Part 43 (1/2)

”No. I am beginning to think the rascal has gone over to the K. & Z.,”

said the superintendent, turning away. At the door he paused. ”By the way, Ward, remind me to give you a message to-morrow morning asking for two more operators. We will have made six or seven miles by Monday night, and will be running the train down the branch. And the temporary station is almost completed,” he added, glancing from the window toward a box-car which had been lifted from its trucks and placed on a foundation of ties beside the main-line tracks.

Alex promised gladly. It meant the coming of Jack Orr and Wilson Jennings.

Following breakfast, the morning being a beautiful one, Alex determined on a walk, and set off along the main-line to the west. Two miles distant he struck a small bridge and a deep, dry creek-bed, and turning south along its border, headed for the distant rail-head of the new branch.

At a bend in the creek some two hundred yards from the track-machine and its string of flat-cars, Alex sharply paused. Two saddled ponies were hobbled together in the creek-bottom. Casting a glance toward the construction-train, Alex leaped into the gully, out of sight.

He had not a doubt that the horses belonged to men in the service of the K. & Z., and that something was on foot similar to the attempted burning of the bridge-car.

What should he do? Return the three miles to the junction? or continue on to the track-machine? For undoubtedly the owners of the horses were there; and the machine, he knew, was in the sole charge of an oiler.

Alex decided on the latter course, and making his way along the bed of the stream, pa.s.sed the hobbled ponies, and on to the new bridge fifty feet in rear of the construction-train.

As he there halted, low voices reached Alex's ears. Peering cautiously out, and seeing no one, he crept forth, and made his way along the side of the embankment toward the train. A few feet from the rear car Alex came upon a three-wheeled track velocipede, used by Elder, the superintendent's clerk in running backwards and forwards between the rail-head and the junction. Pausing, he debated whether he should not put it on the rails, and make a run for the junction immediately. Finally Alex concluded first to learn something further of what was going on, and to count on the velocipede as a means of making his escape in case of emergency. To this end he proceeded cautiously to place the little jigger in a position from which he could quickly swing it onto the irons. Then continuing forward under the edge of the train, he reached the pilot-car.

”Yes; it's a first cla.s.s machine--the best on the market.”

The voice was that of the oiler. Apparently he had been showing the strangers over the track-machine. For a brief s.p.a.ce Alex wondered whether after all his suspicions were justified. But at once came the thought, ”Why had the strangers hidden their horses in the creek-bottom if they were genuine visitors?” and he remained quiet.

”Where is the boiler?” inquired a new voice, evidently one of the owners of the horses.

”There is none. The steam comes from the engine, behind,” the oiler responded. ”Here--it comes in here.”

”So! And does the machine get out of order very easily?” asked a second voice.

There was something in the tone that caused Alex to p.r.i.c.k up his ears.

”Almost never. It's all simple. Nothing intricate,” the man in charge replied.

”I suppose it could be put out of order, though--say, you fellows were to go on strike, and wanted to disable things? Eh?”

”Huh! That's rather a funny question. But I suppose it could. Anything could, for that matter.”

”What do they pay you, as oiler?”

”Say, what are you two fellows driving at?” the oiler demanded sharply.

There was a momentary silence, during which Alex imagined the two strangers looking questioningly at one another. Then one of them spoke.

”Look here, whatever you get, we will give you a hundred dollars a month extra to put this machine out of order two or three times a week. Nothing very bad, but just enough to lose two or three hours' work each time. We are--well, never mind who we are. The thing stands this way: We have a big bet on that the K. & Z. will win in this building race for Yellow Creek, and--well, you see the point, I guess. What do you say?”

During the pause that followed Alex waited breathlessly, and with growing disappointment. Was the oiler considering the bribe?

”Well,” said the oiler at length, ”is that your best offer? Couldn't you make it a thousand?”

”A thousand! Nonsense--”

”Two thousand, then.”

”What do you mean--”