THE FREIGHT THIEVES
Two days later Zeph Dallas came to Stanley Junction to purchase some
supplies for Mr. Gibson's construction camp. In the evening he called
at the Fairbanks home. The farmer boy had located the relatives of
Earl Danvers, and his report verified the story of the latter, who had
disappeared from home, and, according to his uncles, his whereabouts
was unknown to them.
Ralph related the story of the burglary, and Zeph was at once
interested. He believed that some mystery of importance was attached
to the old coat. When he had gone away Ralph got to thinking this
over.
"Mother," he asked, "do you know the man to whom you sold that old
coat?"
"Why, yes," replied Mrs. Fairbanks. "He is the man who goes around
with an old wagon visiting the different country towns in this
district in turn."
Ralph made some inquiries, and ascertained that the peddler in
question made his headquarters at Dover. He resolved upon opportunity
to visit the man at a near date, although it was probable that the
coat with the rags sold with it had been sent to some mill. A few days
later Zeph came again to Stanley Junction and Ralph told him about the
peddler.
For a time after this, affairs ran on smoothly for the Limited Mail
and her experienced crew, and Ralph had settled down to a quiet
enjoyment of congenial employment when there occurred a break in the
routine that once more placed him in a position of peril.
One day as he returned from the city run, the roundhouse foreman
informed him that he was to report at the office of the master
mechanic. Ralph did not go home, but went at once to answer the
summons.
The master mechanic was his good friend and received him with his
usual cordiality.
"Fairbanks," he said, "you are pretty well known to the officers of
the road, and favorably, too, I suppose you know that."
"It is a pleasure to have you say so," answered the young fireman.
"They seem especially to value your ability in running down
crookedness and ferreting out criminals," pursued the master
mechanic. "The superintendent wired me today to have one road
detective start out on a certain case. I wired back that Mr. Adair was
engaged in a special case in the city. The return was to relieve you
of regular duty and have you report at Afton this afternoon."
Ralph nodded to indicate that he understood, but he said:
"I do not like these interruptions to routine duty, but I suppose the
company knows where it most needs a fellow."
Ralph went down the road shortly after noon. He reached Afton and
reported at once to the assistant superintendent.
"I have ordered a substitute fireman on the Mail for a week,
Fairbanks," said that official. "I think we shall engage your services
for that length of time."
"Is it some particular case, sir?" asked Ralph.
"A very important case, yes. We seem to have got rid of incompetent
employes and strikers, thanks to you and others who stood by the
company in time of trouble. There is one thing, however, that is
bothering us. It bothers every road more or less, but we won't have
it."
Ralph waited for a further explanation.
"Freight thieves, Fairbanks," continued the official. "Some gang is
regularly stealing from the road. When, where and how it is done we
have been unable to ascertain. A train will leave the city or the
Junction, arrive at terminus, and some valuable package will be
missing. The car seals will be all right, no one seems to have entered
the car, and yet the pilfering goes on. Will you help us run down the
thieves?"
"I will try," answered Ralph. "What trains seem to suffer most?"
"Always the night freights," replied the assistant superintendent.
"Now, take your time, spare no expense, and go to work on this problem
in your usual effective way."
Ralph devoted the remainder of the day to going up and down the road
and familiarizing himself with the various freight trains and their
schedules.
Just after dark he clambered into the cab of the night freight leaving
the city. It was a dark, sleety night, for cold weather had just set
in.
The engineer was a tried and trusty veteran in the service. Ralph felt
that he understood him, and that he must trust him to a degree in
order to facilitate his own programme. He waited till the fireman was
busy outside on the engine, then he spoke to the old engineer.
"Mr. Barton, I am on special duty here tonight."
"That so, lad?" inquired the engineer.
"Yes, I suppose you know there is a good deal of missing freight in
these night runs."
"I heard so," answered Barton, "but you see that is the business of
the conductor, so I haven't much troubled myself about it."
"Still, you don't care to have these things occur in your runs."
"Should say not! Working on the case, Fairbanks?"
"Frankly, yes, Mr. Barton, and I want you to keep it quiet, but assist
me when you can. I will be all over the train and the car tops
to-night, and wanted to explain why to you."
"That's all right, lad. Just call on me if I can help you. Hello, you,
Woods!" bawled the engineer suddenly to a fellow who appeared near the
cab side, "what you doing there?"
The man slunk out of view at being addressed, with a muttered remark
that it was his own business.
"Don't like that fellow--caboose look-out," explained Barton.
"I hope he did not overhear our conversation," spoke Ralph.
About mid-way of the train there was a gondola oil car. It had an
elevated runway so that train hands could pass over it readily. Ralph
selected this car as a vantage point, and got aboard as the train
started on its way for Stanley Junction.
He was dressed as a tramp, looked the character completely, and the
false moustache he wore effectually changed his face so that no
persons except familiar friends would easily recognize him.
Ralph got down at one side of the big oil tank. For the next hour he
remained quiet. Finally, as a brakeman passed over the platform, he
climbed up and kept track of his movements.
The man, however, simply passed up and down the train and then
returned to the caboose. Then there was a stop. Ralph leaned from the
car and looked up and down the train.
"Why," exclaimed Ralph suddenly, "there is that fellow Woods working
at the doors of the cars a little ahead there."
The brakeman in question now came down the length of the train. The
engine was taking water. He halted almost opposite the car Ralph was
hiding on. Suddenly he uttered a low, sharp whistle, and it was
answered. Three men appeared from the side of the track, spoke to him,
bounded up on to the oil car, and crouched down so near to Ralph that
he could almost touch them.
Woods stood on the next track with his lantern as if waiting for the
train to start up.
"Cars marked," he spoke. "I'll flash the glim when the coast is clear.
You'll know the cases I told you about."
There was no response. The locomotive whistled, and the brakeman ran
back to the caboose. Ralph lay perfectly still. The three men sat up
against the railing of the car.
"Got the keys to the car ventilators?" asked one of the men, finally.
"Sure," was the response. "Say, fellows, we want to be wary. This is a
clever game of ours, but I hear that the railroad company is watching
out pretty close."
"Oh, they can't reach us," declared another voice, "with Woods taking
care of the broken seals, and all kinds of duplicate keys, we can
puzzle them right along."
Just then one of them arose to his feet. He stumbled heavily over
Ralph.
"Hello!" he yelled, "who is this?"