CHAPTER XXII
THE THREAT DIRECT
Had Ralph Fairbanks not been standing just outside the telegraph office window he would not have obtained a certain bit of information which proved, later, to be most important.
He had heard the operator send Mr. Hopkins’ wire to his daughter, and he knew very well that the girl would quickly respond to his and her mother’s need. But Ralph was not at all expecting such a seemingly prompt response as followed.
The big illuminated clock in the train shed now pointed to a quarter to twelve. The long string of cars belonging to the Midnight Flyer had been backed in some time before and the gates had been opened for the passengers to swarm aboard. The berths were all made up, of course, and the passengers immediately went to bed.
The young engineer, standing there idly, had his mind fixed upon the Hopkins’ troubles. How shocked Cherry would be to learn of her mother’s serious condition! It was true, as Ralph’s mother had said, never before had her son thought so much of any girl as he did of Cherry Hopkins.
Suddenly he heard the Rockton call on the telegraph sounder. It was rapped out a dozen times before Silsby, the operator, got to the key.
“I, I, Rok,” was the notification Silsby gave impatiently.
“Night letter for Super Hop. Overlooked. Shoot it,” came the reply, as plain to Ralph’s ear as it was to Silsby’s.
“Oh, boy!” retorted the Rockton operator. “You’re all set for trouble. I’ll try to smooth it. Go!”
Instantly the sounder began to click again and the Morse flowed smoothly to the listening engineer’s ears:
“B. Hop., Super,
“Rockton.“Got mother’s letter. Know she is ill. Am starting to-night on 10:40. Con. will pass me on your book. Tell mother I am coming.
“(Signed) C. Hopkins.”
It was odd, but the first thought Ralph Fairbanks had on overhearing this delayed message of Cherry Hopkins to her father was that the Midnight Flyer would pass the 10:40 from Shelby Junction in Shadow Valley not far from the Devil’s Den.
This message that had been delayed by some oversight should have reached the supervisor before he telegraphed to his daughter to come home. Cherry had evidently read between the lines of her mother’s letter and determined to rejoin Mrs. Hopkins, whether her father approved or not.
“Plucky girl!” thought Ralph. “She’s one person who doesn’t cower before the Great-I-Am. And she is already on the iron, coming home, as she thinks, without her father’s approval. Well, I guess the Hopkins will have to fight their family battles without any aid from me.”
Ralph started for the edge of the platform, for he saw the rear of the locomotive backing in. Stilling held the throttle. This fireman would soon apply for an engineer’s job. He handled the huge machine like a veteran, and when the coupling was made the passengers already in their berths aboard the train scarcely knew it, save for the long sigh of the compressed air.
Ralph stepped aboard while the firemen made the connections. As usual he put his can under the seat on the driver’s side. As he stooped to do this, he saw something white fluttering in the draught.
It was a folded paper hung upon a nail under the seat. He could not have missed seeing it when he set the luncheon kit down on the floor. He picked up the paper and stood up. He unfolded it in the light of his target lamp. Written boldly across the sheet were these words:
“Fairbanks:—You’re due for a bump to-night. If you like yourself, stay off the Midnight Flyer.”
This threatening screed was unsigned. And yet, as Ralph stared at it, he somehow felt that he had seen the careless writing before.
Who was this who seemed to be warning him, as well as threatening him? Was it a fake, or in earnest? Were the strikers or their friends trying to frighten him? Or did somebody who really felt kindly toward the young engineer believe that he should be warned of a real danger?
And where had he seen that handwriting before?
This last question seemed as important as the others. After the blowing out of the trestle pillar at the Devil’s Den, Ralph could easily believe that Andy McCarrey’s crowd would attempt other wicked designs against the peace and safety of the road and its loyal employees.
That the malcontents were making a grave mistake was undoubtedly a fact. The outrage at Devil’s Den and further attempts to wreck trains on the division would arouse the antagonism of the Brotherhoods instead of bringing their membership into line, as McCarrey had hoped. Such attempts threatened the lives of the train crews. Engineers and firemen and conductors and brakemen could not be frightened into aiding McCarrey in his wildcat strike. That went without saying.
Ralph had very little time to decide what he should do about this paper that he had found under his bench. He glanced up at the clock. Three minutes of midnight!
But as his gaze fell to the platform again he saw the tall figure of Mr. Adair hurrying along beside the train. Ralph leaned farther out of the window and beckoned him.
“What do you want, Ralph?” asked the chief detective hastily, as he leaped up the steps of the locomotive. “I have just heard——”
“And I’ve just found this.” The young engineer told him where. “And I believe I’ve seen that writing before.”
“Whose is it?” demanded Adair the instant he had scanned the warning words.
Ralph leaned closer to his ear and whispered a name. Adair started. “No?” he cried. “Do you believe that?”
“Compare it with that paper Zeph gave you,” urged Ralph.
The gong sounded. The young engineer’s hand went to the throttle. The conductor shouted “All aboard!”
“Keep your eyes open, Ralph,” advised the chief detective, swinging himself down. “That is no idle threat. I am going to keep the wires hot ahead of the Midnight Flyer to-night. Never mind if you smash your schedule all to flinders. Safety first, my boy.”
“That is not the super’s motto,” said Ralph, rather sharply. “‘Get her through,’ is what he wants.”
“You should worry!” exclaimed Adair as the great drivers began to turn. “The G. M. is behind you. I am having the whole division watched. I’ll jack the boys up right now. But if anything happens——”
His voice trailed off into silence. At least it was drowned by the exhaust. The express rumbled out from under the train shed and Ralph eased her through the yards.
“Due for a bump to-night.” If that warning was serious, it was well worth Ralph Fairbanks’ attention.
“But the fellow doesn’t intimate where the bump is coming. Humph! Perhaps he doesn’t know. I bet that Andy McCarrey, if he has planned to hold up this train again, is not telling many people about it.
“Just those who do his wicked work. And who are they? Is Whitey Malone down there in Shadow Valley yet? Is it he whom Zeph is watching? Did he set off the dynamite that blew out that pillar?
“My goodness! I could ask a hundred questions along this line and get the same answer to all. Nothing! Well——”
The train left the outskirts of Rockton without any trouble. It ran smoothly over the well-ballasted track. The engineer and firemen gazed ahead keenly. All were on the alert for trouble, but Ralph did not tell his firemen of the warning he had received.
“Why worry them?” he thought. “It’s bad enough that I should feel as though a sword were hanging over me.”