OFF THE TRACK.
The appearance of the dummy, going at full speed, filled me with
anxiety. I was sure that something was wrong, for I knew that Major
Toppleton was not stirring at that hour in the morning, and that he
could not have given any one permission to take out the car without
telling me of it. I hastened up to the engine-house; but it was empty,
and added nothing to my meagre stock of ideas on the vexed subject. The
dummy was gone, and that was all I knew about it.
The Institute buildings were only a short distance from the
engine-house, and I next went there in search of information. The
students were engaged, in large numbers, in their sports. Indeed, there
were so many of them present that the suspicion I had entertained
that some of the boys had gone on a lark in the dummy seemed to be
disarmed. Still, a dozen or twenty of them would not be missed in the
crowd, and it was possible that this number were in mischief, though I
thought, if it were so, they had chosen a singular time of day for it.
The students were rung up in the morning at six o’clock; but, by
a merciful provision of the governors of the Institute, the first
hour was devoted to play, so that those who were behind time cheated
themselves out of just so much sport. I was informed that only a few
neglected to get up when the bell rang; and I commend this humane and
cunning arrangement to other institutions troubled by the matutinal
tardiness of students. The morning is favorable to bold schemes and
active movements; and the more I thought of the matter, the more
anxious I became to know whose places would be vacant at the breakfast
table, at seven o’clock, when the bell rang for the morning meal.
I inquired for Faxon, and soon found him making a “home run” in a game
of base ball. Before I had time to address him the breakfast bell
rang; and with a most surprising unanimity, all games were instantly
suspended--a fact which ought to convince humanitarian educators that
breakfast, dinner, and supper should immediately follow play, if boys
are to be taught habits of promptness. The students rushed towards
“Grub Hall,” as the dining-room was called; but, though Faxon had a
good appetite, I succeeded, with some difficulty, in intercepting his
headlong flight.
“What’s the row, Wolf?” demanded he, glancing at the open door through
which the boys were filing to the breakfast table, and possibly fearing
that the delay would involve an inferior piece of beefsteak.
“Are any of the fellows missing?” I asked.
“Not that I know of; but we can tell at the table,” replied he. “What’s
up?”
“The dummy is gone,” I answered, mysteriously.
“Gone! Gone where?”
“I don’t know. I saw her streaking it down the road as if she had been
shot off.”
“Don’t say a word about it; but hold on here till I get my grub, and
see who is missing,” said he, rushing into the building.
I did not understand what Faxon purposed to do; but I was willing to
comply with the arrangement, in compassion for his stomach, if for
no other reason. I had feared that my associate on the engine was
concerned in the conspiracy to abstract the dummy, for I did not think
any one else would be able to manage it. I was glad to find he had not
engaged in the lark, and I wondered all the more who had the audacity
to play with the machine. I walked over to a point on the Institute
grounds which commanded a view of the Lake Shore for some distance; but
I could see nothing of the dummy. Presently, Faxon, who had satisfied
the cravings of his hunger in a remarkably short time, came out of the
building.
“Briscoe and half a dozen other fellows are missing,” said he.
“Briscoe!” I exclaimed; for he was the fellow who had invaded my
quarters the night before, and declared he could handle the engine.
“He’s a first-rate fellow, in the main, and I hope he isn’t getting
into any scrape,” added Faxon, anxiously.
“I’m afraid he is. He is the fellow who has run away with the dummy.”
“Don’t say a word. I have permission to be out an hour, and we will see
where they are. What can we do?”
“We can take one of the platform cars, and go after them.”
“Come along; but don’t say anything.”
We went to the engine-house, and lifted one of the platform cars on the
track. The Lake Shore Railroad, as I had found by running the dummy,
had a slight descent from Middleport to Spangleport. We pushed the car,
running behind it, till we had worked it up to a high rate of speed,
and then leaped upon the platform. The impetus thus given to it kept it
going for a mile, when the motive power was applied again, as before.
In this manner we ran three miles, without making very hard work of it,
and came in sight of the dummy.
“There she is!” exclaimed Faxon. “The fellows did not go a great way in
her.”
“No! but they went as far as they could,” I replied, as soon as I had
examined the situation of the car, which was not in motion when we
discovered it.
“How do you know?”
“She’s off the track.”
“That’s too bad!”
For my own part I was rather glad the enterprise of the runaways had
been nipped in the bud, for I had a professional contempt for those who
attempt to run an engine when they know nothing about one. I only hoped
the dummy and the boys were not injured. As we approached nearer to the
scene of the disaster, we saw the conspirators hard at work trying to
get the dummy on the track.
“What are you about, you spoonies!” shouted Faxon, as we stopped the
car close to the unfortunate dummy.
“We are trying to get the thing on the track,” replied Briscoe, as
coolly as though he had done nothing wrong.
“How came she out here?” demanded Faxon.
“Oh, well, we were having a little fun with her.”
“You were missed at breakfast, and you will catch fits for this.”
“I suppose we shall; but we can’t help it now.”
“What did you meddle with her for, you spoonies, when you didn’t know
anything about her?” continued Faxon, indignantly.
“I know all about her, as well as you do, Faxon. You needn’t put on
airs because you helped run the thing,” retorted Briscoe.
“I should think you did know all about her; and that’s the reason why
you ran her off the track. You don’t know so much as you think you do.”
“That may be, but I know more than you think I do.”
“What did you run her off for?”
“I suppose it is considered rather necessary to have rails for this
thing to run on,” replied Briscoe. “If you will look ahead of her, you
will see that the track is torn up for a quarter of a mile, and the
rails carried off.”
“Is that so?” added Faxon, walking out ahead of the dummy.
“That’s so, as you may see for yourself,” said Briscoe, following us
along the track.
“Who did it? That’s the next question,” asked Faxon, vexed, as we all
were, at the discovery.
“I don’t know; we didn’t,” answered Briscoe. “If the track hadn’t been
pulled up, we should have returned at breakfast time. What’s to be
done?”
“You must get back as quick as you can,” replied the benevolent Faxon.
“I won’t blow on you. Take that car, and make time for the Institute.”
“You’re a good fellow, Faxon,” added Briscoe, with a smile.
“If I am, don’t you play this game again.”
“I won’t, again.”
“How did it work?” I inquired, wishing to hear the experience of the
runaways.
“First rate. I had no trouble with it. She started when I pulled the
thing, and we made time on her coming down, you had better believe.”
“I should think you did. I saw you putting her through by daylight.”
“Edwards saw the track was gone, and told me of it. I shut off steam,
and put on the brakes; but I couldn’t fetch up soon enough to keep from
running off.”
“All I have to say is, that you are lucky to come out of it with a
whole skin,” I added, solemnly. “But hurry back as fast as you can, or
you will be in hot water.”
“I’m in hot water now, and I may as well be scalded with a quart as a
pint. I am willing to stay and help you put her on the track.”
“Don’t do it, Briscoe,” interposed Faxon. “You are one of the
directors, and if the major finds out you meddled with the dummy, he
will have you turned out of office. Rush back to the Institute, and
don’t let on.”
The runaways were willing to adopt this advice. There were half a dozen
of them, and as they could make easy work of pushing the car back, they
soon disappeared behind the trees.
“You won’t let on--will you, Wolf?” said Faxon, in a coaxing tone, as
soon as we were alone.
“I won’t volunteer to tell any stories out of school; but I shall not
tell any lies about it.”
“Don’t be squeamish. Briscoe is a good fellow, and one of the
directors. The major would break him if he heard of this thing.”
“Between you and me, I think he ought to be broken. Suppose they had
burst the boiler, and been wiped out themselves?”
“That’s all very pretty; but they didn’t burst the boiler, and were not
wiped out.”
“I’m at work for Major Toppleton. If he asks me any questions, I shall
tell him the truth.”
“Oh, come now!”
“But I don’t think he is likely to ask me any questions. There will be
a breeze when he finds out the track has been torn up, and there will
be fog enough with it to cover up those fellows.”
“Be a good fellow, Wolf, and don’t say a word.”
“I will not if I can help it. I don’t think anybody will know anything
about this scrape. Those who saw the dummy come out will suppose I was
on her. But here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” I added, glancing at the
dummy, and then at the road minus the rails.
“Can we put the thing on the track again?”
“I think we can--we can try it, at least. We want some of those rails
for levers.”
“Where are they?” asked the puzzled Faxon. “Did some one steal them for
old iron?”
“No; they are not far off,” I replied, leading the way down to the Lake
Shore.
We walked along the beach, till I discovered footsteps in the sand.
“Here is where they landed,” I added, pointing to the prints, and also
to some deep lines gored in the sand by a couple of boats, which had
been hauled up on the beach.
“Who landed? I don’t understand it.”
“I do; an enemy has done this. The Wimpletonians have been over here
during the night and torn up your track.”
“If they did, it will be a sorry day for them,” said Faxon, grating his
teeth and shaking his head.
“These footprints were made by dandy boots, and all the party were
boys. It’s as plain as the nose on Colonel Wimpleton’s face;” and the
great man of Centreport was troubled with a long proboscis.
“They’ll catch it for this.”
We walked along till we came to Grass Brook, and there we found the
rails thrown into the deep water at the mouth of it. The end of one of
them lay within my reach, and I pulled it out. Using this as a lever,
we pried up the wheels of the dummy, and, after an hour of severe
exertion, we succeeded in putting the car upon the track.