Helplessly Trapped
Spike uttered a cry of fright, while Joe dashed forward to make sure
that his friend was right.
As Bob had said, the railroad man had fastened the door securely.
There was an opening of about eight inches, across which was a heavy
chain that terminated at a large lock. In order to cut the chain, a
file would be necessary.
Of the three prisoners, Spike was the first to resume his natural
attitude. Perhaps this was due to his wide experience in riding
freight trains. At any rate he seemed to forget his plight and resign
himself over to any fate.
"Tough luck!" the lad said. "Guess you guys will have to ride with me
to Chicago. May be several days before we can get anything to eat,
too."
"That's the worst part about it," lamented Bob. "It may be days, or
even weeks, before we'll reach our destination."
Bob and Joe were inclined to be downhearted, but their young friend
was cheerful.
"Don't you worry," he consoled them. "I've been in tight fixes like
this many a time, and I've always got out all right. One time I went
out West and got locked in just like we are now."
Young Spike sounded like an experienced vagabond, and the youths could
not help laughing.
"How did you get out?" asked Joe, after the laugh had subsided.
"It was easy. When we stopped at a town I just waited for some hobo to
come along. Somehow he got ahold of a file and had me out in a jiffy.
Hoboes are good to do anything like that for you."
"Let's hope history will repeat itself," muttered Bob, who, along with
Joe, did not like the prospects of a trip to Chicago.
Less than ten minutes later there was a slight jar, and the train
started moving. Although pulled by a large engine, there was little
chance of high speed, for a line of cars over a half-mile long
stretched far down the track.
Bob, Joe, and Spike crowded before the crack to catch a glimpse of the
town at which they had stopped. But aside from a number of freight
cars and old buildings, there was little to be seen.
"Suppose we arrange boxes in front of what little opening there is,"
suggested Joe. "We may as well amuse ourselves by looking out."
"That reminds me," burst out Spike. "I want to see if anything in this
car has stuff to eat in it."
He at once began a search of the many boxes, bales, and crates that
were packed in each end of the car. Suddenly he gave a cry of delight.
"Here's apples!" he cried excitedly. "Gee whiz! Who says we don't
eat?"
But the fruit was in tightly nailed crates, which could not be easily
opened.
"Come here, fellows!" shouted Spike. "Give me a hand! You don't expect
_me_ to open 'em when there's big guys like you around, do you?"
"Wait a minute!" commanded Bob. "Whose apples are they?"
"Whose are they? I don't know. Why?"
"Do you think it's right to get in a box car and eat up somebody's
apples?"
"Ah, gee whiz! You ain't gonna back out of a chance like this, are
you? Come on. Be a sport."
Bob stoutly refused.
"We're not going to open any boxes or crates around here, and you're
not either! Get that and get it straight! Of course if we have to, to
keep from starving, we will. But not now."
Against this stout protest there was no use persisting, and Spike
finally walked sullenly back to his seat before the slightly open
door.
"You guys sure are the berries," he said with an ironic smile.
"You'll never get anywhere that way."
"That's where you're wrong," Joe corrected him. "We will and you
won't, unless you get such notions out of your head."
"Ah, blooey!"
A half-hour of silence followed, during which time the three gazed
absently out, watching the farms, the forests, the rivers and creeks
slip by. They were beginning to enter the Appalachian Mountains, and
more of natural beauty promised to be visible.
But Bob and Joe did not care to observe the beauties of nature just
then. Their thoughts were dwelling on the probabilities of the future.
What lay in store for them? Would they be able to get home in time to
accompany their fathers to the Andes Mountains, or would fate rule
that they remain for an indefinite period in this box car? If the
truth were known, the youths were not a little worried.
Darkness was beginning to enshroud the travelers, and the necessity of
making improvised beds moved them to action. There was a large pile of
burlap sacks in a far corner of the car. These they arranged a short
distance from the partly open door.
"I don't think these bags are inhabited," smiled Joe. "They look
almost brand-new. At any rate we'll take a chance with them."
"We'll have to," agreed Bob, who realized the necessity of a rest
after such an arduous day.
However, the travelers spent an hour or so longer gazing out at the
dim outlines of the mountains. Although Bob and Joe were tired, they
had an uneasy feeling about resigning themselves over to sleep.
Something unexpected might happen during the night.
Finally Bob arose and walked over to his bunk.
"Suppose we turn in," he suggested. "We may need plenty of energy
tomorrow. It's possible for almost anything to happen, you know."
Joe nodded and took his place beside his friend, but Spike announced
that he would remain up awhile longer.
Almost at once the youths fell asleep. But from their experiences in
dangerous lands they had learned to keep one eye open as a precaution.
This proved to be unnecessary, however, and they awoke the next
morning greatly refreshed.
"We're on the other side of the mountains," observed Joe, as he
stretched and glanced out of the crack.
"Now maybe we can make better time," Bob said, moving over to the
door.
The three travelers were forced to begin the day without breakfast.
Spike insisted that they open the crates of apples, but Bob firmly
refused.
"We may find some way out today," the youth consoled him. "If we have
to, we can eat a few of those apples tonight."
All morning the train continued on its journey, passing small towns
and villages. Along toward noon it stopped at Charleston, West
Virginia, where after an hour of switching it was left on a side
track.
Suddenly Joe, who was standing by the crack, caught sight of a
trainman not far away. The man's face was rather pleasant, with no
trace of gruffness.
"There's a chance," Joe said. "Let's ask him to help us out."
"No, don't," pleaded Spike, pulling Joe back.
"Why not?"
"'Cause if he gets you out he won't let me keep in this car to
Chicago."
"But what about Bob and me? We don't want to ride all that distance."
"No. Go ahead and call him," directed Bob, who was moving up to the
door. "Spike can find another car that's going to Chicago. We want to
get home."
Disregarding the lad's protest, Joe shouted and motioned for the man
to come to the box car. There was a look of surprise on the fellow's
face as he moved over to where the three were trapped.
"What's it all about?" he demanded. "You guys trying to steal a ride,
huh? Come on out of there and pick a car that ain't got anything in
it."
"We can't get out," explained Joe. "Locked in, I guess. That's what we
wanted of you. See if you can get the door open."
"Oh! So they penned you up, huh? Yeah. I see that locked chain now.
Sorry, but I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."
"But--but we've got to get out," Joe said persistently. "We haven't
had anything to eat for quite a while."
The man hesitated a moment.
"Got any money?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Let's see it."
Joe held up a half-dollar.
"O.K. There's a grocery a block from here. Want me to get you
something?"
Delighted at such a chance, Joe instructed the trainman to purchase
several articles of food that would be sufficient to last for several
days. It was with a feeling of high hope that the youths watched the
man walk in the direction of the store.
In less than fifteen minutes he was back and handed Joe a sack of
groceries in return for money. In recognition for his service, the
youth tipped him generously.
"Now for a delicious meal," said Bob, smacking his lips. "And will we
eat!"
The boys _did_ eat, and felt much better for it. When they had scraped
up the last crumb, they stretched out on the burlap sacks.
The remainder of the day passed without incident. Darkness was just
setting in when, with a slight jerk, the train started moving.
Even though they had expected an undisturbed sleep, Bob and Joe were
delighted that they were again on their way. Every mile left behind
would mean that they were nearer Chicago, which was perhaps the only
city at which they could hope to escape from their prison.
"Let's hope we make good time now," breathed Bob, as he and his
friends turned in, to get what sleep a rumbling train would allow
them.
All through the night the freight rattled on, this time much faster
than before. Although several stops were made, the train made
unusually good time, pulling into Cincinnati late the next morning.
"Here's where we'll have to wait," said Joe. "They might keep us
switched here for several days."
Almost at once their box car was sidetracked, and was not moved until
late the next day. About four o'clock another engine was attached, a
much shorter train being formed. Then slowly it pulled off the switch
and found a through track.
Bob and Joe could hardly believe their eyes. Were they to leave
Cincinnati so soon?
An hour later this question was answered. The boys found themselves
speeding along to Chicago, after having remained on the switch less
than twenty-four hours.
"I suppose we'll stop at every town and small city in Indiana," said
Bob gloomily. "Even though this is a fast freight, a delay will be
almost inevitable."
The youth was right. It was nearly three days later when the train
entered the city limits of Chicago. Gary and other cities of the
Calumet district had been left behind.
After what seemed like hours of constant travel in the metropolis, the
freight stopped at a busy switch yard, where scores of trains were
moving in all directions.
Suddenly Bob cried out in delight as he caught sight of a man walking
up the track. The youth recognized this fellow as the one who had
snapped the lock on the box-car door, making the young men and Spike
prisoners on the train.
Bob at once called the man, who, upon hearing, turned about in
surprise.
"Why--what--what are you doing in that car?" he demanded angrily, as
he caught sight of the youth.
"We want to get out!" Bob's voice was cool and determined.
"But how did you get in there? I thought I locked that door. I----"
"Let us out and we'll tell you all about it," Bob pleaded.
The man pulled a bunch of keys out of his pocket and immediately
unlocked the door. Bob hurriedly rolled it open and jumped out,
followed by Joe and young Spike.
It was good to feel their feet on the ground again. Bob and Joe could
have cried out in joy. But there was little time to do this, for the
trainman demanded an explanation of their presence.
Briefly Bob narrated the circumstances that led to their boarding the
train, shielding Spike as much as possible. When he had finished, the
man viewed the young lad critically.
"I think I'll turn you over to the yard master," he said to Spike,
"and see that you get what's coming to you."
He roughly caught hold of the boy's arm and pulled him forward.
"Wait a minute," begged Joe. "Spike didn't do any harm. He's promised
to quit running around and go home and go to school."
"Well, he ain't gonna get no sympathy from me. I got no use for a kid
that rides freights."
He gave the boy another pull, this time so violent that the latter
slipped and fell, bruising his face on the cinders.
Bob grew furiously angry. He stepped boldly up to the trainman.
"Let the boy alone!" he demanded, his eyes seeming to penetrate the
man.