CHAPTER XIII
A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER
With a further grinding of the brake shoes on the wheels, and many bumps, the train came to an abrupt stop. But there followed no terrifying crash, no overturning of the coaches, no splintering of woodwork, no bending of steel trusses, and no explosion of the locomotive boiler.
The passengers who had been tossed from their seats slowly arose, little the worse for the adventure save bruises. Then came a silence, to be broken by Bob, who asked:
“What happened?”
“Lots of things, I guess,” replied Ned, rubbing his elbow where it had come in contact with the edge of a seat.
“We may have just escaped a collision,” said Jerry, starting toward the door. “That was the emergency air brake that went on so suddenly.”
“It’s a hold-up—that’s what it is!” declared Jim Nestor. “I’ve been through ’em before and I know. Get your guns ready, boys. You’re heeled, aren’t you, Harvey?”
“I sure am, and I’m ready to fight at the drop of the hat. I haven’t much with me, but what I have I’m going to keep.”
“Same here,” declared Jim, getting behind one of the chair seats, after he had picked himself up out of a corner where he had been tossed by the sudden, jolting stop of the train. “Get behind one of these chairs, Harvey,” advised the mine foreman, “and when the rascals come in cover ’em before they get a chance to get the drop on us.”
“I’m wise, partner!”
The door at the end of the car opened and a man rushed in.
“Hands up!” yelled Jim and Harvey, in the same breath, and from behind the backs of their respective chairs two shining weapons covered the intruder. “Hands up! You can’t come any game like that!” went on Harvey Brill.
“What—what’s that? Train robbers! How did they get in here! I see! That’s why the brake cord was pulled! I—I——”
“Put up your guns!” cried Jerry, with a laugh. “This is the Pullman conductor, Jim. Put away those pistols! It’s all right, I tell you!”
Slowly Jim and his friend peered over the tops of the seats, and, as they saw the uniform of the train official, sheepish smiles spread over their countenances.
“Well, I’ll be horn-swoggled!” exclaimed Jim.
“And I’ll be grub-staked!” added Harvey, that seeming to be a favorite expression of his.
“Oh, you took me for a hold-up man!” exclaimed the conductor, a note of relief in his voice. “And I did the same by you. But something happened. Someone pulled the emergency air brake cord, and stopped the train almost within a length. Did any one here do it? And what for?”
“No one that we saw,” replied Jerry. “But something has evidently happened. One of our party—the head of it I may say,” he added, thinking to carry out the plan they had adopted—“Professor Snodgrass—is missing. I just discovered that he was gone when the train was pulled up. We fear he may have fallen off in going from one car to another.”
“That is hardly possible,” said the conductor. “This is a vestibuled train, and it is as safe to go from one car to another as it is to walk the length of a coach. He could not have fallen off.”
“Then where is he?” asked Ned, and the boys looked at one another in alarm. At that moment, from the rear end of the car they were in, came a voice crying:
“I have it! Oh, I have you my little beauty! You tried to get away from me, but I have you!”
“The professor!” cried Ned, Bob and Jerry, in a chorus.
They made a rush in the direction of the voice, and, a moment later, they saw their eccentric friend perched high up in a corner of the outer vestibule of the parlor car. He was supporting himself by standing on some small iron projection, his head was well up under the “hood” of the car, and, while clinging with one hand to the emergency air brake cord, with the other he clutched his prize.
“Is—is that you, Professor?” asked Jerry, hardly knowing what he was saying.
“Certainly it is, my boy,” was the calm answer, as the scientist surveyed the little group of astonished ones on the car platform below him. “Certainly I am here.”
“And—and did you——?” faltered Jerry.
“I certainly did. I captured it, the little beauty!” interrupted the scientist. “It is a most perfect specimen of the jumping Buffalo moth I have ever seen. I was passing from one car to the other when here, in the vestibule, I saw the moth. I tried to get it, but it jumped higher and higher, and I was forced to climb up. Then I got it, when it could go no farther.”
“No, what I meant,” explained Jerry, “was, did you pull the emergency air brake cord?”
“Oh, do you mean this thing?” innocently asked the professor, indicating the cord to which he was clinging with one hand. “Well, perhaps I did give it a yank. I had to hold on to it, you know, or else lose the jumping moth, and I did not want to do that. Perhaps I may have jerked the cord—this way——” and he was about to pull it again, when the conductor yelled:
“Don’t do that! Great Scott! The engineer has nervous prostration now, and we don’t want to scare him any more. Don’t pull that cord again!”
“Oh, very well,” agreed the professor, gently. “Will some one kindly give me a hand down? I don’t want to lose the moth. But why did the train stop so suddenly? Did we hit anything?”
“You stopped it,” explained Jerry, as he helped his friend down. “You put on the brakes when you pulled that cord.”
“Did I?” asked the scientist, innocently. “How odd! Well, I won’t do it again. Now to take care of my prize.”
“Well, I’ll be grub-staked!” ejaculated Harvey Brill, and as the conductor gave the engineer the signal to go ahead again, our party of friends returned to their seats, while trainmen went about explaining to the other passengers the cause of the emergency stop.
For that was what is was. On most trains there is a red cord, in addition to the one that communicates with an air whistle in the engineer’s cab. The pulling of this red cord automatically sets the air brakes, and, in supporting himself under the “hood,” or overhanging part of the vestibule of the coach, the professor had, by accident, pulled this cord. Of course the brakes went on quickly, and confusion resulted.
But no great harm was done, save to delay the train somewhat, and when the cause was explained no one blamed the innocent and absent-minded scientist. As for himself, he thought no more of the occurrence, being so busy putting the jumping moth in a box, and making notes concerning his prize. Then he began reading something about the luminous snakes from a book he carried.
Another day’s travel, during which they ate on the train, sleeping at night in comfortable berths, brought them to where they changed to the Great Northern Railroad.
“And now we’re beginning the last stage of our trip,” explained Jerry, who had been studying the route and timetables. “We’ll soon be in Kabspell.”
“And nothing has happened—that is, nothing much,” said Ned.
“The meals were pretty good,” observed Bob, patting the region beneath his belt.
“Say, is that all you think of?” demanded Ned. “I meant that nothing troublesome had happened. We haven’t been followed, and no suspicious characters seem to be spying on us.”
“Not since I got rid of that distant aunt of mine,” added Mr. Brill, with a sigh of relief. “Say, if she ever finds out I’ve got money I’ll never have any peace. She’ll tell all the rest of my poor relations, who seem to dislike work, and it will be all up with me. So, even if we find the sixty—I mean what we are after,” he hurriedly corrected himself, “don’t let on that any of it is mine—at least not while she’s around,” and he glanced nervously about as though fearful that the stout lady might somehow have followed him. But she was not present.
The journey on the Great Northern was pleasant traveling, and the boys went through a wonderful bit of country. It seemed that their journey was to be almost an uneventful one until, near the very end of it, something occurred that set them all on edge, and made the two Westerners very uneasy.
In accordance with their plan, Professor Snodgrass was spoken of as the ostensible head of the expedition, and to all who engaged our friends in conversation the impression was given that the capture of some rare snakes, as well as other specimens, was the object. The professor’s character naturally bore out this, especially after his stopping of the train.
“Let’s get out here and stretch our legs,” suggested Ned, when they reached the junction of the Great Northern line with the Great Falls and Canada Railroad.
“Yes, we haven’t far to travel now,” observed Mr. Brill. “We’ve been in Montana for some time. We’re not far from the Canadian border, and in a little while we’ll be at the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. From here it’s only about seventy-five miles to Kabspell, but the grades are rather steep. We won’t make very good time.”
“I only hope our airship is there,” said Jerry. “Once we get that together, and in working order, we’ll be independent of grades and railroads.”
As their train was to stop some little time they walked about to vary the monotony of riding in the cars. The professor, of course, no sooner found himself on “terra-cotta,” as Bob expressed it, than he began hunting for specimens.
As the boys entered the station, to look about, they saw sitting in the corner a roughly dressed man, evidently a miner. He had a scar on his face. And Jerry, who was always on the lookout for anyone who might be regarded as an enemy, saw the fellow start as he caught a glimpse of Harvey Brill.
Without seeming to do so, the tall lad whispered to the prospector, calling his attention to the suspicious character, and asking Mr. Brill if he had ever seen him before.
Stealing a casual glance at the stranger, Mr. Brill whispered back:
“Never saw him before, so far as I know. If he’s one of the grub-stakers I don’t know him.”
“Maybe I’m mistaken,” agreed Jerry; “but he seemed some excited when he first got a glimpse of you. I guess it’s all right, though. Anyhow, I hope so.”
He and the others went out of the station, and the man, after a glance at the retreating forms, slid up to the ticket window.
“I guess I’ll change my destination, partner,” he said to the man behind the wicket. “I’ll travel on the Great Northern instead of on the Great Falls. Can you swap tickets for me?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” grumbled the agent. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, only some friends of mine are going that way, and I guess I’ll trail along. I’ve been waiting some time for them to show up, and, now that they’re here I don’t like to lose ’em. Just switch tickets for me.”
And so it came about that, as Jerry and his friends boarded their train again, they were unaware of the fact that the suspicious character—the man with the scar—was riding in the smoking car behind them.
“I guess I’m on the right trail,” murmured the man who had changed his tickets. “It’s him all right, from the description, though I don’t know what he’s doing with them boys, and the little man with the bald head, who seems to be after mosquitoes all the while. And that other chap, too. He’s a Westerner, or I miss my guess. Well, we’ll see what happens,” and he settled himself comfortably back in the seat, and looked at his ticket, which read “Kabspell.”
CHAPTER XIV
IN KABSPELL
“Here you go, Bob, hand me that monkey wrench.”
“It’s right behind you, Jerry. Say, though, I’ve forgotten whether these side planes, or the rear ones, go on first.”
“The rear ones, of course,” spoke Ned. “We won’t put the side planes on until last, and then they won’t interfere. Look out, don’t step in that pile of bolts. I’ve got ’em arranged in the order I want to use ’em.”
“Oh, I won’t,” and the stout lad changed the planes he had taken up, selecting another set.
“Who’s got the hammer?” demanded Jerry, a little later.
“You had it last,” answered Ned.
“I did not. You sang out for it and I fired it over to you.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten. I’ve got it. Now, boys, get a move on, and we’ll soon have her in shape.”
It was the third day after the arrival of our heroes and their friends in the small town of Kabspell, Montana, and they were busy assembling their motorship, which had arrived safely a short time before.
They had secured a boarding place, and had arranged to use an old shed on the outskirts of the town as a “hangar” in which to assemble the parts of their craft. They found everything all right, save that one of the hydroplane floats had been smashed, but a local carpenter had agreed to make another.
The arrival of the lads and the mysterious craft had created no little astonishment in the town, and such a crowd assembled in and about the shed that the motor boys were forced to put up ropes, and hire a man to keep back the throng, so they would have room to work.
“We don’t mind them watching us,” said Jerry; “but we don’t want to step on them all the while, and they will insist on fingering things. First we know, some part will be missing, and then we’ll be in a pretty fix.”
Jim Nestor and Harvey Brill offered their aid in reassembling the motorship, and their services were gladly accepted. One or two mechanics had also been hired to fit the motor and gas machine together, as the boys found themselves pretty well occupied. But, for the most part, the boys did the work themselves. They were familiar with their craft, and knew just how to put it together, having taken it apart several times.
“Is there anything I can do?” inquired Professor Snodgrass, as he entered the shed on the morning when the activities of the lads brought forth the utterances with which I began this chapter. “I’d like to help,” went on the little bald-headed scientist, eagerly.
“No, I guess not,” said Jerry, winking at Ned. “We won’t take you from your researches.”
“Well, then, as long as you don’t want me,” proceeded the “bugologist,” gladly, “I’ll see if I can locate a side-stepping toad. I saw traces of one not long ago.”
“A side-stepping toad!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s a new one.”
“It isn’t good to eat, though, Chunky!” chuckled Ned, taking care to get out of reach of his fat chum.
“But what is it?” asked Bob.
“It’s a toad that moves sideways, like a crab,” explained the scientist. “They are very rare, and only a few museums have them. I shall count myself fortunate if I find one—almost as fortunate as if I get a luminous serpent. By the way, when shall we be able to start for them?”
“In a few days,” replied Jerry; and then the professor went out. “I’m glad he didn’t insist on wanting to help,” he added to Ned.
“That’s right. The last time he did he fitted the exhaust pipe to the gasoline intake, and we’d have had a dandy explosion if we hadn’t seen it in time.”
“And before that,” commented the tall lad, “he had the elevation rudder rigged up so that we’d have shot downward instead of going up. He did it before I found out what he was up to. No, the professor is a fine man, but what he doesn’t know about an airship would fill a few books. Now, Ned, if you’ll give me a hand we’ll connect the gasoline tank to the motor, and then fit up the pilot house controls.”
The boys and their helpers were busily engaged that afternoon when a man, who, somehow, had made his way past the guard, sauntered into the shed.
“When do you fellers calculate on givin’ th’ circus?” he drawled.
“This isn’t a circus,” replied Jerry, hoping the fellow was not going to be annoyingly curious.
“No? Wa’al, you’re goin’ t’ give an exhibition; aren’t you?”
“Oh, we’ll let the people see us fly, of course, when we get ready,” answered the tall lad, good-naturedly.
“Fly? Do you really mean t’ say you folks are goin’ up in that thing?” asked the man, incredulously.
“Well, we’ve done it many times before this, and if all goes right we’ll do it again,” spoke Ned.
“Great Peter!” cried the man. “I thought it was only a model t’ look at. An’ you’re really goin’ t’ fly?”
“We sure are,” said Jerry. “Here, Ned, just hold this bolt, while I tighten the nut, will you?”
“What does this handle do?” asked the man, as he pulled one of the many levers.
“That works the elevating rudder,” replied Jerry. “Please don’t touch it.”
“All right,” agreed the man, good-naturedly. “But what are you folks aimin’ t’ do when you do get your shebang together?”
It was the question the boys had been anticipating ever since they arrived in Kabspell, and they were ready for it.
“Did you see that small man—the one with no hair on his head?” asked Jerry, with a wink at his chums.
“The one I passed as I was comin’ in? Yes, I saw him.”
“Well, he wants to get a lot of queer bugs—insects—snakes and the like,” went on Jerry. “He’s a professor in a big college—a bug collector. We’re with him.”
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed the man, as if much disappointed. “I calculated you were prospectors, or something like that.”
“Why, is there gold out here?” asked Jerry, as innocently as he could.
“Wa’al, there is for them as knows where it is,” spoke the man with a sharp look at the boys and the two Westerners. But our friends did not betray themselves—at least they hoped they did not.
The work went on apace, and soon the inquisitive man was peering about at another part of the airship.
“What’s this wheel for?” he asked. As he spoke he gave it a turn, and at once a series of thunderous explosions followed—like a battery of machine guns going off.
“Great Peter!” cried the man, and with one jump he leaped through an open window of the shed, and, running across the field, he yelled:
“She’s going to blow up! Skedaddle, everybody!”
The crowd, which was always assembled about the shed, turned to flee, but the explosions suddenly ceased.
“What was it?” cried Bob, seeing that there was no danger. He and Ned had run for the engine room, in which Jerry had been working when the man meddled with the wheel.
“Oh, that fellow started the motor, and the muffler wasn’t attached,” answered the tall lad. “No damage done. I stopped her in time. But maybe it will teach him a lesson.”
It seemed to, for the fellow did not come back. Instead, he went to a certain resort in the town, and there he met a man with a long scar on his face—a livid scar.
“Well, did you find out anything?” asked the man with the scar. “Did you get next, Ike Weldon?”
“All I found out, Jake Paxton, was that they’re hunting for bugs—as if they couldn’t get enough without lookin’ for ’em. That’s what they told me, and then th’ shebang blew up!”
“Blew up—how?”
“Well, I monkeyed with it, I guess,” and Ike Weldon told of the results of his visit.
“Say, you’re a pretty one to send to get information!” exclaimed Jake, with contempt. “I thought you knew your business!”
“I do. They’re after bugs, I tell you!”
“I don’t believe it. They wouldn’t come away out here with an airship for that. I’ll have to fix up some sort of a disguise and go myself. They saw me at the Junction, where I changed my ticket, and they might know me. But I’m sure that’s the man we want to keep track of—that biggest Westerner. I’ll go around there myself to-morrow.”
“Well, don’t go to handling anything, or you might get blown up too,” advised his crony. “Hello!” he exclaimed, suddenly. “Here comes that other chap from the East—the one who arrived a few days ago—Nixon his name is. Maybe he knows something about these chaps.”
“I’ll see if I can get him to talk,” remarked Jake. “I think I’m on the right trail, and just as soon as some of the other boys get here I’ll make sure of it. They know Harvey Brill, and I don’t—only by description. Yes, I’ll see what I can get out of this Nixon chap.”