STOP THIEF!
As Train Number 29 dashed up to the Millbank station and was brought to a
stop almost as suddenly as a spirited horse is reined back on his haunches
by a curb bit, the many flashing lanterns guarding all approaches, and the
confused throng of dark forms on its platform told that Brakeman Tom had
performed his duty and that its arrival was anticipated.
The abruptness of this unexpected stop caused the messengers in the
several cars to open their doors and look out inquiringly. At the same
time, and even before it was safe to do so, Conductor Tobin and Rod
dropped to the ground and ran to the door of the money car. The glare of
firelight streaming from it attracted others to the same spot. There were
loud cries for buckets and water, and almost before the car wheels ceased
to slide on the polished rails a score of willing hands were drenching
out the fire of way-bills, other papers, and a broken chair that was
blazing merrily in the middle of its floor. The flames were already
licking the interior woodwork, and but for this opportune stop would have
gathered such headway inside of another minute as would not only have
destroyed the car but probably the entire train.
The moment the subsiding flames rendered such a thing possible, a rush was
made for the inside of the car, but Conductor Tobin calling one of the
express messengers and the engineman who had come running back, to aid
him, and telling Rod to guard the door, sternly ordered the crowd to keep
out until he had made an examination. From his post at the doorway Rod
could look in at a sight that filled him with horror. The interior of the
car was spattered with blood. On the floor, half hidden beneath a pile of
packages, lay the messenger, still alive but unconscious and bleeding from
half a dozen wounds. The brave right hand that had tried to pull the
bell cord had been shattered by a pistol ball, and the messenger's own
Winchester lay on the floor beside him. Broken packages that had contained
money, jewelry, and other valuables were scattered in every direction,
while the open safe from which they had come was as empty as the day it
was made.
The trainmen became furious as one after another of these mute witnesses
told of the outrages so recently perpetrated, and swore vengeance on the
robber when they should catch him. They ransacked every corner of the car,
but search as they might they could discover no trace of his presence nor
of the method of his flight. The man had left the car as he had entered it
taking the precaution of removing his rope ladder as he went.
The baffled searchers had just reached the conclusion that he must have
leaped from the train in spite of its speed and of Conductor Tobin's
watchfulness, when Rod, who from his position in the doorway could look
over the heads of the crowd surrounding the car called out:
"Stop that man! The one with a leather bag slung over his shoulder! Stop
him! Stop thief! He is the robber!"
In the glare of an electric light that happened to shine full upon him for
a moment, Rod had seen the man walk away from the forward end of the car
next ahead of the one they were searching as though he had just left it.
He was not noticed by the bystanders as all eyes were directed toward the
door of the money car. To the young brakeman his figure and the stout
leather bag that he carried seemed familiar. As he looked, the man raised
a kid-gloved hand to shift the position of his satchel, and from it shot
the momentary flash of a diamond. With Rod this was enough to at once
establish the man's identity. Although he no longer wore smoked glasses
Rod knew him to be the man who, pretending partial blindness, had first
boarded the Express Special, then taken passage on the "Limited," and whom
he had seen on the platform of the last station at which they had stopped.
How could he have reached Millbank? He must have come by the Express
Special, and so must be connected with its robbery.
All these thoughts darted through Rod's head like a flash of lightning,
and as he uttered his shouts of warning he sprang to the ground with a
vague idea of preventing the stranger's escape. At the same moment the
crowd surged back upon him, and when he finally cleared himself from it he
saw the man backing down the platform, holding his would-be pursuers in
check with a levelled pistol, and just disappearing from the circle of
electric light.
A minute later two frightened men were driven at the point of a revolver
from the cab of a freight locomotive that, under a full head of steam,
was standing on the outer one of the two west-bound tracks. They had
hardly left it in sole charge of the robber, by whom it had already been
uncoupled from its train, before it sprang forward and began to move away
through the darkness.
Rod, who was now well in advance of all other pursuers, instantly
comprehended the situation. His own train stood on the inner west-bound
track and he was near its forward end. The robber with his blood-stained
plunder was disappearing before his very eyes, and if lost to view might
easily run on for a few miles and then make good his escape. He must not
be allowed to do so! He must be kept in sight!
This was Rod's all-absorbing thought at the moment. Moved by it, he jerked
out the coupling-pin, by which the locomotive of the Express Special was
attached to its train, leaped into the cab, threw over the lever, pulled
open the throttle, and had started on one of the most thrilling races
recorded in the annals of railroading, before the astonished fireman, who
had been left in charge, found time to remonstrate.
"Look here, young fellow! what are you about?" he shouted, stepping
threateningly toward Rod.
"We are about chasing the train robber, who has just gone off with that
engine on number four track, and you want to keep up the best head of
steam you know how," was the answer.
"Have we any orders to do so?"
"You have, at any rate, for I give them to you."
"And who are you? I never saw you before to-night."
"I am Rod Blake, one of Tobin's trainmen, and if you don't quit bothering
me with your stupidity and go to work, I'll pitch you out of this cab!"
shouted Rod savagely, in a tone that betrayed the intensity of his nervous
excitement.
The man had heard of the young brakeman and of his skill as a boxer,
though he had never met him before that night, and his half-formed
intention of compelling the lad to turn back was decidedly weakened by
the mention of his name. Still he hesitated. He was a powerful fellow with
whom in a struggle Rod could not have held his own for a minute, but he
was clearly lacking in what railroad men call "sand." Suddenly Rod made a
movement as though to spring at him, at the same time shouting, "Do as I
tell you, sir, and get to work at once!"