Part 45 (1/2)

From a trouser pocket Alex drew out a large jack-knife. With a suspicion of trembling he opened one of the blades and examined it, while the owner regarded him curiously. With a shake of the head the young operator opened the second blade. A quick smile of triumph lit up his face, and delving into a vest pocket, he brought forth a sc.r.a.p of paper, unfolded it, and took out a fragment of charred pine shaving.

Turning his back on the now anxiously watching, though still puzzled, owner of the knife, he held the shaving against the edge of the blade.

The superintendent bent over it, and uttered a delighted ”Exactly!”

Triumphantly Alex turned toward the prisoner, and held the hand with the knife and shaving before him. ”Does this help you to recall what K. & Z.

means?” he asked.

”Recall? I don't--”

”See these two little ridges on the shaving? See these two little nicks in the blade?”

With a hoa.r.s.e cry the man flung himself backward, and bound as he was, began struggling like a madman. Alex, the superintendent and the Indian were to the oiler's a.s.sistance in a twinkle, however, and a few minutes later saw the renegade in their midst on the way to the boarding train--and, as it finally proved, to the jail at Exeter.

”I don't know who to thank most,” said Superintendent Finnan later--”you, Ward, or the oiler, or Little Hawk. Nor what appreciation to suggest higher up.”

”You might make it a blanket and Winchester for the Indian, and a purse for the oiler, for the knocks he got and the bribe he refused,” Alex suggested.

”And yourself?”

”Oh, just let me keep the rascal's knife, as a memento,” responded Alex modestly.

”Very well; we'll agree on that--for the present,” said the superintendent.

XX

A PRISONER

When the early-morning mail train stopped at Yellow Creek Junction on Tuesday, Alex was at the little box-car station to greet Jack Orr and Wilson Jennings. Jack, who had not met Wilson before the latter boarded the train at Bonepile, had taken a liking to the easterner at once, and confided to Alex that he was ”the real goods,” despite the ”streak of dude.”

”We ought to have some good times together,” Jack predicted, as, with lively interest, he and Wilson accompanied Alex back toward the nondescript but businesslike-looking boarding-train.

Jack's hope, as far as it concerned the three boys being together, was soon shattered. As they reached the telegraph-car, Superintendent Finnan appeared, and having cordially shaken hands with Jack and Wilson, turned to Alex. ”Ward,” he said, ”I have just decided to send you on to the Antelope viaduct. A courier has brought word from Norton, the engineer in charge, that trouble appears to be brewing amongst his Italian laborers, and I would like to get in direct touch with him. The telegraph line was strung within two miles of the bridge yesterday, and should reach Norton's camp to-day. How soon could you start?”

”As soon as I have breakfast, sir,” responded Alex, stifling his disappointment. ”It's twenty miles there, isn't it, Mr. Finnan? How am I to go?”

”You can ride a horse?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Elder will have a pony here for you by the time you are ready. And you had better take an extra blanket with you,” advised the superintendent as he turned away. ”You will be living in a tent, you know.”

Half an hour later Alex, mounted on a spirited little cow-pony, with a few necessities in a sweater, strapped to the saddle, and a blanket over his shoulder, army fas.h.i.+on, waved a good-by to Jack and Wilson, and was off over the prairie at a lope, following the telegraph poles.

It was a beautiful morning, and with the sun s.h.i.+ning and the sparkling air brus.h.i.+ng his cheeks and tingling in his nostrils, Alex quickly forgot his disappointment at being so quickly separated from Jack and Wilson, and soon was enjoying every minute of his ride. Keeping on steadily at a hand-gallop, before he realized he had covered half the distance, he came upon the wire-stringing and pole-erecting gangs. A half mile farther, a long, dark break appeared in the plain, and a m.u.f.fled din of pounding began to reach him. And pus.h.i.+ng ahead, Alex drew up on the brink of a wide, deep gully, from either side of which reached out a great wooden frame, dotted with busy men.

It was the bed of the old Antelope river, which years before had changed its course, and which the railroad finally proposed crossing with a permanent fill.

Directly below, in a group of shrubby trees on the border of the stony creek which alone remained of the river, was a village of white tents.