Ralph on the Engine: or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail

CHAPTER X
THE SPECIAL

Within a week the young fireman of the Limited Mail was in full swing as a trusted and valued employe of the Great Northern. Engineer Griscom had got the time schedule down to a system of which he was proud. They made successful runs without a break or accident, and Ralph loved the life for its variety, experience and promise of sure promotion.

The documents given to him for his mother by the agent of Gasper Farrington in the city were apparently all regular and business-like. They covered receipt for twenty thousand dollars, designating certain numbered bonds indicated, but one phrase which exonerated the village magnate from blame or crooked dealing in the affair Ralph did not at all like. He believed that there was some specious scheme under this matter and he awaited developments.

One blustering night he and Griscom had just run the engine into the roundhouse, when Tim Forgan, the foreman, came hastening towards them, a paper fluttering in his hand and accompanied by a young fellow about twenty years of age. The latter was handsome and manly-looking, very well dressed, and Ralph liked him on sight.

“The very men,” spoke Forgan, showing an unusual excitement of manner. “Griscom, Fairbanks, let me introduce you to Mr. Trevor.”

Engineer and fireman bowed, but the young man insisted on shaking hands cordially with his new acquaintances.

“Glad to meet you, gentlemen,” he said briskly. “I have heard nothing but regrets as to your absence and praises for your ability in the railroad line from Forgan here. Tell your story, Mr. Forgan. You know time is money to me, just at present,” and the speaker consulted an elegant timepiece in a hurried, anxious way.

“Why, it’s just this,” said Forgan. “Mr. Trevor, who is a nephew of the president of the road, came to me with a telegram directing us to send him through to the city on the quickest time on record.”

“A special, eh?” said Griscom, eyeing the young man speculatively.

“About that, only there is no time to waste in making up a train, and he inclines to riding on the locomotive. The train dispatcher will give clear tracks to terminus. We were just picking out an engine when you arrived. How is it, Griscom?”

“You mean, will we undertake the job?” inquired the veteran engineer in his practical, matter-of-fact way.

“Exactly,” nodded Trevor eagerly.

“After a hard double run?” insinuated Griscom.

“That’s so; it isn’t right to ask them, Forgan. Give me some other engine.”

“Won’t you wait till I answer?” demanded Griscom. “Yes, we will, and glad to show you the courtesy. Is that right, Fairbanks?”

“Certainly,” replied Ralph. “Is it a matter of a great deal of urgency, Mr. Trevor?”

“Particularly so. I have come five hundred miles on other roads on specials. I must connect with a train in the city at a certain time, or I miss Europe and important business.”

Old Griscom took out his greasy, well-worn train schedule. He looked it over and pointing to the regular time made, said:

“We can discount that exactly seventy-two minutes.”

“And that will bring me to terminus exactly on time,” said the young man brightly. “Do it, my friends, and you shall have a hundred dollars between you.”

“That isn’t at all necessary” – began Griscom.

“I beg pardon, but in this case it is,” broke in Trevor. “It’s all arranged. Thanks. I will put on a rain coat, and if you will stow me in some corner of the tender I shall enjoy the run.”

Forgan bustled about. Through the call boy of the roundhouse Ralph sent word to his mother of the extra trip. Then he worked like a beaver on the locomotive. Trevor watched him in a pleased and admiring way.

They ran the locomotive out on the turn table. Griscom consulted his watch, talked a few moments with Forgan, and said to Ralph:

“Tracks clear in twelve minutes, lad. Just time enough to get a bite at the nearest restaurant.”

When they returned, Trevor stood near the engine glancing all around him in a very animated way.

“Looking for Forgan?” inquired the old engineer.

“Oh, no. I was wondering where a fellow disappeared to who was hanging around the tender a few minutes ago. He and a companion have been following me ever since I arrived.”

“Then they have given up the job,” observed Griscom, glancing keenly about. “Why should they follow you, Mr. Trevor?”

“That I cannot tell. Probably thought I looked prosperous, and were bent on waylaying me. Anyhow, they kept close to me down the tracks from the depot. Ready?”

“In precisely one minute. There is the Dover Accommodation now,” announced the engineer, as a headlight came around a curve. “All right. We’ll have to coal up at the limits. Then we will make you a comfortable seat, Mr. Trevor.”

“Don’t you give yourselves any concern about me,” replied Trevor. “I am used to railroad life.”

They coaled up at the limits, but did not stop for water, the tank being three-quarters full. Ralph made tests of air valve and water pump, shook down the furnace, and the locomotive quivered under high-steam pressure as they started on their special run.

A flagman shouted something at them as they passed a switch.

“What was he saying?” inquired Griscom.

“I couldn’t hear him,” said Ralph.

“Thought he pointed at the engine – at the cow-catcher,” remarked Trevor.

“Everything all right there,” assured Ralph, and in the brisk action of the hour the circumstance was forgotten.

Twenty, thirty, forty miles made, and as they slowed down Griscom turned to Trevor, a proud glitter in his eye.

“How is that, sir?” he inquired.

“Famous!” cried the young man cheerily. “Badly shaken up, and this seat up here is rather bumpy, but I enjoy it, just the same. Going to stop?”

“Yes, crossing. Only for half-a-minute, though.”

The engine halted on regular signal. Griscom got down and ran about a bit, explaining that he was subject to cramps when seated long in one position. Two men came up to the locomotive.

“Give us a lift?” demanded one of them.

“Couldn’t do it, partner,” responded Ralph. “Under special orders.”

“Plenty of room up there on the tender.”

“Not for you,” answered the young fireman.

Both men regarded Trevor very keenly. Then they disappeared in the darkness. Ralph got the signal from the crossing’s switch tower to go ahead.

“Mr. Griscom,” he called out from his window.

“Why, where is he? – I don’t see him,” said Trevor in surprise. “I saw him out there not a minute ago.”

Ralph jumped to the ground in amazement. Nowhere in sight was Griscom; nowhere within hearing either, it seemed. Like the two rough fellows who had just approached the engine, Griscom has disappeared.

“Why, this is mysterious,” declared the young fireman in an anxious tone of concern. “Where can he have disappeared to?”

“I don’t like the looks of things,” spoke Trevor. “Something is wrong, Fairbanks,” he continued. “Look ahead there – I just saw a man on the cowcatcher.”

Now Ralph was more than mystified, he was alarmed. He seized a rod and jumped again to the ground. Sure enough, on the cowcatcher sat a man, huddled up comfortably.

“Who are you?” demanded Ralph, keeping his distance and eyeing the intruder suspiciously.

“Call me a tramp, if you like,” laughed the fellow.

“You must get off of that cowcatcher.”

“Who says so?”

“I do – against the rules. Come, move on.”

“You try to put me off, youngster,” drawled the fellow, with an ugly look in his eyes, “and I’ll use this,” and he drew a revolver from his pocket. “I want a free ride, and I intend to have it.”

“Will you make me stop at the tower to get you put off?” threatened Ralph.

“You won’t. There’s no one there but the towerman, and he can’t leave duty, and you won’t stop because you’re on a fast run. Take it easy, sonny. I don’t weigh much, and I won’t hurt your old locomotive.”

Ralph could do nothing better than submit to the imposition for the time being. He returned to the cab. His face was quite anxious. He called again to Griscom.

“I can’t understand it,” he said. “What can have befallen him? Keep a close watch here for a few minutes, will you?” he asked of his passenger.

Ralph took a lantern and ran down the tracks, flashed the light across the empty freights lining the tracks, and returned to the locomotive more anxious than ever.

“I can’t think what to do, Mr. Trevor,” he said.

The young man consulted his watch nervously.

“Tell you, Fairbanks, we mustn’t lose time. You can’t find your partner. Run to the tower and have the man there telegraph the circumstances and get someone to look for Griscom. We will have to run on without him.”

“Without Griscom!” cried Ralph. “Why, we cannot possibly secure a substitute this side of Dover.”

“Don’t need one – you know how to run an engine, don’t you?”

“In a fashion, probably, but I am worried about Mr. Griscom.”

“The towerman can attend to that. I don’t want to appear selfish, Fairbanks, but you must get this special through on time or get to some point where we can find another engineer.”

“I don’t like it,” said Ralph. “Without a fireman, too.”

“I’ll attend to that department,” said Trevor, briskly throwing off his coat. “Now then, the tower, your word to the operator there, and make up for lost time, Fairbanks, if you want to earn that hundred dollars.”

CHAPTER XI
KIDNAPPED

Ralph climbed to the engineer’s seat with many misgivings and very anxious concerning his missing partner. He knew how to run an engine, for the young fireman had watched Griscom at his duties, had studied every separate piece of machinery thoroughly, and more than once had relieved the veteran engineer for brief periods of time between stations.

“That was all well enough on a regular run,” thought Ralph, “but a special is a different thing.”

Then, coming to the switch tower, he called up to the operator there, who was at the open window. He explained hurriedly about the disappearance of Griscom. He also asked the towerman to telegraph ahead to Dover for a substitute engineer. The operator said he would have some men come down from the first station back on the route on a handcar to search for the missing rail-roader.

“Man on your cowcatcher there,” he called down as Ralph started up the engine.

“No time to bother with him now. Let him ride to Dover, if he wants to,” advised Trevor. “Now, Fairbanks, you to the throttle, me to the furnace. Just give me a word of direction when I need it, won’t you?”

But for his anxiety concerning his missing partner, the young fireman would have enjoyed the run of the next two hours immensely. There was a clear track – he had only to look out for signals. He was entirely familiar with the route, and Trevor proved a capable, practical assistant.

“Don’t look much like the man who left a palace car to step into a locomotive at Stanley Junction, eh?” laughed the young man, reeking with perspiration, and greasy and grimed. “How do I do – all right?”

“You must have had experience in the fireman line,” submitted Ralph.

“Why, yes,” acknowledged Trevor. “My uncle made me work in a roundhouse for a year. Once I believe I could run an engine, but I’ve forgotten a good deal. Fairbanks, look ahead!”

There was no occasion for the warning. Already the young fireman had discovered what his companion announced. As the locomotive glided around a sharp curve a great glare confronted them.

Not two hundred yards ahead was a mass of flames shooting skywards. The bridge crossing a creek that was located at this part of the route was on fire.

Ralph started to slow down. Then, discerning the impossibility of doing so this side of the burning structure, he set full speed.

“It’s make or break,” he said, in a kind of gasp.

“Put her through – take the risk,” ordered Trevor sharply.

Swish! crackle! crash! – it was an eventful moment in the career of the young fireman. There was a blinding glow, a rain of fire swayed through the locomotive cab, then, just as they cleared the bridge, the structure went down to midstream.

“We must get this news to Dover quick,” said Ralph, applying himself anew to lever and throttle. “We have ten minutes to make up then.”

Clink! – snap! – a terrific jar shook the locomotive. Contrary to signal given at the nearest switch ahead, the engine veered to a siding.

“What does this mean?” demanded Trevor sharply.

“Mischief – malice, perhaps,” said Ralph quickly. “Freights ahead – we shall have to stop.”

“Don’t do it,” directed Trevor. “Drive into them and push them ahead to the main line again. I’ll stand all damage.”

“They are empties, I noticed them on the afternoon run,” said the young fireman. “Mr. Trevor, all this complication, all these happenings are suspicious. We will have to slow down to the freights.”

“Slow down entirely,” growled a sudden voice. “Do it, or I’ll have it done by my partner, who is aboard all right.”

Both Ralph and Trevor turned sharply. Standing on the coal of the tender was a man. He was dripping with water, and in one hand held a revolver.

“No delay, Fairbanks,” he cautioned sternly. “We’ve taken too much trouble to miss this last chance to get you and your passenger.”

Ralph stopped the engine. Then calmly, but with a certain sense of peril and defeat, he faced the man.

“Where did you come from?” demanded Trevor in amazement.

“Only from inside the water tank,” responded the stranger coolly. “Been there since we left Stanley Junction.”

“Why, you are one of the fellows who were following me at the depot!” cried Trevor.

“Correct, boss,” chuckled the stranger. “Here’s my partner,” he announced, as the man Ralph had discovered on the cowcatcher appeared at the side of the cab. “We’ll relieve you two now,” continued the speaker to Ralph and Trevor. “Move back on that coal. We’ll try a bit of engineering ourselves.”

“See here, my man,” called out Trevor sharply. “What is the object of all this?”

“Object?” grinned the man. “You’ll know later. Important, for it took four men on the route, lots of inquiring before you came to Stanley Junction, two of us here now, others waiting for us somewhere else, to get you dead right.”

“Me!” exclaimed Trevor in amazement. “You mean me?”

“Nobody else.”

“Why, how are you interested in me?”

“You’ll know soon.”

“But–”

“Stand back, do as we say, or we’ll use force,” declared the speaker gruffly.

His companion guarded Ralph and Trevor while he took the engineer’s seat. He reversed the engine, ran back to the main tracks, from there, first setting a switch, onto a spur, and, after following this for nearly a mile, shut off steam and the locomotive came to a stop.

Then the fellow applied a whistle to his lips. Several men approached the engine. He consulted with them, and came back to Ralph carrying a piece of rope.

“Fairbanks,” he said, “we’ll have to tie you for safe keeping for a while.”

“Won’t you explain this?” inquired Trevor, in a troubled way. “See here, men, I am due in the city. I will pay you handsomely to let us proceed on our trip.”

“How much?” inquired the man who had acted as engineer.

“I have several hundred dollars with me.”

“Not enough,” retorted the man. “We want several thousand, seeing you are worth it.”

“I haven’t a thousand dollars in the world,” declared Trevor.

“You are worth twenty thousand,” insisted the man confidently. “We’ll prove it to you a little later. Here,” to his companion, “tie Fairbanks, leave the letter with him, and let us get out of this before anybody is missed.”

“One word,” said Ralph. “Are you people responsible for the disappearance of Mr. Griscom?”

“Perhaps,” said the man. “He’s all safe and sound – only out of the way of mischief for a spell. One other word, Fairbanks, we didn’t fire the bridge.”

Trevor looked the picture of distress and uncertainty as he was forced from the locomotive cab.

“You people will regret this high-handed outrage,” he cried. “My uncle is president of the Great Northern.”

“That is just exactly why you are worth twenty thousand dollars,” coolly announced the man who had acted as engineer. “Plain and square, gentlemen, kindly call this a bit of kidnapping scientifically worked at some care and expense. You come with us. Fairbanks will do the rest. Got him tied up?” to his companion. “All right, now put the letter in his pocket.”

And, leaving the young fireman bound and helpless on the floor of the cab, the men with Trevor left the scene.

CHAPTER XII
THE RAILROAD PRESIDENT

The young fireman had a good deal to think of as he lay in the locomotive cab, unable to help himself in any way. All the smooth sailing of the past week was remembered in strong contrast to the anxieties of the present moment.

Ralph had not recognized any of the crowd who had appeared about the engine during the evening. The leader, however, seemed to know his name. This inclined Ralph to the belief that some one of the party did know him, and naturally he thought of Ike Slump and his associates.

“They are desperate men, whoever they are,” he decided, “and they must have planned out this scheme to perfection to keep track of Mr. Trevor and follow us up along the line. That man in the water tank is a daring fellow. He must have had a pleasant time in there. It was an original move, anyhow.”

It was in vain that Ralph endeavored to release himself. He was stoutly tied. All he could do was to wriggle about and wonder how soon he would be set free by his captors or discovered by others.

It must have been fully three hours before there was any break in the monotony of his situation. Ralph heard some one whistling a tune and approaching rapidly. Soon a man appeared on the cab step, looked Ralph over coolly, and observed:

“Tired of waiting for me, kid?”

“Naturally,” responded Ralph. “Are you going to set me free?”

“That’s the orders, seeing that our party is safe at a distance. Got enough steam on to run the engine?”

“Yes,” replied Ralph. “There was full pressure when you people stopped us, and the steam lasts about six hours.”

“All right. You will have a great story to tell the railroad folks, eh? Don’t forget the letter we put in your pocket. There you are. Now then, go about your business and don’t say we did not treat you like a gentleman. Oh – ooh! What’s this?”

The man had cut the ropes that held Ralph captive, and carelessly swung to the step. In a flash the young fireman was on his mettle. Springing to his feet, Ralph snatched at a hooked rod. Reaching out, he caught the man by the coat collar and pulled him back flat across the cab floor where he had just lain.

“You lie still, or I shall use harsh measures,” declared Ralph, springing upon his captive and menacing him with the rod. “Hold up your hands, folded, and let me tie you.”

“Well, I guess not!”

“Yes, you shall!” cried Ralph.

In a second the situation changed. The man was much stronger than his opponent. He managed to throw Ralph off, and got to his knees. The young fireman decided, as the fellow reached for a weapon, to strike out with the iron rod. It landed heavily on the man’s temple, and he fell back senseless on the coal of the tender with a groan.

Ralph securely tied his captive. Then he reversed the lever and opened the throttle. In a minute he was speeding back over the spur the way the locomotive had come four hours previous.

“We have one of the kidnappers, at least,” he said with satisfaction. “Ah, there is some one at the bridge,” he added, as he ran down the main tracks.

Signals of danger were set on both sides of the creek, and Ralph could make out men in the distance moving about. He was soon on the scene.

A track-walker had discovered the burning bridge and had summoned assistance.

There was only one thing to do with the locomotive, to run on to Dover, and this Ralph did at once. He reported the occurrences of the evening to the assistant superintendent, whom he found getting a wrecking crew together.

“Well, this is a serious and amazing piece of business,” commented that official. “Here, men,” he called to his assistants on the wrecking car, “fetch this fellow into the shanty yonder.”

The man Ralph had knocked down in the locomotive cab had recovered consciousness. He was brought into the shanty and questioned, but was sullen and silent.

“Won’t tell anything, eh?” said the assistant superintendent.

“The letter says all there is to say,” remarked the captive coolly, “but that twenty thousand dollars will never find young Trevor if you keep me a prisoner.”

“A prisoner safe and tight you shall be,” declared the railroad official with determination. “Take him to the town jail, men,” he added. “I must wire for the president of the road at once, and to Adair at Stanley Junction. What’s your plan, Fairbanks?” he asked of Ralph.

“I hardly know,” responded the young fireman. “I don’t see that I can be of any assistance here.”

The letter the kidnappers had left with Ralph was terse and clear as to its directions. The writer demanded twenty thousand dollars for the return of young Trevor, and indicated how his friends might get in correspondence with his captors through an advertisement in the city newspapers.

“The wrecking car is going to the bridge, Fairbanks,” said the official. “You can cross the creek some way and use a handcar, if they have one. Tell the men there I say so. As to your prisoner, I will see that he is taken care of.”

It was just daylight when Ralph reached the switch tower where Griscom had disappeared. The towerman had just been relieved from duty, and met Ralph with eager welcome as he was approaching the place.

“Glad to see you,” he said. “We just found Griscom.”

“Where is he?” inquired Ralph quickly.

“In the tower, all safe and comfortable now, but he had a hard time of it lying all night in a freight car, gagged and tied. He is fighting mad, don’t understand the affair, and worried to death about you.”

“Oh, I am all right,” said Ralph.

“I see you are. But what has happened, anyhow? You’ll want to tell Griscom, won’t you? Well, I’ll go back with you to hear your story, too.”

It was an interesting scene, the meeting of the engineer and the young fireman. Griscom fretted and fumed over the mishaps to his pet locomotive. He was furious at the gang who had worked out such mischief.

“I’ll wire my resignation when we reach Stanley Junction,” he declared. “I’ll do no more railroad work until I find those scoundrels and rescue young Trevor.”

“Don’t be rash, Mr. Griscom,” advised Ralph. “The railroad detective force will soon be on the trail. The nephew of a railroad president doesn’t disappear in this fashion every day in the year.”

When they got back to Stanley Junction they were interviewed at once by Bob Adair. Both were worn out with double duty and got to bed as quickly as possible.

Ralph reported at the roundhouse late in the afternoon, but learned that there would be no through trains out until a temporary bridge was erected over the creek near Dover.

He returned to the house, and was pleased with the thought of having a social evening at home and a good night’s rest.

It was shortly after dark, and Ralph was reading a book in the cozy sitting room of the home cottage, when the door bell rang.

The young fireman answered the summons. A stranger stood at the threshold. He was a dignified, well-dressed gentleman, but seemed to be laboring under some severe mental strain, for he acted nervous and agitated.

“Mr. Fairbanks – Ralph Fairbanks?” he inquired in a tone of voice that quivered slightly.

“Yes,” replied the young fireman.

“I am very anxious to have a talk with you,” said the stranger hurriedly. “I have been down the line, and have just arrived at Stanley Junction. My name is Grant, Robert Grant, and I am the president of the Great Northern Railroad.”

“Come in, sir,” said Ralph cordially, deeply impressed with welcoming so important a visitor, but maintaining his usual manly pose. He showed the official into the house and introduced him to his mother.

Mr. Grant was soon in the midst of his story. He had been for many hours at Dover trying to discover a trace of his missing nephew, and had signally failed.

“Mr. Adair, the road detective, advised me to see you,” said Mr. Grant, “for you saw the men who captured my nephew. Would you know them again?”

“Some of them,” responded Ralph.

“Very well, then. I ask you as a special favor to return with me to Dover and assist me in my task.”

“I will do so gladly,” said Ralph.

One hour later a special conveyed the president of the Great Northern and Ralph Fairbanks down the line to Dover.