Part 2 (1/2)

”Every word of it,” said Alex, earnestly. ”And I would have heard all about it at the station if they had intended cutting your wages, or bringing others here to take your places.”

”Den I believe it,” said the Pole.

The man with the pistol returned it to his pocket. ”I am sorry I shoot,”

he said.

”And now, what about the train?” inquired the foreman, quickly. ”Did you touch the switch?”

In the look of guilt the foreigners turned on one another he saw the alarming answer. Whipping out his watch, he held it to the light.

”Alex,” he said, sharply, ”you have just ten minutes to catch that train at the Junction! If you don't get her she's gone! There's not time now to get down to the main line from here to flag her!”

Before he had ceased speaking Alex had his cap over the light and was once more flas.h.i.+ng an urgent ”BX! BX! BX!” while below the foreigners looked on, now with an anxiety equal to that of the two on the tower.

”BX! Qk! Qk!” flashed the lantern.

The station light disappeared. ”Got 'em!” cried Alex.

”Just tell them first to stop Twenty at the Junction,” said the foreman.

”Right,” responded Alex, and while the rest watched in profound silence, he signaled:

”STOP NUMBER 20 AT JUNCTION. SPUR SWITCH IS THROWN. GOT IT?”

As Alex read off the promptly flashed ”OK,” the foreman sprang to his feet and gave vent to a joyful hurrah of relief that echoed again in the clearing and woods. Then, as Alex recovered the lantern, he caught him under one arm, carried him down the ladder, and there, despite his objections, hoisted him to the shoulders of two of the now enthusiastic Poles, and all set off jubilantly down the spur for the switch, and home.

And an hour later Alex's father and mother, anxiously awaiting him at the station, discovered his approach carried at the head of a sort of triumphal procession of the entire gang of trackmen.

When Alex's father the following morning reported the occurrence to the chief despatcher, that official called Alex to the wire to congratulate him personally.

”That was a fine bit of work, my boy,” he clicked. ”I see you are cut out for the right kind of railroader. If fourteen wasn't a bit too young I would give you a job on the spot. But we will give you a start just as soon as we can, you may be sure.”

II

AN ORIGINAL EMERGENCY BATTERY

One afternoon two weeks later Alex returned from school to find his father and mother hurriedly packing his suit-case.

”Why, what's up, Dad?” he exclaimed.

”You are off for Watson Siding in twenty minutes, to take charge of the station there nights,” said his father. ”The regular man is ill, the despatcher had no one else to send, and asked for you, and of course I told him you'd be delighted.”

”Delighted? Well, rather!” cried Alex, gleefully, and throwing his school-books into a corner, he dashed up-stairs to change his clothes, hastily ate a lunch his mother had prepared, and fifteen minutes later was hurrying for the depot.

Needless to say Alex was a proud boy when shortly after seven o'clock he reached Watson Siding, and at once took over the station for the night.

For it is not often a lad of fourteen is given such responsibility, even though brought up on the railroad.

Alex was soon to learn that the responsibility was a very real one. The first night pa.s.sed pleasantly enough, but early the succeeding night, following a day of rain, a heavy spring fog set in, and shortly before ten o'clock Alex found, to his alarm, that he could not make himself heard on the wire by the despatcher. Evidently there was a heavy escape of current between them, because of the dampness.