When the prow lamp of the _Rambler_, in response to the turning of the
switch by the excited boy, flared out, Case saw a slender figure
standing close to the cabin door, which was closed. The lad’s first
impulse was to fire at the intruder, but the figure looked so shrinking,
so lacking in aggressiveness, the face showing under a man’s slouch hat
was so white, so appealing, that he lowered his weapon and called out:
“What are you doing here?”
There was no verbal answer, but the boy, for such the intruder appeared
to be, began slowly backing away, toward the railing of the boat.
“Stand where you are!” ordered Case, presenting his weapon again. “I
want to know something about this. Look up here!”
The other’s eyes, shrinking and afraid, looked for a moment into those
above the threatening revolver and then dropped.
“Where did you come from?” was the next question. “What are you doing on
board the _Rambler_? Why do you come sneaking up?”
Case thought he saw a quick start at the mention of the name of the
boat, but still there was no reply.
“Oh, come on!” Case advised, in a kinder tone, “you’d better talk. I
shall not hurt you. Did you get off that freight?”
Case had lowered his arm while speaking, and the intruder took advantage
of the fact. He leaped backward, over the railing, to the floor of the
car and jumped to the ground. It was all done so quickly that Case had
no time to prevent the escape, and that would doubtless have been the
last of the boy, so far as he was concerned, if a strange and unexpected
element had not intruded into the case.
When Case stepped forward to the railing of the deck and looked down, he
heard a cry of fright and saw a white figure and a brown one tumbling
about on the ground.
“Let go—let go!” came a voice from out the entanglement.
This was followed by a snarling growl in which Case recognized the
deep-chested voice of Captain Joe.
“Here!” the boy called out to the dog. “Let up, Captain Joe! Watch him,
old fellow, but don’t eat him up!”
The dog separated himself from the tangle and sat up, his wrinkled nose,
his twitching ears and jerking tail, apparently following every movement
of his late antagonist.
“Did he bite you?” asked Case, hastening down to where the boy lay, not
daring to make a move.
“I—I don’t know,” was the pitiful reply. “I think he tore my clothes,
though.”
“Lucky he didn’t tear your throat,” Case commented. “Get up and come
into the cabin. I want to know who you are, and why you are here. Keep
away, Captain Joe!”
The dog did not seem pleased with the idea of transferring his prisoner
to the custody of another, but he mounted slowly to the deck of the
motor boat and sat gloomily watching the two until the cabin door closed
against him.
“Well, that’s a nice way to thank a fellow!” his eyes seemed to say, as
he turned an ear to the east in response to the beating of wheels on the
upward grade.
There was another train coming, and Case opened the cabin door and
looked out Captain Joe greeted him with a dignity which was at once a
promise of forgiveness and a reminder of previous discourteous
treatment.
Case listened an instant and turned his face back into the cabin.
“I’m going out now,” he said to the captive inside, “but I’m leaving the
dog on guard. He’ll eat you up if you try to get away.”
With this cheerful remark he turned from the cabin and listened to the
steady roar of the approaching train.
“If you are hungry,” he called back, already moving away and leaving the
door open so that the watchful dog might be seen from the interior,
“there are cold pancakes and bacon on the table, and coffee on the
stove. We got supper a long time ago, but this has been our busy night,
so we haven’t eaten yet.”
There was an instantaneous rattling of dishes and Case smiled as he
peered through the open door. The prisoner was eating as if he had not
seen food before in a long time.
“Go to it!” laughed Case. “You’re welcome. And, say, if you know
anything about electric stoves, you might warm up that coffee. Or
perhaps you can do it quicker on top of the coal stove, if the fire
hasn’t gone out.”
The headlight of the on-coming train was now in the pass, lighting the
rails until they glistened again, bringing the platform car and the boat
set rakishly upon it out in bold relief. And just in front of the
engine, running at full speed along the ends of the ties, was Clay. Alex
could be seen clinging to one of the cab steps with the fireman
threatening him with a shovel of coal.
Much to Case’s delight, the engine drew up in front of the sidetracked
car, and the conductor came running down from the caboose, swinging a
lantern in his hand. He threw a volley of ugly words at Alex and stepped
up to where Case stood, leaning over the railing of the _Rambler_.
“Does that kid belong with you?” he demanded, flinging his lantern out
in the direction of Alex. “He might have been killed, making a catch
like that. Where is the boss of this outfit?”
“We are all bosses,” replied Case, not at all pleased with the abrupt
manners of the conductor.
“Humph! A mess of boys! Well, get a move on, here, and let us hitch you
on. We’ve lost time enough now.”
“You needn’t lose any more on our account,” Case replied, provokingly.
“Get busy just as soon as you like. In other words, ‘Fire, Gridley, as
soon as you are ready,’” he added, with a grin, repeating the words of
Dewey at Manila bay.
“I’d like to have the firing of you!” exclaimed the exasperated
conductor. “Here, boys,” he added, addressing a group of men who came up
from the caboose, “get the jacks under the car and put in two new
wheels. We’ve got to haul her down to Donald.”
There was then a great flashing of lanterns, a clashing of tongues, and
a groaning of steel screws as the jacks lifted the rear end of the car
high in the air. Clay and Alex dived into the cabin to straighten out
possible entanglements there and were amazed at coming upon a slender
stranger busy at the pancake griddle. They both stopped in the middle of
the room, which was not a very large one, and looked the questions they
were too breathless to ask.
“I was told to warm up the coffee,” the boy said, “and I thought I’d
cook some more cakes. I’ve eaten all you cooked for supper, and all the
bacon, too. I was hungry.”
“I should say so,” Alex responded. “There was enough cakes for six
harvest hands.”
“I’m sorry,” the slender boy said, apologetically, “and I’ll make it
right.”
“Forget it!” cried Alex. “It is right now.”
Outside the trainmen were letting the axle, clothed with new wheels,
down on the track, which they did with a spiteful bump. For an instant
all three boys lost their footing and came together with a dash which
nearly threw them to the floor. The incident brought them closer
together, socially as well as physically, and they were making friends
fast when the car was hauled out on the main line.
“You’re a new one on me,” Alex was saying when the conductor gave the
signal and the train went rattling off toward the Pacific ocean.
When the car was well under way Clay and the others began asking
questions of each other and of the stranger, who seemed nervous and
anxious to get away—eager to leave the boat, yet longing to remain!
“Where did you come from?” asked Clay, after the boys were gathered
about the table for the delayed supper. “Queer thing, your lighting down
on us here, at the summit of the Rocky mountains. Do you belong to the
gang over there by the campfire?”
The lad gave a quick start of surprise and shook his head.
“When did you get here?” asked Alex. “Was it you prowling around the car
just after sunset?”
The boy nodded, but did not answer the first question by saying when he
had reached that locality.
“How did you get here?” put in Case. “I don’t think you’ve walked to the
great divide.”
“Why, I came on that train,” was the reply.
The stranger did not say which train, but the boys took it for granted
that he referred to the freight train which had been held up by the
boulder blocking the way.
“Why didn’t you go to the campfire instead of coming to the boat?” asked
Clay, suspiciously. “It was nearer to the fire, and you must have seen
it, for the train stopped near the ridge that leads to it.”
“I was over there,” replied the boy, hesitatingly, “but I didn’t like
the appearance of things, so I came on and happened on your car.”
“What is your notion of those men at the fire?” asked Clay.
“I think they may be outlaws.”
“Just what I think!” Alex shouted. “Clay thinks they are hunters, but
he’s weak-minded sometimes! What makes you think they are outlaws?” he
continued, determined to have his own impression of the men sustained by
an eye-witness.
“Because I heard some talk about fleeing from justice.”
“There!” cried Alex nudging Clay. “Now will you be good? I’m glad we got
out of that locality just as we did, for I believe some one saw me
taking a snapshot and followed us.”
“I think you are dreaming,” Clay laughed, but the stranger gave a
startled glance about and crouched closer in the corner where he sat.
The boys noted his shrinking attitude and looked at each other
significantly. Just why he should show terror at the mention of the men
in camp was a matter which they would, they thought, inquire into later.
“When you get done talking to each other,” Case put in, sourly, “you
might tell me something about the campfire and the men you took a
snapshot at and got chased for your pains.”
Then Clay told the story and Alex added amusing frills by telling how
Clay had tried to pull him back by the legs so he couldn’t take the
snapshots he wanted.
“But I got the pictures,” the boy laughed, “just the same—eight of them.
One of the fellows was continually throwing mountain grass or some other
light stuff on the fire, and it was as good as a flashlight.”
“Will you let me see the pictures?” asked the stranger, showing great
interest in the recital.
“You’ll have to wait until I get them in shape,” Alex laughed. “I don’t
propose to take chances by having them out now. Would you know the men
at the fire if you saw them again?”
“I’m not sure,” was the reply.
“What were you doing on the freight train?” asked Case, abruptly.
“Just stealing a ride,” was the slow, bashful reply.
“You got off here when it stopped?” asked Clay.
“It was still in motion when I got off.”
“Where did you come from—where is your home?”
This from Clay, who had been studying the boy’s face curiously for some
moments. “What city did you live in last?”
“Chicago,” was the hesitating reply.
“What’s your name?” asked Case, as Clay turned his face away with a
quiet smile. “Why don’t you open up and tell us all about yourself?”
“There is nothing to tell,” was the grave reply. “I’m just a boy tramp,
I guess. But I’d like to have you answer a question,” he added, with a
flush on his pale face. “I’d like to know if it was one of the men from
the campfire who followed you, or—or some one else.”
“Was there some one else in there?” asked Clay. “You said you went there
before you visited the _Rambler_. Do you think there were men there whom
we did not see at the fire?”
“I thought there were men near the campfire who did not belong there,”
was the reply. “They looked so fierce that I was afraid and ran away. I
thought, perhaps, that you might have been followed by one of the men I
saw hanging about there—not by one of the campers.”
“Another mystery!” laughed Alex. “On the trip to the Amazon we picked up
a mysterious boy, and here, presto! we have another. But this boy seems
to know what he’s talking about, and the other one didn’t. At least, he
wouldn’t let us know that he did for a long time. Whew! I’d have climbed
up a star beam if I’d ’a’ known there were two gangs in the rocks. One
was enough for me!”
The conductor now came climbing back over the train to the platform car,
swinging his lantern spitefully. Clay opened the cabin door and stood
waiting for him to come up, waiting with a sense of impending trouble.
The conductor leaped lightly to the deck of the boat from the platform
of the car and stood holding his lantern up on a level with his eyes in
order that he might see better. Clay switched on the prow light and
stood watching him alertly.
Presently the conductor, now reinforced by a husky brakeman, stepped
squarely in front of Clay and flashed a pair of angry eyes at him.
“Stand out of the way!” he commanded. “I want to look inside!”
Clay stood stupidly staring for a moment and then stepped out of the
doorway.