THE THREAT DIRECT
Had Ralph Fairbanks not been standing just outside the telegraph
office window he would not have obtained a certain bit of information
which proved, later, to be most important.
He had heard the operator send Mr. Hopkins’ wire to his daughter, and
he knew very well that the girl would quickly respond to his and her
mother’s need. But Ralph was not at all expecting such a seemingly
prompt response as followed.
The big illuminated clock in the train shed now pointed to a quarter
to twelve. The long string of cars belonging to the Midnight Flyer had
been backed in some time before and the gates had been opened for the
passengers to swarm aboard. The berths were all made up, of course,
and the passengers immediately went to bed.
The young engineer, standing there idly, had his mind fixed upon the
Hopkins’ troubles. How shocked Cherry would be to learn of her
mother’s serious condition! It was true, as Ralph’s mother had said,
never before had her son thought so much of any girl as he did of
Cherry Hopkins.
Suddenly he heard the Rockton call on the telegraph sounder. It was
rapped out a dozen times before Silsby, the operator, got to the key.
“I, I, Rok,” was the notification Silsby gave impatiently.
“Night letter for Super Hop. Overlooked. Shoot it,” came the reply, as
plain to Ralph’s ear as it was to Silsby’s.
“Oh, boy!” retorted the Rockton operator. “You’re all set for trouble.
I’ll try to smooth it. Go!”
Instantly the sounder began to click again and the Morse flowed
smoothly to the listening engineer’s ears:
“B. Hop., Super,
“Rockton.
“Got mother’s letter. Know she is ill.
Am starting to-night on 10:40. Con. will
pass me on your book. Tell mother I am
coming.
“(Signed) C. Hopkins.”
It was odd, but the first thought Ralph Fairbanks had on overhearing
this delayed message of Cherry Hopkins to her father was that the
Midnight Flyer would pass the 10:40 from Shelby Junction in Shadow
Valley not far from the Devil’s Den.
This message that had been delayed by some oversight should have
reached the supervisor before he telegraphed to his daughter to come
home. Cherry had evidently read between the lines of her mother’s
letter and determined to rejoin Mrs. Hopkins, whether her father
approved or not.
“Plucky girl!” thought Ralph. “She’s one person who doesn’t cower
before the Great-I-Am. And she is already on the iron, coming home, as
she thinks, without her father’s approval. Well, I guess the Hopkins
will have to fight their family battles without any aid from me.”
Ralph started for the edge of the platform, for he saw the rear of the
locomotive backing in. Stilling held the throttle. This fireman would
soon apply for an engineer’s job. He handled the huge machine like a
veteran, and when the coupling was made the passengers already in
their berths aboard the train scarcely knew it, save for the long sigh
of the compressed air.
Ralph stepped aboard while the firemen made the connections. As usual
he put his can under the seat on the driver’s side. As he stooped to
do this, he saw something white fluttering in the draught.
It was a folded paper hung upon a nail under the seat. He could not
have missed seeing it when he set the luncheon kit down on the floor.
He picked up the paper and stood up. He unfolded it in the light of
his target lamp. Written boldly across the sheet were these words:
“Fairbanks:—You’re due for a bump to-night. If you like
yourself, stay off the Midnight Flyer.”
This threatening screed was unsigned. And yet, as Ralph stared at it,
he somehow felt that he had seen the careless writing before.
Who was this who seemed to be warning him, as well as threatening him?
Was it a fake, or in earnest? Were the strikers or their friends
trying to frighten him? Or did somebody who really felt kindly toward
the young engineer believe that he should be warned of a real danger?
And where had he seen that handwriting before?
This last question seemed as important as the others. After the
blowing out of the trestle pillar at the Devil’s Den, Ralph could
easily believe that Andy McCarrey’s crowd would attempt other wicked
designs against the peace and safety of the road and its loyal
employees.
That the malcontents were making a grave mistake was undoubtedly a
fact. The outrage at Devil’s Den and further attempts to wreck trains
on the division would arouse the antagonism of the Brotherhoods
instead of bringing their membership into line, as McCarrey had hoped.
Such attempts threatened the lives of the train crews. Engineers and
firemen and conductors and brakemen could not be frightened into
aiding McCarrey in his wildcat strike. That went without saying.
Ralph had very little time to decide what he should do about this
paper that he had found under his bench. He glanced up at the clock.
Three minutes of midnight!
But as his gaze fell to the platform again he saw the tall figure of
Mr. Adair hurrying along beside the train. Ralph leaned farther out of
the window and beckoned him.
“What do you want, Ralph?” asked the chief detective hastily, as he
leaped up the steps of the locomotive. “I have just heard——”
“And I’ve just found _this_.” The young engineer told him where. “And
I believe I’ve seen that writing before.”
“Whose is it?” demanded Adair the instant he had scanned the warning
words.
Ralph leaned closer to his ear and whispered a name. Adair started.
“No?” he cried. “Do you believe that?”
“Compare it with that paper Zeph gave you,” urged Ralph.
The gong sounded. The young engineer’s hand went to the throttle. The
conductor shouted “All aboard!”
“Keep your eyes open, Ralph,” advised the chief detective, swinging
himself down. “That is no idle threat. I am going to keep the wires
hot ahead of the Midnight Flyer to-night. Never mind if you smash your
schedule all to flinders. Safety first, my boy.”
“That is not the super’s motto,” said Ralph, rather sharply. “‘Get her
through,’ is what he wants.”
“You should worry!” exclaimed Adair as the great drivers began to
turn. “The G. M. is behind you. I am having the whole division
watched. I’ll jack the boys up right now. But if anything happens——”
His voice trailed off into silence. At least it was drowned by the
exhaust. The express rumbled out from under the train shed and Ralph
eased her through the yards.
“Due for a bump to-night.” If that warning was serious, it was well
worth Ralph Fairbanks’ attention.
“But the fellow doesn’t intimate where the bump is coming. Humph!
Perhaps he doesn’t know. I bet that Andy McCarrey, if he has planned
to hold up this train again, is not telling many people about it.
“Just those who do his wicked work. And who are _they_? Is Whitey
Malone down there in Shadow Valley yet? Is it he whom Zeph is
watching? Did he set off the dynamite that blew out that pillar?
“My goodness! I could ask a hundred questions along this line and get
the same answer to all. Nothing! Well——”
The train left the outskirts of Rockton without any trouble. It ran
smoothly over the well-ballasted track. The engineer and firemen gazed
ahead keenly. All were on the alert for trouble, but Ralph did not
tell his firemen of the warning he had received.
“Why worry them?” he thought. “It’s bad enough that I should feel as
though a sword were hanging over me.”