All Stanley Junction was agog with the story of the "crazy" train orders
the day after the storm.
It was one of the most remarkable occurrences of risk and danger ever
known in the history of the Great Northern.
Expert railroad men looked grave, as the facts came out. Citizens
generally shuddered, as they realized how nearly the caprice of a mad
leverman had come to causing wide-spread death and disaster.
Ralph Fairbanks himself was thrilled and amazed, as he learned from Jack
Knight's lips the facts of the case.
From ten o'clock the evening the storm until nearly two o'clock the
ensuing morning, a madman had controlled the Great Northern train system
at Stanley Junction, out and in.
For over three hours, therefore, Ralph, at the depot switch tower, had
been the plaything of a crazed, delirious human being, who, by force and
cunning, had usurped the place of trusty, experienced old Joe Bryson.
This was the way it had all come about:
When the master mechanic and Jack Knight reached the limits tower after
the report of the double wreck, they had found it in total darkness.
The ladder trap was bolted. They had to break the trap open. Entering
the tower room and securing a light, they discovered a strange and
startling condition of affairs.
Lying on the floor in a heavy, leaden sleep, was Bryson. Crouching in a
corner, with lurid eyes, physical strength exhausted, but raving in wild
delirium, was Doc Bortree.
The telephone receiver was smashed, and the transmitter lay torn loose,
wires and all, on the floor. Other parts of the tower equipment were in
rare disorder. The west levers were set in all kinds of erratic and
impracticable shapes.
It took the two railroad men fully half an hour to restore order from
the chaos in the tower and along the tracks. It took them double that
time to arouse Bryson, and to get Bortree into a state of partial
coherency. They sent messengers to Bortree's home. They listened to
Bryson's confused story. Then, putting this and that together, they
finally got the truth of affairs. Doc Bortree, as Ralph knew, had been
confined to his bed with a high fever for nearly a week. That was why,
compelled to share two long shifts with Knight alone, Ralph happened to
be on all-night duty at the present time.
It seemed that early in the evening, Bortree's sister had left her
brother sleeping quietly. He appeared to be on the mend.
About ten o'clock the sick leverman must have had a relapse into
delirium. Railroad service was his daily routine. His brain, running
in that line, had suggested to him a whimsical and irrational course.
This he had carried out with all the cunning of a real madman.
He had taken a bottle of cordial and had poured into it a sleeping
potion. He had got into his clothes, left the room by opening a window,
and, breasting the violent tempest, had made for and reached the limits
tower.
Joe Bryson afterwards, in telling his story, said that the bedraggled
appearance of Bortree was startling enough. His actions were quite
lucid, however. All he noticed peculiar about his talk was the
persistency and strange delight with which Bortree alluded to an order
he expected to receive from the superintendent to take charge of the
entire train dispatching service the next day.
When Bortree produced the bottle and told that it was a mild, pleasant
wine the doctor had prescribed for him, Bryson indulged in a glass--"for
companionship's sake." Then he remembered nothing further until
awakened by the master mechanic and Jack Knight.
As soon as Bortree had disposed of his companion, he began his mad,
riotous work.
All kinds of exaggerated ideas must have filled his mind. The reader
has already seen how his crazy orders operated. His own work at the
limits had ditched the midnight mail. His instructions to Ralph had
sent the through freight crashing into the three freight empties at
terminus.
Finally, exhausted after his mad work at the levers, Bortree had
commenced a work of general destruction. When through, he had
extinguished the lights and lapsed into a weak delirium in which the two
railroad men had finally found him.
"There should always be a team at the limits tower," was Knight's
ultimate comment on the affair.
"Yes," the master mechanic assented--"sickness, enmity, a burned-out
wire, a dozen things might come up where one man would be helpless. If
it is only a messenger, we must not again leave these important points
at the mercy of chance and accident."
Ralph made a note of this suggestion. He determined when the right
moment came to speak a good word for Young Slavin.
He had never been more tired and sleepy than when he reached home that
morning.
Ralph ate a hurried breakfast. He explained only casually the
happenings of the night to his mother. Getting to bed promptly, he put
in ten hours of the solidest sleep that he had ever enjoyed.
He found his mother quite nervous and worried when he reported for his
late afternoon dinner. Mrs. Fairbanks had learned from a neighbor of
the startling occurrences of the previous night.
"I am all unstrung over this railroad business, Ralph," she said. "I
would feel easier in my mind if you could transfer to some branch of the
service where you were not constantly meeting these terrible dangers."
"What! my own dear mother going back on me in the midst of my
ambitions!" cried Ralph in a tone of playful raillery. "Oh, surely,
never! I hope you wouldn't advise me to follow old Farrington's grand
suggestion--for his own benefit; get a clerical position at the general
offices at Springfield, and--as he puts it--'be a gentleman.'"
"No, Ralph, I should not like to have you leave Stanley Junction, where
you have made such a good record," responded Mrs. Fairbanks, "but think
of the fearful responsibilities of your position."
"I do," answered Ralph gravely, "and that is why I am going to stick.
Mother, someone has to face these serious issues. Perhaps my clear
head, and willing hands, and genuine love for the business, fit me to be
just the person to fill the gap when these unavoidable troubles come
along. Besides, if someone does not go through the apprenticeship,
where will the service be when Jack Knight and the other old hands have
retired? I want to be, as I expect to be, a thorough railroad man,"
pursued Ralph with resolution, "and first-class, or nothing. In order
to do so, I must know every step of the service, from roundhouse to
train dispatcher's desk. I have started up the ladder. I can't afford
to slip one rung. If I get jolted, I intend to hang on all the closer."
The widow was silent. Her son's earnest determination consoled her,
somehow. Yes, she reflected, Ralph had braved perils and had saved the
lives of others, where one less brave and self-reliant might have
failed. So far he had proven himself "the right man in the right
place." Secretly she murmured a fervent prayer for his safety and
guidance, and tried to be content until he should reach smoother and
less risky paths of service.
Ralph received an official assurance from the superintendent through
loyal old Jack Knight that afternoon, that his action in dealing with
the crazy orders had won the highest commendation of the railroad
company.
The following day he spoke about Young Slavin to Knight. The next day
the latter informed him that on the first of the month the master
mechanic had agreed to pass on the application which Slavin was to file
in the meantime. Nothing unforseen happening, it looked as if the
sturdy young pugilist would speedily have a chance to exercise his
muscle in some department of the Great Northern service.
Pleasant routine succeeded for some days for Ralph to the exciting
episodes of the week previous. Some changes were made on the limits
tower, and the day man there transferred to the depot yards.
Ralph was back on the shift he preferred; four hours in the morning, and
four hours in the afternoon.
He had not heard again from Van. As to Mort Bemis and Ike Slump, they
had flashed into town, thrown away a lot of money along lower Railroad
Street, and had again disappeared.
Ralph met Slavin one day. The latter was delighted over the prospect of
soon getting at work for the railroad company. His face scowled,
however, as Ralph asked if he had seen or heard anything concerning Ike
and Mort.
"Why, yes," answered Slavin, "I heard they were cutting a dash up at the
racetrack at Springfield. Plenty of money, and bragging that they owned
a rich old magnate here at Stanley Junction. I'd go gunning for them,
if I wasn't waiting to hear from my railroad job."
"Oh, leave them alone--why bother your head about them?" suggested
Ralph.
"No, Fairbanks," dissented Slavin stubbornly. "I want those medals, or
I want their hides. I'm not a good enough Salvationer just yet to
forgive those villains. I can't wipe them off the slate till I've had
one last round with them."
Gasper Farrington had completed the switch spur to the factory. Ralph
learned that he had invited a heavy damage suit by crossing the lot of a
poor old invalid widow, who occupied a house next to that where Mrs.
Davis had formerly lived.
He heard a good many comments on this last act of the selfish,
tyrannical magnate. There was some current criticism, too, as to his
going on the bonds of the idle scapegrace, Ike Slump. Farrington
pretended that he had bailed out Ike because his father was an old
acquaintance. Ralph knew better, but held his peace. He had faith that
the real truth would come out, sooner or later.
With entire confidence in Van Sherwin, he believed that he would soon
receive some word from that good friend to show he had been quietly
working in the dark all this time.
About five o'clock one afternoon a barefooted urchin Ralph did not know
by name came up the switch tower ladder. Ralph was alone, but expected
Knight to relieve him at five o'clock.
"Say," projected the frowsy-headed lad, staring curiously around the
place, "you Mr. Fairbanks?"
"That's right, my little man," answered Ralph.
"Say, you know Mr. Stiggs?"
"Slightly," nodded Ralph, with a smile.
"Well, he sent me here. He said to fetch a message to you."
Ralph recalled the fact now that Mr. Stiggs had not shown up about the
yards for the past two days. This was an unusual thing for the old
railroad pensioner.
"Is Mr. Stiggs sick?" he inquired with interest.
"Dunno," answered the youngster. "It was his wife I talked with. She
said Mr. Stiggs would like to have you call about seven o'clock, if
convenient. He wants to see you."
"Very well," said Ralph. "Are you to see her again?"
"Why, I can."
"Then tell her I will drop around at seven o'clock this evening."
The urchin lingered. He was a shrewd-faced little fellow.
"Say," he again projected, "Mrs. Stiggs didn't have any change."
"Didn't have--oh, I see!" laughed Ralph. "All right, son--there's a
nickel."
Ralph thought little of this incident for the remainder of the
afternoon. He fancied that Stiggs might be indisposed, and had some
mission for him to execute.
He went home, ate his supper, and strolled slowly in the direction of
the Stiggs home about dusk.
There was a light in the rear room, and the front door was open. Ralph
knocked.
"Come in," sounded a vague direction from the little front parlor.
Ralph stepped into the hall and crossed the threshold of the parlor. He
made out a figure dimly, standing by a chair.
"That you, Mr. Stiggs?" he observed. "Pretty dark here. Hold on--what
is this?"
Ralph started back. The figure behind him had made a jump and had
seized either arm of the youth by the wrist.
At the same moment a second person sprang from the shadows behind Ralph.
A rope encircled the young leverman's body, and Ralph Fairbanks was a
prisoner.