INTO ANGRY WATERS
★
Bob ached in every muscle and he wondered, as he lay there on the trestle
with the rain beating down on him, if the dangers of being a federal
agent were worth the rewards. Then he swept that thought aside. Of course
it was worth it, for he was on the side of right and honor—a side for
which many a sacrifice could be willingly made.
As he lay on the bridge, trying to rally his senses and waiting for
enough strength to flow back through his body to enable him to sit up,
Bob’s eyes became more accustomed to the rain and the night. He tried to
pick out the form of Hamsa, who must be close to him, for the other man
had been underneath when they fell. The shock had been severe enough for
Bob and he wondered if the other had been seriously injured.
Finally Bob’s straining eyes picked out the form of the other man. He was
some feet away and beyond the outside rail of the trestle—on the very
edge of the bridge where a false move would plunge him into the rushing
waters below.
Bob tried to move, but he was still too weak and Hamsa was a dozen feet
away. He wanted to reach him and pull him away from the edge.
Someone at the end of the bridge was shouting and Bob turned his head to
see a group of trainmen, lanterns in their hands, making their way out on
the long trestle. They were coming cautiously for the long rain had made
the timbers slippery and treacherous.
As the trainmen moved out on the bridge, Bob’s eyes went back to Hamsa.
To his surprise the other man was moving, struggling to sit up, and Bob
called out a warning.
“Don’t move, Hamsa!” he ordered. “You’re under arrest. Stay where you are
or you’ll fall off the bridge.”
There was no reply from the other, but he continued his struggle to sit
up and Bob tried to drag himself closer to the man he had placed under
arrest. There was no strength left in his own arms or legs and he could
go only a foot or two.
The glow from the lanterns of the approaching trainmen now penetrated the
blackness and Bob could see Hamsa’s face turned toward him.
“You’re clever, Kid,” growled the other, “but you’re not going to arrest
me this time. I’ll see you later and when I do, watch out!”
Then the other turned and deliberately rolled to the edge of the trestle.
“Hamsa, you’re under arrest!” cried Bob. But he knew the words were
futile for the only reply was a mocking laugh. Then Hamsa disappeared
over the edge and seconds later there was the dull splash of a heavy body
striking the water. Bob thought he heard the mocking laugh once more, but
he couldn’t be sure.
Then the trainmen, led by the conductor, reached the scene.
“Where’s the other fellow?” demanded the conductor.
Bob pointed to the darkness below.
“He just rolled over the edge,” he said.
The startled conductor went to the edge of the trestle and swung his
lantern over the side, but only the rush of dark waters could be seen.
“That’s the last you’ll see of him,” he said. “This stream is on a
rampage and only a powerful man could get to shore.”
Bob nodded, but he was not sure about the conductor’s surmise that he had
seen the last of Hamsa for he was both a powerful and resourceful man.
The trainmen helped Bob to his feet and assisted him back to the Limited.
“I guess now you’ll be content to go to bed and give us a little rest,”
said the conductor when Bob reached his own berth.
“I’ve got to get off a telegram first,” replied Bob. “Give me the name of
that stream and the correct time.”
The conductor supplied the information and Bob wrote a brief report of
the night’s events and addressed it to Waldo Edgar, the chief of the
division of investigation back in Washington.
“See that this message is dispatched at the first stop,” said Bob. Then
he turned, crawled between the crisp, cool sheets, and dropped into a
deep sleep of exhaustion.