AN UNWELCOME GUEST
"Dan Nolan's loose," repeated Jack, as though his companion had not
heard, and then walked on in silence.
Allan's heart gave a sickening leap--not in the least of fear, for he
had never been afraid of Nolan, but of anxiety for the property of the
company. He knew Nolan's revengeful and vindictive nature; he knew that
he would never rest content until he had avenged himself upon the company
for sending him to the penitentiary. For himself he did not fear; Nolan,
who was a coward at heart, a lazy, overgrown bully, had never dared
attack him openly. He recalled how the thought of Nolan had oppressed him
that morning. There was something prophetic in it!
"But I don't understand," he said, at last. "I thought Nolan had been
sent to the penitentiary for three years."
"So he was," growled Jack, "an' he'd got a stiffer dose than that if he
hadn't been the coward an' traitor he was. You know he turned State's
evidence an' testified agin his pals, an' so managed t' git hisself off
with three year, while all th' others got ten. I'd hate t' be in Nolan's
shoes when they _do_ git out. They'll certainly never rest till they git
even with him."
"But how did he get out?" asked Allan, again. "He hasn't been in the
penitentiary more than six months."
"Only five months," corrected Jack, grimly. "Purty justice I call that!
It's enough t' disgust an honest man! What's th' use o' being honest,
anyway, if that's all they do to a dirty scoundrel like Dan Nolan? No
wonder they's lynchin' parties every now an' then!"
"Jack," laughed Allan, "you don't believe a word you're saying, and you
know it!"
"Well, anyway," said Jack, "it makes me fair sick at heart t' think of
it! Here's this cowardly blackguard loose agin, an' y' know he's got it
in fer ye!"
"Oh, I can take care of myself," said Allan, easily.
"In a fair fight ye could," agreed Jack. "But ye know as well as I do
that he won't fight fair. He'll be tryin' some of his cowardly tricks on
ye, jest like he did afore. I won't be able t' sleep fer worritin' about
it!"
"Oh, nonsense, Jack! You don't need to worry, at all. I'll keep my eyes
open. But you haven't told me yet how he got out. Was he pardoned?"
"Oh, wuss'n that!" answered Jack, disgustedly. "They went an' put him on
th' pay-roll!"
"On the pay-roll!" repeated Allan. "Oh, you mean he's been parolled?"
"Yes; what's that mean?"
"It means that he's released during good behaviour. As soon as he does
anything wrong he'll be whisked back into the penitentiary, and won't get
out again till his term's out."
"Much good that'll do," commented Jack, "arter th' mischief's done!
That's like lockin' th' stable door arter th' hoss is stole!"
"He's probably promised to be good."
"He'd promise anything," said Jack; "why, he'd sell his soul t' th'
devil, t' git another chance at ye. Ye must look out fer yourself, me
boy."
"I will," promised Allan, with a laugh, as he swung himself aboard the
train. "Don't worry."
But when the train had started and he was alone with his thoughts,
without the fear of Jack's sharp eyes seeing what was passing in his
mind, the smile faded from his lips. After all, seek to evade it as he
might, there _was_ some danger. Nolan was vindictive--he would seek
revenge first of all, unless his nature had been completely changed,
which was scarcely to be expected. If he would fight fairly, there was
very little to apprehend from him; but Allan knew perfectly well that
he would not do this. He would work in the dark, undoubtedly; he would
watch for a chance to injure his enemy without running any risk himself.
So it was in a decidedly serious frame of mind that Allan left the train
at Byers Junction and entered the little frame building which was his
office. Nevins, the day man, grunted the gruffest kind of a greeting,
caught up his coat and lunch-basket, and hastened away, while Allan sat
down, looked over the orders, and familiarized himself with the condition
of things. There was an order or two to acknowledge, and a report to
make, and half an hour passed almost before he knew it.
As he leaned back in his chair to rest a moment, he happened to glance
through the window, and was surprised to see Nevins walking up and down
the track, at a little distance, as though waiting for some one. He still
had his lunch-basket in his hand, and evidently had not yet gone home to
supper. Allan watched him, with a feeling of uneasiness which he could
not explain. At last, he saw Nevins make an impatient gesture, and after
looking up and down the track again, walk rapidly away in the direction
of the little village where he boarded.
First Ninety-eight pulled in at that moment and stopped for orders;
orders for an extra west had to be received, and a train on the
connecting road had to be passed on its way, and by the time he was at
leisure again he had forgotten all about Nevins. He got out his copy of
the book of rules, and looked through it to be sure that he was familiar
with the rules which governed each emergency.
The book opened with a "General Notice," to the effect that "to enter or
remain in the service is an assurance of willingness to obey the rules;
obedience to the rules is essential to the safety of passengers and
employees; the service demands the faithful, intelligent, and courteous
discharge of duty; to obtain promotion, capacity must be shown for
greater responsibility; and employees, in accepting employment, assume
its risks."
The general rules which followed were easily remembered. Among other
things they prohibited the use of intoxicants by employees, while on
duty, and the warning was given that "the habitual use of intoxicants,
or the frequenting of places where they are sold, is sufficient cause
for dismissal." The officials of the railroads all over the country have
come to realize the need for a cool head, steady nerves, and unimpaired
judgment in every man who holds a railroad position, from the lowest to
the highest, and conditions which were only too common a generation ago
would not now be tolerated for a moment. The standard of character, of
intelligence, and of conduct required from their employees by railroads,
and by almost every other industrial enterprise, has been steadily
growing higher, and while skill and experience, of course, still count
for much, character and habits also weigh heavily in the scale.
A whistle down the line told him that the extra west, for which he had
an order, was approaching. He went to the door and assured himself that
the signal was properly set, then, as the train pounded up, called up the
dispatchers' office and reported its arrival. A moment later, a heavy
step sounded on the platform and Bill Higgins entered. Allan handed him
the order silently, and stood waiting for him to read it, wondering if
there would be another quarrel like that of the night before. But Higgins
read the order aloud, without protest, then folded it up, put it in his
pocket, and turned to go. Allan sat down again at his key; but after a
moment he realized that Higgins was still standing beside his chair.
He glanced up in surprise, and saw that the big conductor was fiddling
nervously with his lantern.
"Fact is," he burst out, catching Allan's eye, "I made a fool o' myself
last night. I want you to fergit it, m' boy."
"I will," said Allan, heartily, and held out his hand.
Bill grasped it in his mammoth palm and gave it a mighty squeeze.
"'Tain't fer my own sake," he added, and his voice was a little husky.
"I know," said Allan, quickly. "It's all right. I've forgotten it."
"Thank'ee," said Bill, awkwardly, and turned away.
Allan watched his burly figure until it disappeared through the door. He
was glad that he had taken the engineer's advice and not reported him.
After all, the man was good, at heart; and besides, there were the wife
and children.
He waited until he heard the train puff away, reported its departure,
and then picked up the book of rules again. He ran over the
definitions--definition of "train," "section," "extra," and so on, which
there is no need to repeat here--with which, indeed, the readers of this
series ought already to be familiar.
Following the definitions came the train-rules, with instructions as
to the time-card, and the signal rules. The latter are especially
interesting, for every one who has travelled on a railway has noticed the
signals made by hand, flag, or lantern, and has no doubt wondered what
they meant. A hand, flag, or lantern swung across the track means stop;
raised and lowered vertically, proceed; swung vertically in a circle
across the track, when the train is standing, back; and there are other
signals to indicate when the train has broken in two, and to order the
release or application of the air-brakes. Rule No. 13 is that "any object
waved violently by any one on or near the track is a signal to stop," and
a stop signal must always be obeyed, no matter at what cost--to run by
such a signal means instant dismissal.
There are other signals, too, which are of interest to passengers,
particularly the whistle signals. There are sixteen of these, but the
more important ones are: one short blast, stop; one long blast on
approaching stations, junctions, or railroad-crossings at grade; two
long blasts followed by two short ones on approaching public crossings
at grade, which is the signal most frequently heard by the travelling
public. A succession of short blasts means danger ahead--and is used,
too, to scare cows and horses off the track.
There is yet another class of signals, which are given with the
signal-cord which runs overhead through every passenger-coach. Every one,
of course, has seen this cord, and has also seen the conductor use it to
signal to the engineer. It is connected with a little valve over the door
of the car, and every time the conductor pulls it, there is a little hiss
from the valve as of escaping steam. This is the compressed air escaping.
The valve is connected with a compressed-air line which runs through the
entire train, and every pull on the cord blows a little whistle in the
cab of the engine. Two pulls at this cord, when the train is moving,
means stop at once; when the train is standing, two pulls is the signal
to start. Four pulls means reduce speed, and five, increase speed. Three
pulls is the signal usually heard, and indicates that the train is to
stop at the next station. It is always answered by two toots from the
whistle to show that the engineer understands. This compressed-air line
long ago replaced the old signal-cord which rang a bell in the cab.
A call sounded on his instrument, and Allan laid down the book again to
answer it. There was a short order to be taken, and just as he repeated
it and snapped his key shut, he heard a step at the door behind him. He
glanced around carelessly, then started suddenly upright, for on the
threshold peering in at him stood Dan Nolan.