There was no need for the conductor to hold his lantern aloft now, so he
set it down on the deck and glared into the cabin. The husky brakeman
crowded close to him, peering into the interior over his broad shoulder,
a cynical smile on his grimy face.
The conductor seemed disappointed at the result of his inspection of the
cabin. He gave a grunt and a shrug of the shoulders and turned to Clay,
who stood watching him with apprehension in his eyes.
“Where are the others?” he demanded, in an accusing tone of voice.
“We are all here,” replied Clay, doing his best to keep control of his
temper, for the manner of the railroad official was insulting.
“Only four?” the surly conductor asked, still looking suspiciously
around. “These four belong on the boat, do they?”
The strange boy seemed to shiver with cold or fear. But the door of the
cabin was open, and the wind sweeping over the moving train was cold and
piercing. In a moment the boy turned his face away.
“All belong here—now,” replied Clay, motioning for Case, who had an
angry answer on his lips, to remain silent. “We all belong.”
“Where are the men who got on at the pass?” was the next question.
“This boy got on there,” answered Clay. “He needed rest and food, and we
took him in. If any one else got on the train at the pass they are not
in the boat—have no right here.”
“Humph!” growled the conductor. “This brakeman says he saw two
rough-looking men swing on the train as it got under way and move back
toward the platform car. Your bill calls for only three passengers to go
with the boat, and I’m not going to have a gang of toughs loaded onto
me. There’s been too many holdups in this section now.”
“We are going to Donald,” Clay replied, still keeping control of his
rather unruly temper, “and we’ll pay the boy’s fare to that point, if
you think we ought to. We are not trying to sneak an extra passenger in
on you. The coming of the boy was accidental, as you have been told.”
“I didn’t come here to collect fares,” shouted the conductor. “I came
back here to spot a couple of bruisers who headed for this car. If I
find them they’ll hit the grit mighty sudden. Understand that?”
“Go as far as you like,” Clay smiled. “We have no interest in any men
who might have taken your train at the pass. Shall I pay for the boy’s
ride to Donald?” he added, putting his hand into a pocket.
“I’ll take the money for his fare, but I’ll throw the others off, just
the same,” exclaimed the conductor. “I believe you know where the others
are, and my advice to you is to point them out to me.”
“Why are you so particular about finding them in this car?” asked Clay,
smoothly, for he knew that the railroad official could make them no end
of trouble if he saw fit to do so. “Have you looked through the entire
train? Are there no other hiding-places to look over?”
“There was an obstruction placed on the track at the pass,” the
conductor said, then, in a more conciliatory tone, “and the men who got
on my train and started back toward this car are the ones who did it. It
is ten to one that they are up to further mischief.”
“But you were going to throw them off,” suggested Clay.
“That was a bluff,” admitted the other. “I thought you might offer to
pay their fare, as you did the boy’s. They will go down in irons if I
find them.”
“I see,” Clay rejoined. “Well, I think you are next to your job, and I’m
sorry I can’t help you. I don’t know why the men you speak of should
seek refuge in this car, but what you say about their starting back here
is probably true. If I see anything of them I’ll let you know. By the
way,” he added, “we have some fine coffee, piping hot. Wouldn’t you
gentlemen like a cup?”
Case made a sly face at the word “gentlemen,” and Captain Joe arose from
his rug under one of the shelf-benches and snarled at the heavy shoes of
the trainmen. Alex covered his mouth with one hand to check an outburst
of laughter. The conductor stared at the boy and kicked at the dog, as
if sensing ridicule, but addressed his conversation to Clay.
“Why, yes,” he said, taking in the fragrant odor of the coffee, “a cup
of something hot wouldn’t come amiss. We are having coffee in the
caboose right soon, but it is a cold night up here.”
“You’ll be welcome,” Clay answered, “and there are pancakes, too, if you
like them. The boys can make some in a minute.”
The trainmen drank two cups of coffee each and greedily devoured a dozen
pancakes, which Alex hastened to make. Alex was wishing that the coffee
would scorch their throats!
The meal over, the conductor’s face took on a friendlier look.
“At Calgary,” he said, “we were ordered to load on jacks and extra
wheels and pick you up here. News of the breakdown came there by wire
just before we started out. At Laggan there was a message waiting for us
saying that an attempt had been made to wreck a freight here. The crew
had telegraphed from Field, just west of here.
“Well, I naturally got the idea into my head that the breakdown here—or
back at the pass, rather—was just a plant, so I was suspicious when I
came up. I was told in the message received at Laggan to keep my eyes
open for the wreckers, and that is why I was so short with you.”
“You acted just as I should under the circumstances,” Clay hastened to
say, seeing that the conductor was inclined to be friendly and wishing
to remain in his good graces. “Now, what shall I pay you for the extra
fare to Donald? We don’t want to beat the road out of a cent.”
“The coffee pays for that,” smiled the conductor.
“Let us know if you find the men who jumped the train at the pass,” Clay
then said. “This boy thinks there are two groups of men back there, at
the pass, you know, and is inclined, from appearances, to be afraid of
one of them.”
The stranger turned frightened eyes toward Clay for only an instant and
then faced away again. The conductor saw the look and asked:
“What is this lad’s name, and where does he come from?”
“Comes from Chicago,” answered Clay. “We haven’t learned his name as
yet. We have been together only a short time, you know.”
“What is it, boy?” asked the trainman, not at all unkindly. “We are
sometimes asked to look out for kids who have run away from home to see
the world,” he added, turning to Clay, “and so I’ll just make a note of
this one’s name and address. Likely looking lad, eh?” he added.
“My name is Granville,” the boy answered, “Chester W. Granville, and I
lived in Chicago, in Peck court.”
“Humph,” the conductor remarked. “Not a very aristocratic place.”
“No, sir,” responded the boy, turning away again. “Ever frequent the
South Branch?” asked Clay, with a quiet smile.
“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “I often went over there, for I like to see
ships and tugs and launches moving about in the water.”
“And motor boats?” asked Clay, with another quiet smile.
“Of course,” was the reply. “Motor boats best of all.”
The conductor wrote down the name and address in a notebook and got to
his feet. Alex punched Case in the ribs and whispered in his ear:
“Funny name and address, I don’t think!”
“Perhaps,” Case whispered back, “but I’ll bet the lad is all right.
Anyway, I’ve heard that a lie is only a misstatement of fact to a person
entitled to know the truth, and his name and address is no business of
the conductor’s. I think the con. is just butting in on us to see what
he can find out. I don’t believe there are any such men as he describes
on board—if there are, they never got on at the pass.”
“Well, we’ve got another mystery with us!” grinned Alex as the trainmen
left, swinging lanterns to light the way. “A strange maverick of a boy
and two fierce-looking men! We’re getting all there is in this drama,
all right—red fire and all! If the Columbia river trip makes good with
the overland journey, we’re in for excitement—and then some. Say, Clay,”
he continued, “why did you ask Mr. Chester W. Granville if he ever
visited the South Branch in Chicago?” with a wink at the boy.
“Why,” Clay answered, “it seemed to me that I had seen him somewhere
before, when I entered the cabin and found him making pancakes. I had an
idea, when he said that he lived in Chicago, that I might have seen him
there, but the impression is an indistinct one. It seems to be connected
with some other matter which I cannot now bring to mind.”
“He ought to remember if he ever saw you before,” suggested Alex.
The boy said nothing, and Case and Clay prepared their bunks for a short
sleep. They would reach Donald before daylight, and so would have only a
short period of rest. The train was running fast over a roadbed none too
smooth, but that did not for a second keep them awake.
Alex and Gran, as the new member of the party was known from that night,
sat in the cabin and compared notes regarding life in Chicago for a
short time, and then Gran fell asleep on his bench and Alex went to the
prow of the _Rambler_, now bobbing about under the motion of the train
as if it had come back to its own in some wild river, and looked out on
the swaying coaches ahead. The moon had arisen, and there was plenty of
light at intervals, although the sky was still flecked with clouds.
Field was soon passed, and then the milder grade down to the valley of
the Columbia river began. The scene was such as the boy had long hoped
some day to see. The snow-capped peaks, the silver of the moonlight on
the lower crags, the heavy shadows of the canyons, the long lines of
steel binding together the Atlantic and the Pacific! He had heard many
tales of daring robberies and bloody feud encounters in that vicinity,
and looked upon every crag and canyon as the possible scene of an outlaw
gathering.
Presently he saw a figure running toward him along the tops of the box
cars. Now it stooped low, as if fearful of being seen, now it lifted to
full height and leaped from roof to roof. When it came nearer the boy
saw that it was not the conductor or the brakeman who had visited the
cabin some time before.
This was a larger man than either of the trainmen he had seen. The
shoulders were broad, denoting great physical strength, and the height
was not less than six foot three. Another peculiarity the boy noticed.
The arms were unusually long, even for so tall a man. As they swayed
away from the body with the motion of the train he saw that the fingers
dropped almost to the knees.
The face the boy could not see distinctly. It was covered with a great
beard and shaded by the brim of a cowboy hat. Directly another figure,
carrying a lantern, appeared on the top of the train. Alex heard a
shout, and then a pistol shot. The tall man in advance halted, limped
over to the side of the car, swung down a ladder and disappeared from
sight.
The second figure came running up to the car attached to the one on
which the _Rambler_ lay and shouted across to the boy:
“Where did he go?”
There was much noise and the wind was blowing against his voice, so Alex
could not make the other understand that the fugitive had gone down the
side ladder except by pointing. The whole scene had seemed so unreal to
the boy that he half expected to see the tall man bob up in the
moonlight from some dark canyon and continue his frantic flight over the
swaying coaches.
“Guess I got him!” shouted the other, lowering his lantern. “Here’s
blood on the roof. There were two of them, and both got away.”
Alex remembered the conductor’s story of the men who had swung on at the
pass, and was not altogether displeased at the thought that they had
been chased off the train. In the tall figure which had swayed toward
him for a time and then almost dropped, bleeding, from the car top, he
thought he had recognized the figure which had pursued him around the
angle of rock where the pictures had been taken. Feeling safer, he went
to sleep, and when he awoke the car was being detached from the train at
Donald.