ON THE HANDCAR
"Waterloo!" exclaimed Nap.
"There's a chance yet," Bunny urged. "Maybe she's just moving up to the
switch to get on another track."
"A fat chance!" said the cynical Specs. "That other track runs to New
York or San Francisco or somewhere. No, siree, that train isn't coming
back to Harrison City again to-day."
As the boys watched the fading black smoke, it grew more and more
evident that Specs was right. The train which was to have been their
salvation had gone without them.
Bunny shook his head stubbornly. "I don't know how we are going to get
there, but I mean to keep on trying. Nobody is licked till he gives up,
and we are a long way from giving up. Does anybody want to quit?"
The "no" that answered was not full-throated, but it satisfied the
patrol leader.
"All right, then; we'll take up the Scout's pace again till we reach
the station."
It was a few seconds past 10:49 when the boys crossed the tracks; it
still lacked a little of 10:50 when Bunny found the young man in charge
of the station puttering over a trunk in the baggage room.
"Oh, you're the one who telephoned about that train?" he said, smiling
pleasantly. "Well, she left ahead of time; there's no doubt about that.
I don't know why she did any more than you do. She came puffing in, and
Mr. Gillen--he's the station master here--hopped on board to speak to
the conductor, and the train carried him off, too. Never left before
like that, and I don't understand it. Nobody told me a word about it."
"Where's the next stop?"
"Wells Junction. That's just three miles away. They wait there till
11:05 to make connections with the B. & X."
"Three miles." Bunny did a little mental arithmetic. "Why, we could
catch it there, then, if we just had some way of getting there."
The young man became interested. "Did you say there were nine of you?
Well, here's a hand car that I was going to send up to the Junction
sometime this afternoon. It would be perfectly safe, because there
aren't any freights coming, and there isn't another passenger due till
midnight. Let's see. You want to go to Deerfield, where you take the
'bus for Belden. Now, you buy tickets for Deerfield, and I will let you
take the hand car. If you miss the train for any reason, you can turn
in your tickets and get your money back."
To Bunny, it seemed altogether too good to be true; but there was no
time to waste rejoicing over the news.
"All right," commented Bi a little heavily, "but I never thought I
should have to pay for my own ticket. Still, of course, there's no way
out of it."
It required the greater portion of the Scouts' ready cash to pay for
the thirty-eight-mile trip to Deerfield. Roundy had disappeared, so his
ticket had to be purchased out of the common fund; but they had barely
worked the hand car to the main track before he hove in sight, his arms
full of sandwiches and boxes of crackers.
"Getting along toward dinner time," he explained, "and nobody knows
when we'll get anything to eat, if we don't stock up when we have the
chance."
The young man at the station gave them a parting word of advice. "You
may think the hand car works hard at first, but after you get going it
will pretty nearly run itself. Don't waste any time, but roll 'er along
as fast as you can. Turn it over to the agent at the Junction and tell
him that Jensen sent you. By-by!"
The young man was right. The hand car did run loggily at first; but
with four hardy Scouts on each handlebar, it slowly gained headway.
"It's not exactly an automobile," said Specs, between strokes, "but it
goes."
"You can't puncture the tires, either," added Jump.
"Somebody punctured this right forward one," suggested S. S., as by
jolt and jar the wheel proved that it was no longer as round as it had
been.
Nap had the solution. "Keep your eyes open, Mr. Sherlock Holmes
Bonfire, and when you see a 'Free Air' sign we'll stop."
For the first time since the fire, the Black Eagles were actually
growing cheerful. They seemed no longer chasing a will-o'-the-wisp
hope; at last, they were substantially on their way to victory. The
handles fairly flew.
"I guess old Professor Leland will be glad to see us," chuckled Roundy.
"And I guess the Belden team won't like it so well," observed Specs.
"And that party they are going to give us after the game," Bi said,
smacking his lips. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."
They spun along up a little grade, through a deep cut, and out upon a
high trestle.
"If we were inside the car of a train," Bunny said, "we wouldn't notice
a little thing like this." He looked down at a cottage nestling upon
the slope below. "I hope there's somebody there with a blanket to catch
us if we go over the edge."
"Somebody on the path at this side," called Bonfire. "It's a railroad
man, too."
"How do you know? Is he wearing overalls and carrying an oil can?"
[Illustration: Above the clatter-clatter of the hand car, a voice
shouted from below. _Page 207._]
"No, he has on a blue uniform. Might be a conductor; or he may work
around a station, or--"
Raspingly and distinctly above the clatter-clatter of the hand car, a
voice shouted from below.
"Stop!"
"He's calling to us."
"Let him call. Maybe he's just making a speech to the trestle." Thus
Specs.
"Stop that hand car!"
They had already spanned the tiny bridge and were upon the solid track
beyond. Just ahead, the rails curved around a steep bank.
"Let him yell," said Bi defiantly. "He hasn't any way of stopping us,
has he? Probably thinks we are stealing this old pushcart. Well, we
aren't."
"What's he got to do with it, anyhow?" spluttered Nap, plunging harder
than ever on the handle. "We had permission to do this, and we're going
to do it, Mr. Blue Uniform or not."
It was Bunny who settled the matter. Throwing his weight on the bar as
it came up, and holding it back as it swung down, he issued his orders
as patrol leader. "Everybody hold fast. We're going to stop and find
out what he wants."
There was a grunt of indignant protest from Specs, but the others
obeyed first and talked afterwards.
"Look here, Bunny," Bi objected, as the car slowed down, "you are
running this party and I'm not; so what you say goes. But I don't see
any use of stopping. We aren't doing anything wrong. We've been given
permission to operate the car. He hasn't any right to tell us we can't,
and if he tells us we can--why, we know that already. There he comes
now up over the bank. I say, start up again and explain when we get to
Wells Junction."
Specs chimed in. "We're not going anywhere on our own account; we're
going to play baseball for the school. All we're doing by stopping now
is asking for trouble."
The wheels ground to a dead center.
Bunny's lips were set. "I know how you feel. I feel that way myself.
But I know we can't do that sort of thing. This man isn't a section
hand: he's wearing a uniform; he has a cap; it looks as if he had some
right to tell us to stop. I'll put it up to him just as strong as I
can, and he may let us go on. If he won't--"
The man was within fifty yards of them, running at a clumsy gait up the
track. Though puffing and out of wind, he did his best to shout.
"Take--that--hand car--off the--track!"
"Like fun we will!" muttered Specs.
The man came on, repeating his command. "Take it off--yank it
off--right away!"
Bunny stiffened. "I don't think you understand--"
"You young rascals stole this car. Yes, you did. You can't tell me any
different." He was with them now; he placed protecting hands on the
property of the R. A. & S. Railroad. "If you don't yank it off the
track, right on the dot, I'll--"
Bunny's eyes narrowed. His hands, quite without any effort on his part,
became fists. But he kept his voice level, though it had what Specs
called later "a sort of grindstone sound."
"We are Boy Scouts," explained Bunny, "and we have been given
permission to use the car. We stopped because we thought you had the
right to tell us to stop; not because we are afraid of you. We are
going to Wells Junction, and if you have nothing better to do than call
us names, Mister, we'll keep right on going there."
When they talked it over afterward, everybody but Specs agreed that
the man changed his style of remarks, not because he was afraid, but
because he had begun to understand. However this might be, his next
speech was much milder.
"Permission or not, you will have to yank this car off the track; we
can talk about it later."
"But why?"
"Why! Because, if you don't, you're going to be smashed into a million
pieces. There is a big special coming through any minute. It's on its
way. Now, get that hand car off where it won't be responsible for an
accident."
Though not trained section hands, the Black Eagles came near making a
record in tipping, levering and hoisting the unwieldy hand car to a
safe place along the right of way. Once it was safely there, the man
in uniform seated himself on it and wiped his forehead.
"I haven't had such a turn since the bad wreck in '96. Why, when I saw
you boys going lickety-split along the track, I was ready to curl up
and quit. How did you happen to have the car, anyhow?"
As rapidly as possible, Bunny told him the story of the morning's
adventures, including the acquisition of the hand car.
"So Jensen said that, did he? Well, he has been working there about a
week, and what he doesn't know about railroading would fill a library.
Letting a lot of boys come up the track in a hand car! I never heard of
such a thing."
"Is your name Gillen?" asked Bonfire suddenly.
"My name's Gillen. I am the station master at Harrison City. I am
responsible for whatever happens around here. There was something
the matter with the wires this morning, and the last half-hour every
message we received was chopped up like so much sausage. We did not
get a word about the special. I hopped on the 11:50--it rolled in at
11:48--to find out what they knew, and they carried me right along.
They had orders to run right through to Wells Junction unless they had
passengers waiting. They dropped me here at the trestle, and I had just
telephoned Jensen about it when I heard you coming. Since I stopped
that hand car, I feel about ten years younger."
The minutes were ticking away, but there was nothing to be done. With
the news of the special on its way, it was plain that any thought of
going ahead must be put aside until they could count on a clear track.
Already a mile had been covered, but the remaining distance was too
great to walk in the limited time left them. No, there was nothing to
do but wait.
Mr. Gillen went to the house below, to finish his talk over the
telephone with Jensen, while the boys fumed to no purpose. It was after
eleven o'clock when he returned, and it was almost five minutes later
when the special, with its private car, rumbled by with a swish of dust
and cinders.
"I am sorry, boys," said the station master, "but it is against the
rules of the road to allow any outsider to take chances like those you
were taking. If the special had come nine minutes ago, I should have
gone on with you myself; but it's too late now even for that."
Bunny looked at his watch. At that very moment, the train which
they had tried so desperately to catch must be pulling out of Wells
Junction. They had lost their last chance of continuing their trip to
Belden in one of its coaches.