THE "TEST" SPECIAL
"Mr. Fairbanks?"
"Yes, sir."
"This is the office of the general superintendent. He wishes to see you
immediately."
"I will report at once."
Ralph put down the telephone receiver, exchanged his office coat for
street wear, and within five minutes was admitted into the private
office of his superior official.
The superintendent looked bothered and his eyes were fixed on a great
array of documents on the desk before him. Ralph's brisk step and bright
face seemed to rouse him, and with a word of welcome he said:
"Sit down, Fairbanks." Ralph wondered why he had been sent for. He hoped
it was concerning the pay car mystery. There was not an hour in the day
that in some shape or other this perplexing puzzle did not come up
before him. More than one of his friends was vitally interested in the
outcome of that baffling case. For the sake of Bob Adair and Zeph
Dallas, he sincerely wished that the mists of secrecy and vagueness
might be cleared away.
"Unfinished business," spoke the superintendent after a pause, almost
irritably brushing aside a heap of papers directly before him. "Will it
ever be finished?" he added with a sigh. "Fairbanks," and the official
singled out a letter from among the heap of documents, "I am afraid I
must ask you to go on special duty."
"Very well, sir," said Ralph at once.
"Always ready, always willing," commended the superintendent with an
approving glance at the young railroader. "I wish there were more like
you, Fairbanks. You know the bother and stress we are in. This pay car
business has upset the whole official force, and we are still in the
dark."
"But Mr. Adair is on the case," submitted Ralph.
"It has been of no use. He has made an investigation along every inch of
the road where the car might have disappeared. He has given up,
discouraged. Here is his last report. He mentions you."
"Mentions me?" repeated Ralph.
"Yes. That is one reason why I have sent for you. He reports from
Fairview, and asks us to send you to him on Wednesday."
"That is day after tomorrow," said Ralph.
"Exactly. What his plans are I cannot tell you, but he refers to some
efficient work you have done in his line in the past, and requests us to
detail you specially in his service. What do you say, Fairbanks?"
"I am at your orders, sir."
"Very good. That settles one part of the business. The other may not
come so welcome to you, but you must be our man. Glance over that, will
you?"
The official handed Ralph a card covered with calculations. There were
bewildering figures, so many cars, so many used per day, so much profit.
The totals were enormous.
"The Overland Fruit Dispatch," explained the superintendent, "is out for
bids on the transfer of their cars east from Rockton."
"I heard something of that."
"We are out for the contract. It means a big thing for us. So is the
Midland Central. That means war, or, rather, more war. Their schedule
beats ours by ten minutes. We must beat them by two hours. The test run
began at ten o'clock this morning. Porter and Winston, both good men,
run as far as Portland. I am not afraid in broad daylight. Nearly all
the trouble has been east of that point--you understand?"
"Perfectly," assented Ralph--"you are afraid of some trickery on the
part of our rivals?"
"Yes. I want you to reach Portland and catch the special at four p. m.
If the new locomotive crew look good to you, just superintend. But rush
that train into the yards by the stroke of eleven p. m., or we lose the
contract."
"I think I can do it," said Ralph.
"Very well, we give you free rein. Dismiss the crew and find a new one,
as you like. You have orders for clear tracks over everything else. Lay
out your schedule, give Glidden charge of the wires at headquarters, and
get us that contract."
"I will catch the first west through and report at eleven o'clock
to-night," promised Ralph confidently.
"Good for you, Fairbanks," commended the superintendent, slapping Ralph
encouragingly on the shoulder.
The next was a busy hour for Ralph. He studied the schedules, posted
Glidden, took a hurry run for home and caught the train just as it was
pulling out of the depot. Ralph reached Portland at half-past three in
the afternoon.
The special was on time and due in thirty minutes. She was to take water
and coal at the yards, and Ralph, making himself known to the operator
there, loitered outside. He saw the relief engineer appear. He was a man
he did not know, and something about his face and manner impressed the
young railroader rather unfavorably.
The man set his dinner pail near the steps of the switch tower and
walked about with the air of a person looking for some one. Then at a
low whistle he started for a pile of ties some distance away. A man
lurking there had beckoned to him. Ralph watched closely but drew back
out of view. His keenest wits were on the alert in a second. He had
recognized the lurker as a former unreliable employe of the Great
Northern, discharged at the time of the great strike.
Ralph feared this fellow might recognize him and dared not approach him
any nearer. The twain conversed for only a moment. Then the lurker
handed the engineer a bag. It held apparently about a bushel of some
kind of stuff. The engineer took it and returned to the tower, his
companion disappearing.
Just then the special came down the tracks. The locomotive was
disconnected and the tired and grimed crew drove for the dog house.
In a minute or two the relief engine came down the tracks in charge of
the fireman of the run. Ralph looked over the man. He had all the
appearances of an honest, plodding fellow. After he had hitched to the
train he got down to oil some cylinders. The engineer piled aboard with
his bag, chucked it under the seat, and alighted again and went back to
meet the conductor from the caboose.
Of that bag Ralph had been suspicious from the start. He now deftly took
the engine step, hauled out the bag, thrust it under the fireman's seat,
swung shut its swinging board, and sat down at the engineer's post.
"Hello!" exclaimed the fireman, stepping up into the cab--"who are you?"
"Your engineer this trip."
"Eh? Where does Bartley come in?"
"He don't come in," replied Ralph definitely.
"Your name Bartley?" inquired Ralph, as the engineer and the conductor
came up to the locomotive.
"That's me," smartly responded the man with a wondering look at Ralph.
"Well, you are relieved from duty on this special trip," advised Ralph.
"Hey--who says so?"
"The general superintendent. Is that right, operator?"
The towerman nodded, beckoned Bartley aside and made some explanations
to him. His auditor looked sullen and ugly. Ralph did not leave the post
of duty he had assumed, meantime giving the conductor an idea of how
affairs stood.
"Hold on, there," spoke Bartley in a gruff tone, as the train got ready
to start out. "I've got some personal property in that cab."
"All right," nodded Ralph in quite a friendly way--"get it out."
"Bag of apples for a mate down the line," mumbled the engineer, reaching
under the seat. "Bag of--thunder! they've gone."
The conductor had run to the caboose. The engineer drew back from the
empty void under the seat in a puzzled, baffled way. Ralph beckoned to
the operator.
"Watch that man," he ordered in a quick whisper. "If he tries to send
any messages ahead advise the operator to report instantly to
headquarters."
Then Ralph opened the throttle and sent the test special on her dubious
way, leaving the discomfited Bartley glaring after him in baffled
suspicion and distrust.