Part 28 (2/2)
But Mr. Ellis was already in the boat, revolver in hand, and three seconds later he and Benny were pulling for all they were worth towards the s.h.i.+vering swimmers, who crouched on the resting-place, unconscious of why they must remain there, or what danger threatened.
Very little was said until Benny and his dad had them safely in the boat, and had rowed them round the rock and pointed silently at the bear and cubs, which still lapped the water at the edge of the beach. As she caught sight of the boat, the mother growled sullenly, and her red tongue dripped saliva as she started for them until she was breast high in the water. But strong arms pulled the boat out far beyond danger, and the tragedy that might have been was averted by a boy's invention and quick wit. It was very late when the Ellis family had supper that night, but Mrs. Ellis did not mind the broken and scattered dishes when she saw what a rescue Benny had accomplished. They all talked until they were tired, just as the McKenzie boys talked at their camp. Later Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie rowed across the lake in the dark, to tell their grat.i.tude to Benny and his father. But Mr. Ellis would have none of it. ”You just owe it to Benny, here,” he laughed. ”But what he did with that white tablecloth beats me.”
”That's part of my signal code,” said the boy, a little shyly. ”I invented it; it's our Scout Society Code, but I don't mind telling you, after all this, that three circles of any white cloth above one's head means 'Danger,' five circles means 'Great Danger,' and a toss from one hand to the other up through the air means 'Don't move. Stay where you are.'”
”Well, I never knew that child's play would save my boys' lives,” said Mr. McKenzie gratefully. ”I knew these kiddies had some fool 'code' they played at, but this beats me, as well as you.”
”It's no 'fool' code, friend Mack,” answered the engineer. ”It's what an engine whistle or the swing of a lantern is to us trainmen, and I'm glad our boys play at something so sensible. It's a mighty good thing once in a while, as we saw to-day--this 'Signal Code.'”
It was late in September when the little colony on the lake struck camp and pulled into town. The hunting season was well on, and sportsmen were out after deer and partridge, and Benny and his friends had been fortunate enough to shoot two birds and a jack rabbit. This, of course, meant that every Sat.u.r.day they took to the woods, with the one little shotgun the crowd possessed, for in the wild, new railway districts it is a good thing for boys to learn to be good shots while yet young.
Often in the s...o...b..und winters meat is scarce, and one's food is frequently the result of being a dead shot, so guns in the hands of boys of ten and twelve are nothing unusual. One wonderful autumn day six of ”the gang” had prowled the forest for hours, and had succeeded in bugging some plump partridges, and late in the afternoon they all sprawled out in the Indian summer suns.h.i.+ne, finis.h.i.+ng the remnants of their luncheon, and looking about the marvellous cavern that, formed by the pine-crowned hills, lay like a cup at their feet. In and out wound the railroad track, a lonely, isolated bit of man's handiwork threading through the vastness of nature. It was the only sign of human life visible, until, after a long, lazy hour, Benny sat up staring with round eyes into the valley below. A thin scarf of blue smoke was indolently curling up from a spot apparently in the forest. He called the attention of the boys to it, and for want of something else to do they lay and watched it. Presently a puff arose more rapidly. Then another.
”That's a real fire, sure enough,” said Benny. ”Bet you it will burn among the timber for a month this dry season.”
”Doesn't look among the timber,” said another boy. ”Looks as if it was along the track.”
”Let's go down there and see,” said someone else, and forthwith ”the gang” scrambled to their feet, grabbed their gun and ammunition bag and birds, and proceeded to slip and slide and scramble down the steeps, until a half-hour brought them to the railroad, along which they ran towards the direction from where they had seen the smoke. They ran through a big cut, rounded an abrupt curve, and dashed right into a cloud of smoke, while the crackle of flame spit and sparkled, bringing them up short with speechless horror. The huge, wooden railroad trestle spanning Whitefish Creek was in flames. For an instant the entire gang gazed at it dumbly. Then a boy yelled:
”Great Scott, fellows, isn't it good there's no train due? She'd plunge round this curve right into it.”
Then Benny Ellis went white. ”Who's got a watch?” he asked very quietly.
”My Ingersoll says five-fifteen, and she's right, too,” replied Joe McKenzie.
Benny gulped; he seemed to find a difficulty in speaking, but the words finally came. ”My dad went down to Grey's Point to bring up a special to-night, the Divisional Superintendent's private car and some fast freight. They're--they're--they're due about now.”
”Thanks be! Grey's Point is this side of the trestle. We can stop them,”
shouted Joe, and without argument ”the gang” turned, tearing at a breakneck pace around the curve, and through the cut, in a hopeless effort to make their home town before the special reached it.
Breathlessly they ran for ten minutes, stumbling along the sleepers, recovering, then forging ahead, until, cutting the evening air, came a long, thin whistle, and immediately afterwards the black nose of an engine and a ribbon of smoke rounded a distant curve, and came bearing down on them at the rate of forty-five miles an hour.
”The gang” paused, standing rock still for an instant, then five of them danced up and down, waving their arms wildly, to signal the train to stop. But the sixth boy--Benny Ellis--white as a sheet, was tearing madly at his collar, and dragging off his coat. Then quick as a flash he skinned from his narrow shoulders his blue cotton s.h.i.+rt, faded almost white by the summer suns, and das.h.i.+ng down the track towards the oncoming engine, whirled it high above his head in five distinct circles, while his young voice, hoa.r.s.e with a frenzy of fear, shrieked, ”Father, father! Oh, dad, try to remember. Try, try!”
And from the cab of the great mogul, Engineer Ellis was peering out with his keen eyes piercing the track ahead, his hand at the throttle.
”Jim,” he called abruptly to his fireman. There was something in his tone that made Jim fling himself to the window. Then both men exclaimed simultaneously, ”It's a hold-up.”
”There's six of them, and one's got a gun,” gasped the engineer. ”We'll have to crowd on steam and rush them, unless they've wrecked the track.”
Then, as the huge iron monster lifted itself to greater speed, Mr. Ellis saw something like a white flag wave in the air then fall. Once more it circled, one, two, three, four, five times above someone's head, fell again, then was tossed from one hand high in the air and caught in the other.
”Jim, I've seen that signal somewhere. It means something.” Then, like a photograph, he seemed to see a lake, two boys swimming, and a black bear and cubs on a far sh.o.r.e, while Benny's voice rang in his ears: ”Five circles means 'Great danger,' and a toss from one hand to the other up through the air means 'Don't move; stay where you are.'”
”It's the boys, Jim,” gasped the engineer. ”There's something wrong.”
Before the words had left his lips the shrill whistle was shrieking for ”brakes”--”double brakes” at that--and the gigantic engine almost leaped from the rails as the halter was thrown about her neck. On she rushed, slipping, grinding, rocking in her restraint. The train crew and pa.s.sengers in the rear car pitched almost on their faces with the violent checking of speed, until, snorting and pulsing and belching, the great mogul came to a standstill.
”Oh, daddy, you _did_ remember, you _did_, after all!” cried a very white-faced little boy who peered up into the cab window with horrified eyes, while his naked shoulders heaved, and his hand clutched a torn, faded blue s.h.i.+rt.
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