GRANT SAVES THE TRAIN.
“I must signal to the engineer in some way,” thought Grant. “How shall I
do it?”
He felt in his pocket and found that he had a white handkerchief of
large size. He wore a soft felt hat. This he took off, spread the
handkerchief over it, and then lifted it in the air on the tines of the
pitchfork. Then he sought a place where he might attract the attention
of the engineer.
About two hundred feet from the bridge there was a small eminence on one
side of the railroad. It was just in front of a curve, and this seemed
to Grant the best place to station himself. He posted himself there,
raised the pitchfork, and waited anxiously for the train.
By and by he heard the cars approaching. His heart was in his mouth.
“Will they see me?” he asked himself. “If not——” but he could not bear
to think of the alternative.
As the train drew nearer and nearer he began to wave the hat vigorously,
shouting at the same time, though he knew that his voice would be
drowned by the thunderous noise of the train.
Nearer and nearer came the train. Would it stop?
All at once his heart was filled with joy, for the train began to slow
up, and stopped just a little beyond where he was standing.
Grant ran forward till he was abreast with the engine.
“What’s the matter, boy?” demanded the engineer, half inclined to be
angry. “If you are playing a trick on me, I’ll give you a good
horse-whipping.”
“It’s no trick,” answered Grant earnestly. “The bridge just ahead is
broken down.”
“Good Heavens! is this true?”
“Get out and see for yourself.”
The engineer lost no time in following Giant’s advice. He and his young
guide walked forward, and he saw that Grant’s information was correct.
“It’s a narrow escape,” he said slowly. “The train would have been
wrecked, and by this time in all probability I should have been a dead
man.”
By this time a number of passengers, curious to know what had happened,
and why the train had stopped so suddenly, got off the cars and advanced
to where the engineer stood with Grant at his side.
“What’s the matter,” asked the first man.
“You can see for yourself,” answered the engineer, pointing to the
bridge.
“Good Heavens!”
“You’ve been as near death as you probably ever will be without meeting
it.”
“And what saved us?”
“This boy,” said the engineer, pointing to Grant. “But for him, some of
us would be dead men at this moment.”
Grant blushed, for all eyes were fixed on him.
“It was lucky I was here and discovered the broken bridge,” he said.
“Gentlemen,” said a portly, gray-haired man, a clergyman, “this boy has
under Providence been the means of saving our lives. He deserves a
reward.”
“So he does! So he does!” exclaimed a dozen men heartily.
“Let me set the example,” and the minister took off his hat and
deposited therein a five dollar bill. “I am not a rich man—ministers
seldom are—but what I give, I give with all my heart.”
“Here is another!” said the engineer. “I am perhaps under deeper
obligations than any one.”
“Let me contribute!” said a sweet-faced old lady, and she dropped
another five-dollar bill into the minister’s hat.
Then the passengers generally brought forward their contributions,
though some were able to give but a silver coin. There was one notable
exception: One man, when he saw what was going forward, quietly shrunk
away, and got back into the train.
“Who’s that man,” asked the engineer sharply.
“I know,” said an Irishman, who out of his poverty had given a dollar.
“It’s Mr. Leonard Buckley, of New York. He’s worth a million. He is rich
enough to buy us all up.”
“No matter how much money he possesses, he is a poor man,” said the
minister significantly.
“He’s given all his life is worth to the world,” said a passenger
cynically. “When he dies he won’t be missed.”
“And now, my young friend,” said the clergyman to Grant, “let me make
over to you this collection of money as a small acknowledgement from the
passengers of this train of the great service you have rendered us.”
While the collection was being taken up, Grant stood as if dazed. All
had passed so suddenly that he could not realize what it meant. Now he
found a voice to speak.
“I don’t think I ought to take it,” he said. “I didn’t do it for money.”
“Of course you didn’t!” said the clergyman. “If you had, your act would
have been far less commendable, though it might have been as effective.
I think you need not hesitate to take the money.”
“Take it, take it!” said more than one.
So Grant took the hat, and held it awkwardly for a moment, hardly
knowing what to do with the contents till some one suggested, “Put it in
your own hat!”
Grant did so, and then the engineer went forward to examine the bridge
more carefully, and decide what had better be done.
There was no further reason for Grant to remain, and he walked a little
distance away and began to count his money. There were one hundred and
forty dollars in bills, and about twelve dollars in silver.
“One hundred and fifty-two dollars!” said Grant, elated. “Now,” and his
face brightened up, “now I can go to California!”
But what should he do with the money? He felt that it would not be
prudent to carry it home, for his step-father would be sure to claim it.
He might hide it somewhere, but there was danger that it would be
discovered, and lost. Finally, he decided to carry it to Luke Weldon,
and ask him to keep it for him for the present. Luke was a poor man, but
he was thoroughly honest. There was no one in town who would not sooner
have trusted him than Seth Tarbox, though Seth had twenty dollars to his
one.
When Grant entered the farm-yard again, Luke looked up with surprise.
“What brings you back, Grant?” he asked.
“I want to ask a favor of you, Mr. Weldon.”
“I am always ready to do you a favor, Grant.”
“Will you keep some money for me?”
Luke Weldon was surprised. He knew pretty well how Grant was situated,
and that money must be a scarce article with him. Perhaps, however, he
had a little extra change which he was afraid of losing, he reflected.
“All right, Grant!” was his reply. “I’ll keep it for you. How much is
it?”
When Grant began to draw the bills out of his pocket, Luke’s eyes opened
with amazement.
“Where did you get all this money, Grant?” he asked. “You haven’t
been—no, I can’t believe it possible you’ve been robbing the old man.”
“I should think not,” returned Grant indignantly. “I haven’t sunk so low
as that.”
“But where did you get it? Why didn’t you ask me to take charge of it
when you were here before?”
“Because I didn’t have it.”
“Have you got it since?”
“Yes.”
“Then you found it somewhere. It must belong to some one who hid it.”
“No, it doesn’t. It was given to me.”
“I want to believe you, Grant, and I never knew you to tell a lie, but
it aint easy, boy, it aint easy. If you don’t tell me where and how you
got it, I can’t agree to keep it for you. It might be stolen money for
aught I know.”
“Then I’ll tell you, Luke. When I crossed the railroad I found the
bridge was broken. I signalled the train just in time to stop it’s going
across.”
“Sho! you don’t say! Then but for you the train would have been
wrecked?”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of you, Grant! Give me your hand. Why, boy, you’ve saved
fifty lives, perhaps.”
“That’s what the engineer said.”
“But about the money——”
“The passengers took up a contribution, and here it is.”
“How much is there?”
“As near as I can tell, for I counted it in a hurry, there’s a hundred
and fifty-two dollars.”
“And you deserve it all, Grant. Yes, I’ll keep it for you, and give it
back whenever you ask for it.”
“I was afraid Mr. Tarbox might try to get it away from me.”
“So he would, I make no doubt. He won’t get it from me, I’ll tell you
that.”
“Now I must be getting home. I’ve been away a long time.”
When Grant approached the farm-house, Rodney, who was standing in front
of the house, hailed him.
“Say, there’s a rod in pickle for you. Grandfather’s awfully mad at your
staying so long.”