"What if he was mistaken, and they meant to try there after all? There are
eight of us."
"We have got to take the risk," said Grant very quietly, "and it is a big
responsibility; but if the boys got their work in and fell foul of Cheyne,
we would have half the State ablaze."
He signed for silence, and Breckenridge stared out through the glasses,
for he feared his face would betray him, and fancied he understood the
burden that was upon the man who, because it seemed the lesser evil, was
risking eight men's lives.
As he watched, a blink of light crept out of the snow, grew brighter, and
swept back to them. Others appeared in a cluster behind it, a big
water-tank flashed by, and the roar of wheels and scream of whistle was
flung back by a snow-covered building. Then, as Breckenridge glanced to
the opposite side, the blaze of another headlamp dazzled his eyes and he
had a blurred vision of a waiting locomotive and a long row of
snow-smeared cars. In another second cars and station had vanished as
suddenly as they had sprung up out of the night, and they were once more
alone in the sliding snow. Breckenridge drew a breath of relief.
"There's the stock train, any way. And now for the bridge!" he said.
"That was the easiest half of it. Muller was there--I saw him--and he
could have warned the agent at the last minute," Grant answered.
Neither of them said anything further, but Breckenridge felt his heart
beat faster as the snow whirled by. The miles were slipping behind them,
and he was by no means so sure as Larry was that no attempt would be made
upon the bridge. His fancy would persist in picturing the awful leap into
the outer darkness through the gap in the trestle, and he felt his lips
and forehead grow a trifle colder and his flesh shrink in anticipation of
the tremendous shock. He looked at Grant; the latter's face was very
quiet, and had lost its grimness and weariness--there was almost a
suggestion of exaltation in it.
"We are almost on the bridge now," he said.
The engineer nodded, and the next moment Breckenridge, who had been
watching the light of the headlamp flash along the snow beside the track,
saw it sweep on, as it were, through emptiness. Then, he heard a roar of
timber beneath him, and fancied he could look down into a black gulf
through the filmy snow. He knew it was a single track they were speeding
over, and that the platform of the calaboose behind them overhung the
frozen river far below.
He set his lips and held his breath for what seemed a very long time, and
then, with a sigh of relief, sank back into his seat as he felt by the
lessening vibration, that there was frozen soil under them. But in spite
of himself the hands he would have lighted a cigar with shook, and the
engineer who looked round glanced at him curiously.
"Feeling kind of sick?" he said. "Well, it's against the regulations, but
there's something that might fix you as well as tea in that can."
Breckenridge smiled feebly. "The fact is, I have never travelled on a
locomotive before, and when I took on the contract I didn't quite know all
I was letting myself in for," he said.
"How far are we off the long down grade with the curve in it?" asked
Grant.
"We might get there in 'bout ten minutes," said the engineer.
"Slacken up before you reach the grade and put your headlamp out," said
Grant. "I want you to stop just this side of the curve, and wait for me
five minutes."
The engineer looked at him steadily. "Now, there's a good deal I don't
understand about all this. What do you want me to stop there for?"
"I don't see why you should worry. It does not concern you. Any way, I
have hired this special, and I give you my word that nothing I am going to
do will cause the least damage to any of the company's property. I want
you to stop, lend me a lantern, and sit tight in the cab until I tell you
to go on. We will make it two dollars a minute."
The engineer nodded. "I don't know what you are after, but I guess I can
take your word," he said. "You seem that kind of a man."
Ten minutes later the fireman vanished into the darkness, and the blaze of
the headlamp went out before he returned and the roar of the drivers sank.
The rhythmic din grew slack, and became a jarring of detached sounds
again, the snow no longer beat on the glasses as it had done, and, rocking
less, the great locomotive rolled slowly down the incline until it
stopped, and Grant, taking the lantern handed him, sprang down from the
cab. Four other men were waiting on the calaboose platform, and when Grant
hid the lantern under his fur coat they floundered down the side of the
graded track which there crossed a hollow. A raw wind whirled the white
flakes about them and Breckenridge could scarcely see the men behind him.
He was thankful when, slipping, sliding, stumbling, they gained the
level.
From there he could just distinguish the road bed as something solid
through the whirling haze, and he felt they were following a bend of it
when Grant stopped and a clinking sound came out of the obscurity above
them. It might have been made by somebody knocking out key wedges or
spikes with a big hammer and in his haste striking the rail or chair.
Then Grant said something Breckenridge could not catch, and they were
crawling up the slope, with the clinking and ringing growing a trifle
louder. Breckenridge's heart beat faster than usual, but he was tolerably
collected now. He had a weapon he was not unskilled with in his pocket,
and the chance of a fight with even desperate men was much less
disconcerting than that of plunging down into a frozen river with a
locomotive. He had also a reassuring conviction that if Larry could
contrive it there would be no fight at all.
He crawled on, with the man behind clutching at him, now and then, and the
one in front sliding back on him, until his arms were wet to the elbows
and his legs to the knees; but the top of the grade seemed strangely
difficult to reach, and he could see nothing with the snow that blew over
it in his eyes. Suddenly Larry rose up, there was a shout and a flounder,
and, though he did not quite know how he got there, Breckenridge found
himself standing close behind his comrade, and in the light of the lantern
held up saw a man drop his hammer. There were other men close by, but they
were apparently too astonished to think of flight.
"It's Larry!" somebody exclaimed.
"Stop where you are," said Grant sharply as one man made a move. "I don't
want to shoot any of you, but I most certainly will if you make me. Are
there any more of you?"
"No," said one of the men disgustedly.
Grant walked forward swinging his lantern until his eyes rested on one
partly loosened rail. "And that is as far as you have got?" he said. "Take
up your hammer and drive the wood key in. Get hold of their rifles,
Charley. I guess they are under that coat."
There was an angry murmur, and a man started to speak; but Grant stopped
him.
"Hammer the wedges in," he said. "It was pure foolishness made me come
here to save you from the cavalry who had heard of what you meant to do,
because we have no use for men of your kind in this country. You haven't
even sense enough to keep your rifles handy, and there will be two or
three less of you to worry decent folks if you keep us waiting."
A man took up the hammer, and then waited a moment, looking at those who
stood about Larry. He could see the faces of one or two in the lantern
light, and recognized that he need expect no support from them. The men
were resolute Americans, who had no desire for anything approaching
anarchy.
"We are with Larry, and don't feel like fooling. Hadn't you better start
in?" one of them said.
The rail was promptly fastened, and Grant, after examining it, came back.
"Go on in front of us, and take your tools along! It will not be nice for
the man who tries to get away," he said.
The prisoners plodded dejectedly up the track until they reached the
calaboose, into which the others drove them. Then Grant and Breckenridge
went back to the locomotive, and the former nodded to the engineer:
"Take us through to Boynton as fast as you can."
"That is a big load off your mind," Breckenridge said as the panting
engine got under way.
But Grant, huddled in a corner, neither moved nor spoke until, half an
hour later, they rolled into a little wooden town and the men in the
calaboose got down. There was nobody about the depot to ask them any
questions, and they crossed the track to the straggling street apparently
on good terms with each other, though four of them knew that unpleasant
results would follow any attempt at a dash for liberty. In answer to
Grant's knock, a man let them into one of the stores.
"I guess we'll lock them in the back store until morning," he said, after
a short conference apart with Grant. "A little cooling down is not going
to do them much harm, and I don't think anyone could get out without an
axe."
The building looked secure and, when food and hot coffee had been served
them, Grant retired to rest. He slept soundly, and it was close on
daylight when a pounding on the door awakened him.
"I guess you had better get up at once," their host called.
A few minutes later Grant and Breckenridge went downstairs with him, and
the storekeeper, opening a door, lifted the lamp he held and pointed to an
open window in the roof. A barrel, with a box or two laid upon it, stood
suggestively beneath it.
Breckenridge glanced at Larry, and saw a curious little smile on his face.
"Yes," he said, "it's quite simple. Now, I never saw that window. Where
would they be likely to head for?"
"Pacific Slope," said the storekeeper. "Wages are high just now, and they
seemed quite afraid of you. The west-bound fast freight stopped here for
water about two hours ago, and it was snowing that thick nobody would see
them getting into a box car. They heave a few dry goods out here
occasionally."