard work they had done and the close tab they had kept on
all the occurrences of the night.
"It's a bad mess for the Great Northern," he said with a worried face,
"and it proves that our enemies are not as dull as we thought they
were."
Ralph went home tired out. He found it hard, however, to get to sleep.
The strain and excitement of the preceding twelve hours told severely on
his nerves. All through the morning his vivid dreams were of snow
blockades, cut wires, and stolen treasure cars.
On account of their special service on behalf of the pay car affair,
Glidden and himself were relieved from duty for twenty-four hours. The
old dispatcher dropped in at the Fairbanks home shortly after noon.
"Have they found any trace of the missing pay car?" at once inquired
Ralph.
"Stolen, you mean," corrected Glidden. "No. Theories? Lots of them. She
was simply cut off from the train. She couldn't have derailed, for
there's no trace of that unless she went up in the air. Of course,
whoever manipulated her sent her off on a siding among the mountains on
a down grade."
"And that is the last known of it. Well, what later?"
"Adair will be over to find out soon, or else he won't," retorted
Glidden crisply. "You know that web of old abandoned sidings and spurs
branching out the other side of Maddox?"
"Near Eagle Pass, you mean?"
"Yes. The superintendent thinks the car will be found somewhere on the
branches, looted, of course, for the robbers have had hours to handle
the booty."
Nothing but theory, however, resulted from official investigations
during the ensuing two days. The following Monday morning the assistant
superintendent met Ralph on his way to work. The missing car problem was
still unsolved, he told the young railroader.
Adair and his men had explored every spur and siding the entire length
of Eagle Pass. Not a trace of the stolen car had been discovered, and
the road officer was working on a theory that it might have been run off
on connecting private switches onto the Midland Central, and the
collusion of important influences exercised.
When Ralph got home that evening he found an old time friend awaiting
him. It was Zeph Dallas, just arrived.
"Why, hello!" hailed Ralph heartily, walking into the sitting room where
he had spied Zeph. "I'm glad to see you, Zeph--why, what's the matter?"
Zeph was indeed an object to excite wonderment and attention. His face
was about the forlornest that Ralph had ever seen. His eyes were like
two holes burned in his head, his clothes were wrinkled as if he had
slept in them for a week.
In a limp, hopeless fashion the "boy detective," all his plumes of
ambition sadly trailing in the dust of humiliation and defeat, allowed
his hand to rest lifelessly in that of Ralph. His throat choked up with
a sob, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Ralph," he almost whispered, "they've fooled me, I'm beaten out."
"You mean the men who stole the pay car?"
"Yes; oh, they put it over on me good. They pulled the wool over my
eyes. I thought I had them, and they let me think so. I've got to find
them, I've got to make good, or I'll never hold up my head in Stanley
Junction again."
"You did the best you could, I am sure, Zeph," encouraged Ralph
soothingly.
"The best won't do!" almost shouted out Zeph. "There's got to be better.
Oh, Ralph, it will break my heart if I fail. I've got to find that
stolen pay car, and you've got to help me."