THE CONSPIRACY ON THE BRIDGE
Kipps appeared to be a good-natured man, and Deck declined to take a
seat on the bench with him simply because it would place him where he
could not see the signal when his father made it. The man did not seem
to be so intent upon driving in the heads of the spikes in the planks as
he had been, and perhaps he thought he had worked hard enough to entitle
him to a rest.
"Jest come and take a seat here, Deck Lyons; you look all worn out, and
you need a little rest," said Kipps, as Deck placed himself at the end
of the fence.
"I'm not all worn out, and I think I can stand it to keep on my feet a
while longer," replied the signalman.
"Well, you must git tired luggin' them things round all day," persisted
the mechanic.
"What things?"
"Why, that shooter on your back, and that broadsword a-danglin' agin
your shins."
"They are not very heavy, and not so much of a load as your
sledge-hammer and adze."
"I'm used to kerryin' them; but I'll bet a day's pay that gun on your
back is heavier'n my hammer."
"I don't bet, but my carbine is lighter than your sledge," replied Deck;
and it seemed to him as though the workman was trying to accomplish some
object, though he could not make out what it was. "Besides, I don't have
to lug my arms without any help, for I am generally on horse-back."
"Have you seen Tom Lobkill about here in your travels on this bridge?"
asked Kipps, suddenly changing the subject of the conversation.
"I don't happen to know Tom Lobkill, and I don't know whether I have
seen him or not."
"Don't you know Tom Lobkill? I thought every man in Tennessee knew Tom."
"That may be; but as I never put foot in Tennessee yet, I never happened
to meet him," replied Deck.
"I reckon this is Kentucky," added Kipps, with a mild horse-laugh. "You
see, we fellers that work on the railroad don't allers mind jest what
State we're in, for we keep shiftin' from one to another all the time."
"But I think you don't have to do much shifting between Kentucky and
Tennessee at the present time," suggested Deck.
"Not as much as we did a while ago. If you hain't seen Tom Lobkill, did
you come across Lank Rablan in your travels on the road?" asked Kipps,
as he rose from his seat, and walked to the end of the fence, though he
still remained behind it.
"I don't know him any better than I do the other fellow, and I haven't
seen him. You seem to have a good many friends about here, Brown Kipps."
"Not a great crowd; there ain't but four on us, and t'other is Sykes
Wimble. I s'pose you hain't seen nothin' o' him, nuther?"
"I don't know him," replied Deck, more curious yet to know what the man
was driving at. "What are you four doing about here?"
"We are on the railroad."
"So I supposed; and I suppose one of you is the president of the
company, and perhaps the other three are the vice-presidents," said the
cavalryman, quite as good-natured as his companion.
"Well, no, not exactly; I ought to be the president of the company, but
I ain't," answered Mr. Kipps. "If I was, some of us bridgemen would get
better pay, and a chance to sleep nights some o' the time."
"Then you are bridgemen; and I saw you knocking in the heads of the
spikes over there. I suppose you were sent down here to rebuild this
bridge if the enemy destroyed it."
"That's jest what we are here for; but I don't reckon the enemy'll
destroy it this time."
"I should say not."
"But I was lookin' for my gang-mates, and I don't see what's become on
'em;" and Kipps looked about him as though he really wished to find
them. "I had to go down below to git a hunk o' t'backer out'n the wagon,
and the t'other three went down this way;" and the bridgeman produced a
great twist of the native weed, and bit off enough to load two pipes. "I
reckon you hain't seen nothin' on 'em, hev yon, Deck Lyons? I reckoned
they went over the creek."
"I have not seen any of them, and no one has crossed the bridge since I
came upon it," replied Deck.
"I rather think I can fetch 'em if they are anywhere round here," added
Kipps, as he took a whistle from his pocket and applied it to his lips,
producing three short blasts. "All on us carries one o' these, because
we sometimes get scattered on the work."
The whistle seemed to be as potent as that of the boatswain on board of
a man-of-war, for one after another three men mounted to the bridge just
beyond the abutment on the farther side. Each of them had a pipe in his
mouth, and they came upon the track as though they were in no hurry.
They were dressed like Kipps, in workingmen's clothes, and one of them
was about six feet and a half high. All of them had axes in their hands,
but none of them seemed to be provided with firearms.
"They weren't fur off, and they kept awful still, or I should have hearn
them," said Kipps, as they crossed the track and placed themselves
behind the fence.
Deck wondered how they had secured a place down the embankment without
being seen by him; but his attention had been directed the other way to
the position of the squadron. But he realized that they could have
crossed the track some distance farther up the road, and walked down
from there under the shadow of the road-bed.
"Well, boys, I reckoned you'd got lost, for I couldn't find nothin' on
you," said Kipps, as the men approached the end of the fence at which
Deck stood. "What you been doin', Lank Rablan?"
"When you went down to the wagon, we uns dropped down the bank to have a
smoke, and we got to talkin' about this business round here," replied
the tallest of the three, who was about as lofty in his upper works as
Life Knox, and about as spare in his filling up. "We consayted that this
bridge was go'n' to get burnt up last night; but it's all here yet, and
I reckon them so'diers down thar's done a big thing."
"We hain't got no job on our hands for to-day," said another of them.
"What was it that the nigger told you, Sykes Wimple?" asked Lank Rablan,
who was the tall fellow.
"He told me the troopers had captured the whole company sent here to
destroy the bridge; and there they be down there, guarded by the horse
soldiers," replied Sykes, pointing in the direction of the camp. "I
suppose this fellow is one of them," he added, pointing to Deck.
"I am one of them," replied the signalman.
"What company do you belong to?" asked Lank.
"To the Riverlawn Cavalry."
"You hain't had no fightin', I reckon."
"Yes, we have; the second company defeated the force that came here at
daylight this morning, and captured the whole of them. The same company
had a brush with the Texan Rangers, and they all took to the woods,
except those that were killed or badly wounded. The hospital over there
is full of them. If you stay on this bridge long enough, you will see
more fighting over on the south road."
The bridgemen looked at each other, and said nothing for a few moments.
Deck began to feel as though he was neglecting his duty; for he had been
giving his whole attention to the talk of the men, with only an
occasional glance at the troopers below. He looked again, and for the
moment he did not see the plume of his father. He had changed his
position, though it was not likely that he had gone far, and he began a
search for him with his eyes. He did not discover the major at once; for
he had moved a short distance up the south road, to give his orders to
Captain Gordon.
While he was continuing his search, he was suddenly and violently drawn
backwards behind the fence. If the bridgemen did not talk together in
words they did by their looks. If any one had been regarding the scene
described, it would have been sufficiently evident to him by this time
that the bridgemen were engaged in a conspiracy, the first act of which
was to secure the person of the Union soldier who had been posted at the
flagstaff. But there was no one to observe what transpired on the
bridge.
At a nod from Brown Kipps, Lank Rablan sprang lightly forward; and,
seizing hold of the carbine which was slung on his back, he dragged him
into the shadow of the fence in the twinkling of an eye. As soon as Lank
had drawn him within reach of the others, they all laid hold of him.
Deck struggled with all his might, and struck out right and left with
his fists till his hands were secured, each by a man, while the other
two held his body. The tussle was quickly finished, for the young
soldier could do nothing against four full-grown mechanics.
Of course Deck realized that he was the victim of a plot prepared while
none of the operators were in sight. His first feeling was one of
humiliation that he had allowed himself to be captured at his post, or
so near it. He blamed himself for leaving the flagstaff; but probably
the result would have been the same if he had not left it, for a
distance of fifty feet would not have prevented the conspirators from
securing him where he was.
The four ruffians who had carried out their plan appeared to be what
they claimed; bridgemen, for they were all provided with the tools that
are used in such work. But it was evident to him when the question came
to his mind, that they were not Union men, and could not be in the
employ of the railroad company, which was now a loyal institution, after
a violent discussion with its Tennessee stockholders.
"Don't kick, my little man," said Kipps, who appeared to be the foreman
of the gang, whatever they were. "It won't do no good."
Deck was painfully conscious of what the leader said; for the others had
taken his carbine and sabre away from him, and laid them on the bench.
With the slings of his firearm they were securing his arms behind him,
while Lank Rablan held him by the collar of his jacket. It occurred to
him then that the ruffians had not taken his small revolver from him,
and had not even discovered that he had one; but it might as well have
been at the bottom of the creek so far as being of any service to him in
that important moment, for his hands were both in possession of the
enemy.
He had kicked with his long boots, and endeavored to bring his spurs to
bear upon the shins of his antagonists; but Kipps had strapped his sabre
belt around his ankles, thus depriving him of his only remaining natural
means of defence. While they were securing his arms behind him, which
their evidently intended to do with the greatest care, he was faced to
the position of his company. Then it occurred to him that he had one
resource left. His voice could not be tied up like his legs and arms,
and he could use that if nothing else.
"Help! Help! Help!" he shouted at the top of his lungs three times.
"Below, there! Sentinels! I am"--
This was as far as he was permitted to proceed; for Kipps caught his
handkerchief from the opening of his jacket, and stuffed it into his
mouth. If any of the sentinels around the prisoners' camp heard him,
they could make nothing of the cries. If they looked about them, they
could see nothing on the surface of the bridge, even if the shouts had
not come from behind the fence.
"No use, my little beauty!" exclaimed Kipps, as the two men completed
the operation of strapping his arms behind him. "They can't hear you
down below, and you only worry yourself, without doin' a bit of good.
Now be a Christian, and keep quiet like a little lamb, as you are. We
are going to be busy now for a little spell, and we shall have to fasten
you to the bench. Be easy, and amuse yourself the best way you can. You
can whistle 'Yankee Doodle' if you like, and I reckon you can do it
better than I did."
It was no use to say anything, or to attempt to do anything. He was
tied to the bench, facing the track; and Kipps was considerate enough to
take the handkerchief from his mouth, and return it to the inside of his
jacket. The other three men had already hastened over to the place where
they had come upon the bridge, and disappeared. The foreman took his
carbine from the bench, and started to follow the others.
"It would break my heart, my pretty dove, to have to shoot you with your
own piece; but if you make a row, I shall have to do it. If you keep
quiet we won't hurt you."
Saying this, Kipps left him.