THE ATTACK ON THE STATION
"What time does the Thunderbolt go through?" asked Jack.
"Eight thirty-four she's due, but she's sometimes a few minutes late.
Then, at eight forty-two there's the second section of the Thunderbolt,
when there's one running--and there is to-night, and your train for
town gets in here at eight fifty-seven."
"What's the next station below this?"
"Conway. That's about eleven miles down the line, and away from the
city. 'Tisn't much more of a station than this. Just an operator who
doubles up on all the other jobs same way I do."
"I've got to go wash dishes and make up our packs," said Jack. "It's
eight o'clock now, and that doesn't leave so very much more time than
we need. I've got to put out the fire, too."
He went off with the dishes on which they had eaten their simple but
delicious supper, and left Hank Hudson to talk to Tom Binns and watch
his key, which might at any moment click out some important order that
would make the difference between safety and disaster for a train laden
with passengers.
The fire on which he had cooked their supper was still glowing in the
woods about a hundred yards from the railway tracks, and he hurried
toward it to extinguish it, in accordance with the strictest of all
Scout rules for camping. Fires left carelessly burning after a picnic
have caused many a terrible and disastrous forest fire, and it is the
duty of every Scout to make sure that he gives no chance for such a
result to follow any encampment in which he has had a part.
As he made his way toward the fire he thought once or twice that he
heard the sounds of a man or an animal moving through the woods, and
once, too, he thought he heard a hoarse and raucous laugh. But he
decided, after stopping to listen once or twice, that he had been
mistaken, and he laughed at himself when he was startled as he got near
the dancing shadows east by the dying fire, by what looked like the
shadows of three men.
There was no danger in the fire he had built as long as the wind held
steady, and he might have left it to burn itself out with little fear
of any adverse happening as a result. But that was not thorough, nor
was it the way of a Scout. A wind may shift at any moment, and a fire
that is perfectly safe with a northwest wind may be the means of
starting a conflagration no one can hope to check if the wind shifts
even a point or two.
So Jack put his fire out thoroughly, and made certain that no live
embers remained to start it up anew. Then he washed his dishes, and
made his way back toward Hank Hudson's cabin.
Inside the cabin, as he approached, he could hear slight sounds, and
then, insistent, compelling, the clatter of the telegraph key.
He stopped to listen a moment to its clicking, and then found, to his
surprise, that it was "H-K," the call for Haskell Crossing, that was
sounding.
"Why doesn't Hudson answer?" he asked himself.
Still the call sounded. There was a continued noise within the
station--someone was there, and it must, surely, be Hudson. He could
not fail to hear the chatter of his sounder, and yet he was ignoring
the steady call from his instrument--a call more than likely to be of
the last importance.
Jack, sure now that something must be wrong, did not rush hastily and
impulsively for the door of the cabin. Instead, he crept up quietly
toward the side, where there was a window, that would give him a chance
to look in without being seen himself.
And, when he got there, he saw what was wrong. Hudson, his face livid,
a red handkerchief stuffed into his mouth, was tied in a chair, his
arms, legs and body being securely tied up, so that there was no chance
for him to work himself free. He could hear what went on, but he could
do nothing, and there was no chance for him to reach that key and
answer the insistent urging of the wire, though Jack could see, from
the look in his eyes, that he knew an attempt was being made to raise
his office.
"They'll think he's deserted his key," said Jack to himself. "That's
what's worrying him."
Apparently Hudson was alone in the station, and Jack was just on the
point of rushing in to free the operator when the door into the freight
station opened, and three burly men, dressed like tramps, appeared,
dragging poor little Tom Binns with them, despite his twisted ankle.
Tom was trying to cry out and give the alarm, as Jack could see, but in
vain, for one of the ruffians had his hand over his mouth, and there
was no chance for Tom's cries to be heard.
Jack, horror struck, but, knowing that aid was far away, watched the
scene that followed with distended eyes. He was powerless against
three such men as the tramps that had attacked Hudson and Tom Binns,
and the nearest station, as he knew, was eleven miles distant. But he
felt that he must try to find out, at least, what the attack meant.
Hudson, as the assailants must know, had no money to make such an
attack worth while, and, even if they could blow or otherwise open the
little safe it was unlikely that more than a few dollars would be
there--a poor reward for such a desperate business.
Suddenly, however, a thought came to him that terrified him a thousand
times more than what he had already seen.
"The key!" he thought, almost shouting the words aloud and betraying
himself in his excitement. That was it! These men were train
robbers--or, worse, possibly, train wreckers. They would endanger
every life on the onrushing Thunderbolt to gain their ends. That was
why they had put Hank Hudson out of business, why they were guarding
Tom Binns with such care, crippled as he seemed to be. Men in their
desperate business could take no chances. It was all or nothing for
them--success, and the chance to rifle the registered mail and the
valuable express pouches, or failure and death on the gallows or a life
in prison.
For a moment Jack had the impulse to seek safety in flight. If they
caught him spying on them they were likely to have little mercy for
him, and well he knew it. But the impulse lasted scarcely a second.
"I guess if I'm ever to make good as a Scout, this is one of my
chances," he said to himself, grimly. "I'm going to stay right by this
window and try to hear what they say to one another. They may give
away their plans and give me some sort of a chance to foil them."
Jack was frightened, and he was brave enough to admit that to himself.
Even the river pirates that he and Pete Stubbs had helped to thwart
when they tried to steal the fittings from Mr. Simms' yacht were mild
mannered criminals compared to these. Each of them wore a black mask
that hid his eyes and the upper part of his face, but Jack, trying
desperately to discover something that would enable him to identify
them should he ever have the chance, picked out lines about the lower
parts of their faces that would, he thought, make it impossible for him
to mistake them should he ever have the chance to see them again. One
had a prominent, undershot jaw. Another bore a furrow across his chin,
the mark of a bullet, as Jack guessed, that was white against the
stubble of his beard. And another had lost part of his right ear,
which was not hidden by his mask.
"I'm really more certain of knowing them again now than if they hadn't
worn those masks," said Jack, to himself. "The masks made me look more
attentively at the part of each one's face that I could see."
"Hey, Tom," said one of the men, gruffly, looking at his watch, "got
them tied? I thought there was another one of the young rips."
"If there was, he ain't a comin' back here, or he'd have been here long
ago," said Tom, scowling fiercely at his two captives. "What's the
time, Bo?"
"Time enough. She ain't due for ten or twelve minutes yet, even if
she's on time. Wish't I could tell what that key was saying."
"Don't make no difference. It'll be saying a lot more when we get
through tonight," said the other.
All the time the monotonous calling of the key had kept up--"H-K--H-K."
Now suddenly there was a change. "B-D--B-D--" clicked the instrument,
and Jack knew that the sender had given up Haskell Crossing and was
trying now to raise Beaver Dam, the next station up toward the city.
Beaver Dam answered at once, and Jack listened intently to the wire
conversation that followed and was sounded by Hudson's open key.
"Hello, B-D," it called. "What's the matter with Hudson? I've been
trying to raise him for half an hour."
"I heard you. He must be asleep or sick--sick most likely."
"That's what I thought. There's a hand car with another operator
ordered down. But it'll have to run behind the Thunderbolt. She's an
hour late and trying to make up time."
"That's bad! It'll tie up the whole line."
"So long!"
"So long! I'll pass on word."
Jack's heart leaped within him. The train the robbers were waiting for
was an hour late. All sorts of things might happen in an hour. He
could only wait. But there was more chance now, at least.
The robbers waited patiently until the limited was twenty minutes
overdue. Then they began to get nervous.
"Sure the tie will throw her off the rails?" asked one.
"Go out and see for yourself if you're nervous."
And the first speaker followed the suggestion. The others fidgeted
about for a few minutes.
"Let's get out, then," said one of those who remained. "Those kids are
tied up safe enough. No need to stay here. Let's get some fresh air
and look to see if she's coming."
And in a moment the station was empty, save for the two prisoners.
Jack acted on the instant. In a second he was at the key, pounding
away, and calling B-D, B-D, in frantic efforts to get an answer and
have the limited stopped and help rushed.
"O-K--" came the answer at last, and in a frenzied rush, but with the
hand of an inexperienced operator, Jack sent the story over the wire.
He had won!
He was in time, he was sure. The train had not yet passed the last
telegraph station before Haskell Crossing, and it would be stopped
before it could rush on to destruction. Then, swiftly, he rushed over
to the chair in which Hudson was strapped, and quickly cut the ropes
that held the operator. As quickly he snatched the gag from his mouth.
"Gee, that was great!" cried Hudson. "I didn't know you knew how to
handle a key. You did fine!"
"I guess they got the message in time to stop the train. Don't you
think so?"
"Listen to it now."
The key was clicking away furiously. The sounds were so fast that
Jack, who was only an amateur and a beginner as a telegrapher, after
all, could not understand.
"Beaver Dam's sending the word along the line," said Hudson. "The
warning's been acknowledged and the train will be held up. They're
going to send help, too. I hope those fellows don't come back here too
soon. If they'll hold off a few minutes we'll be all right, thanks to
you."
"Haven't you got a gun, Hank?" asked Jack.
"Gee, what a fool I am! Of course I have! A peach, too. They gave us
new automatic revolvers--only they don't revolve--a few weeks ago.
I'll get it."
He was not a moment too soon. The steps of the train wreckers, as they
returned, were heard outside, and in a moment Jack disappeared again.
"I'll be outside," he called to Hudson, from the window.
"Pretend to be tied up still, and get them covered. Then try to hold
them in there with your pistol. Don't shoot unless you have to, but
remember that they're bad men, and don't hesitate to shoot if that's
the only thing you can do."
In another minute the three tramps were inside the little station
again. Hudson had thrown the ropes about his body again, and had
stuffed the handkerchief in his mouth. They gave him a hasty glance.
"There's something wrong, Tom," said one of them, anxiously. "That
train ought to have been here a good hour ago. Wonder if that clicking
key means that there's anything loose that we ought to know about. We
ought to have had someone along that knows how to read that thing."
"Throw up your hands!"
Jack exulted as he heard Hudson, in a firm, ringing voice, give the
order. The operator had nerve--they would catch the robbers in the
neatest sort of a trap.
He slipped around to the door.
There was a snarl of rage from one of the men, while the others stood
in helpless surprise. The one who had cried out rushed at Hudson, and
a bullet whizzed by his ear.
"Stop!" cried Hudson, savagely. "I'll shoot to hit you next time."
"He's got us--better keep quiet," exclaimed another of the men, with a
savage curse. "That's what we got for leaving them alone here."
Jack stepped into the station.
"Keep them covered, Hank," he said. "You forgot me, too, you see," he
said to the men. "Now, keep your hands up and you won't get hurt. You
won't need your pistols where you're going, so I'll just take them away
from you now."
He was as good as his word, searching them for their concealed weapons,
and putting all three of the pistols that he found in a heap beside
Hudson. Then he released Tom Binns, and in the same moment there was
the sound of a distant whistle. A few minutes later an engineer drew
up outside, drawing a single car, and from it a dozen armed men
streamed into the station, sent post haste from Beaver Dam.
"Good work, indeed!" said one man, who was the chief of the railroad
detective bureau, Captain Haskins, famed in a dozen states. "This is a
fine haul. Omaha Pete, Tom Galway, and 'Frisco Sammy. Glad to see
you, boys! There are rewards of about eleven thousand dollars for the
three of you. You'll be as welcome as the flowers that bloom in the
spring when the police get hold of you."
He was curious to know how the three boys, for Hank Hudson himself was
little more than a boy, had effected such a capture, and he was
unstinting in his praise when he heard the story. Hudson insisted on
giving Jack Danby most of the credit, but Jack wouldn't have it that
way.
"You did the trick with your gun," he said. "I may have given you the
chance and helped to save the train, but you were the one that caught
them."
"There's credit enough for both of you," said Haskins, kindly. "And
I'm here to see that you get what's coming to you, too, rewards and
all. The road can afford to be grateful to a boy who saved the
Thunderbolt from being wrecked."