Part 18

At a steady jog Alex kept on for several miles over the dimly-lit plain. Then the moon finally disappeared, and he fell into a rapid walk. Some time later he halted in alarm. Was he going in the right direction? On every hand was a wall of darkness, and overhead not a star was to be seen.

He moved on, and again halted to debate the situation. Certainly, for the time being, he was lost. What should he do? Remain where he was till daylight? or go ahead, and take the chance of circuiting back? He decided to continue.

Perhaps an hour later, still pushing ahead, Alex strode full tilt into a barb-wire fence. As he staggered back a second cry broke from him. Had he circled back to Munson's corral?

His heart in his throat, he felt hurriedly along the top wire to a post, and reached upward. A gasp of relief greeted the discovery that the top of the post was well within his reach. The corral posts were not less than eight or nine feet, with wires to the top.

A further cheering idea followed. On the ride to the Antelope viaduct he had noted a three-wire fence similar to this paralleling the right-of-way for several miles. Perhaps this was the same fence?

If he only knew its direction!

Dropping to the ground for a brief rest, Alex set his brains at recalling every bit of woods or plains lore he had ever heard or read of for the telling of direction.

It was a puff of air against his cheek that suggested the answer.

The prevailing wind! What was it here?

Southwest!

In a moment he was on his knees at the foot of the adjacent fence-post.

On the farther side, half covering the dead grass, was a small eddy of sand!

Hopefully Alex hastened to the next post. _The same!_

To make doubly sure, he tried the third, and with an exulting, "_The same again!_" started to his feet, and struck on, whistling gaily, confident he was heading due north, and that this was the same fence he had seen along the new embankment.

A further cheering thought occurred to the young operator presently. The construction-train should not be far from the stretch of road which paralleled the fence!

Onward he pushed through the darkness at a steady, swinging gait, feeling frequently for the fence, to make sure he was not wandering.

For what seemed several hours Alex had been walking, when a faint light appeared in the sky. It was to his right. His plainsmanship had not put him amiss.

As the light brightened he gazed anxiously ahead. The ragged, thin-posted fence stretched unbroken to the northern horizon. He had hoped the light would reveal the swing to the east, and the dark shape of the construction-train.

Alex continued steadily ahead, however, buoying up his lagging energies with pictures of a hot, appetizing meal and a pleasant meeting with Jack and the rest of his friends on the train. And finally, when the sun had been some time above the horizon, he uttered a shout. Far in front, but distinct in the beautifully clear air, the fence turned abruptly to the east. And less than a mile sun-ward was a long dark shape and columns of smoke rising lazily into the air.

Scrambling through the fence, Alex set off on a bee-line for the train, whistling a brisk march.

Five minutes later the whistler paused in the middle of a note and spun sharply about. The color left his bronzed face. A mile to the rear, on the other side of the fence, a horseman was following him at full speed. A glance at the white-faced pony told it was Munson, and turning, Alex was off, running with every ounce of his remaining energy.

The thud of the hoofs gained rapidly.

Closer they came, and Alex headed off farther from the fence. Perhaps he'll be afraid to put the horse at the wire, he thought hopefully. He glanced back. The cowman was wheeling off for the jump.

In despair Alex looked over the long mile still separating him from the train, and again over his shoulder. Would the horse make it? He slightly slowed his steps as the animal made the rush.

It went over like a bird.

Gritting his teeth, Alex dashed straight back for the fence. "I'll make him jump his head off before he gets me, anyway," he said grimly. Flogging the pony, the cowman endeavored to head the boy off, but Alex reached the wire, and dove safely through. Scrambling to his feet, he was on again, this time keeping closer to the fence.

It was as the pony drew up abreast fifty feet distant, and while the train was still a good mile away, that the idea of signalling for help on the fence-wire occurred to Alex. He acted immediately. Catching up a good-sized stone, he ran forward, and on the topmost wire, near one of the posts, pounded with all his might the telegraph dot letters "_Oh! Oh! Orr! Orr!_"

Munson had pulled up as Alex ran for the fence. When the boy began pounding the wire he at once recognized its purpose, and sprang from his horse, drawing his pistol.

Instantly Alex darted on, carrying the stone. The cowman ran after. But the man was slow on his feet, and despite his fatigue, Alex drew away from him.

"Stop, or I'll shoot!" cried the cow-puncher. "_Pull up! I will!_"

"Go ahead, and they'll hear you at the train!" called Alex, though secretly trembling. The cowman hesitated, then returned the revolver to its holster, and ran back for his horse. Immediately Alex was again at the wire, pounding out, "_Oh! Oh! Orr! Orr!_"

The cowman was again up with him, and once more he ran on, gazing anxiously toward the train for signs of commotion to show his appeal had been heard.

For some distance the strange race continued, the cowman, angry and puzzled, on one side of the fence, Alex keeping close to the wires on the other, in readiness to dodge under should his pursuer jump.

Finally the rider again swung off, and headed in at a gallop. Grimly Alex halted. With a rush the horse came directly toward him. Waiting until it was within a few yards of him, he dropped to his knees, and crawled half way through the fence.

It was his undoing. Straight at him the horseman came, as though to jump. Then suddenly the rider whirled broadside, leaned from the saddle, and before Alex, wildly scrambling, could withdraw, had him firmly by the hair. By main force the cowboy dragged his prisoner through the fence, and upright beside him.

With a half-stifled sob Alex lurched limply against the pony's shoulders. "Never mind, kid," said the cowman not unkindly. "You made a good fight of it. You did your best. But I had to do my best too.

"If you'll give me your word to go quiet, I'll let you ride behind me," he added. "Promise?"

Alex cast a last look back toward the construction-train. A few figures were moving about, slowly. Clearly his signals had not been heard.

"All right," he said wearily, and with some difficulty mounting behind the cowboy, they were off the weary way he had come.

* * * * *

Jack, at the construction-train, rose late that morning. He had been up nearly all night, awaiting news from the viaduct search-party, which throughout the entire day had been scouring the nearby country for his unaccountably missing chum. As he emerged from the telegraph-car door he found the Indian, Little Hawk, on the adjoining steps of the store-car.

"Good morning, Mr. Little Hawk," he said. "Sunning yourself?"

"I wait for you. I hear noise--knock," the Indian said.

"Knock, like little tick-knock in car," he added as Jack regarded him, mystified.

"Tick-knock? What do you mean?"

"On fence," said the Indian stolidly. "Hearum twice. Like dis:" And while Jack's eyes opened wide, with a stone he held in his hand the Indian tapped on the iron hand-rail of the car the telegraph words, "Oh--Oh--Orr."

In a moment Jack was on the ground before him, all excitement. "Where? Where did you hear it?" he cried.

"Fence. Sleep dar," said the Indian, pointing to the nearby fence. "No t'ink much about. Den see horse run--way dar. Den t'ink tick-knock, an' come you."

Uttering a shrill shout Jack was off on the jump to find Superintendent Finnan. And fifteen minutes later the superintendent, Little Hawk, and one of the foremen, mounted, were away on the gallop along the ranch fence toward the point at which the Indian had seen the disappearing horseman.

* * * * *

Alex was thoroughly exhausted when he found himself once more at the ranch. Slipping to the ground, he entered the cabin of his own accord, and threw himself dejectedly upon the couch.

"You've near spoiled a dinged fine rope," observed Munson, following him, and kicking at the lariat, still stretched across the floor. "Oh, well, I can take it out of the K. & Z.

"Now for some breakfast. Suppose you don't feel too bad to grub, eh? Though you sure don't deserve none."

As on the previous morning, Alex and his jailer were near the conclusion of the meal when hoofbeats again told of the approach of a visitor. Going to the door, the cowman announced "Bennet."

"So that's his name, is it?" said Alex quickly.

"What? Did I say--Well, let it go. I don't see that it makes much difference. Yes, Bennet's his name.

"And mighty lucky thing I have you back here," he added over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Mr. Bennet," he said. "Caught us at breakfast again."

"Breakfast! What are you doing at breakfast this time of day?" inquired the K. & Z. man, entering. When the cowman explained, the newcomer glowered at Alex threateningly. "Why didn't you shoot?" he demanded.

"Too near the train. They would have heard it," responded Munson.

"Well, clear off the table. I have something I want to show you," said Bennet, producing what looked like a map from his pocket.

"And you get off to a corner," he snarled at Alex. "Why isn't he tied up?" he demanded of the cowboy.

"He agreed to a twenty-four hours' truce--not to make another break in that time," the cowman answered as he swept their few dishes into the cupboard.

Bennet's lip curled under his moustache. "And you believe him, eh?"

There was a suggestion of tartness in the cowman's prompt "Sure! He rode behind me all the way back, on his word not to attempt anything, and kept it. Could have pulled my own gun on me if he'd wanted to."

"The more fool," muttered the railroad man as he spread the roll of paper on the table.

Alex meantime had stepped to the window from which he had taken the fragment of glass, and was disconsolately watching a half dozen hens scratching about below.

Lifting his eyes, he glanced out over the plain. The men at the table heard a sharply-indrawn breath. It was immediately changed into a low whistling, however, and they gave their attention again to the map.

Alex had discovered three horsemen heading for the ranch from the north. And the leading pony he would have known in a hundred. It was Little Hawk's heavily-mottled horse.

That they were coming to his assistance--that someone had heard the knocking on the wire--he had not a doubt.

The horsemen were still some distance out of hearing. Ceasing the whistling, Alex glanced casually toward the table. Seated in chairs, the two men were still deeply engrossed in the plan before them, talking in low voices.

When on turning back to the window Alex recognized the second horseman as Superintendent Finnan, he shot a further glance toward the K. & Z. man at the table, and a smile of anticipation and delight overspread his face.

Then suddenly it occurred to him that in a few minutes the hoofbeats of the on-coming horses would be heard, and that Bennet would have time to get to the door and escape.

He must halt his rescuers, and signal them to approach on foot!

A moment Alex thought, then casually remarking to the cowman, "I'm going to open the window. It's hot," unlatched and swung the sash inward. The move passed unnoticed, and leaning out he pretended to call the chickens.

What he was in reality doing was energetically waving his handkerchief backwards and forwards below, making the railroad "stop" signal.

The horsemen came on. If they came much farther they would be heard!

He paused, and waved again, more energetically. The third horseman pulled up. Quickly Alex followed with the signal to "come ahead with caution." The rear pony spurred forward, pulled up beside the second, and apparently at a call, the Indian also halted. On Alex repeating the last signal, all dismounted, and he knew he had been understood.

Leaving their horses where they were, the three men came on at a quick walk. Alex, continuing to talk to the hens, could scarcely contain his secret delight.

When his rescuers were within a hundred yards of the cabin, he once more signalled caution, and they continued stealthily, revolvers in hand.

They reached the corner of the house, unheard by the men at the table. The superintendent raised his eyebrows questioningly. Alex glanced over his shoulder, and nodded sharply. The next moment there was a rush of feet without, and all in a twinkle Bennet and the cowman were out of their chairs, at the door, and staggering back before three threatening revolvers. Staring open-mouthed, they brought up beside the overturned table.

Alex's words were the first. "These were the chickens I was calling, Mr. Bennet," he remarked gleefully. The K. & Z. man recovered himself and turned on the boy, white with passion. He was stopped by an exclamation from Finnan. "Bennet! George Bennet! What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps this will explain, sir," said Alex, handing over the map, which he had caught up during the excitement. Bennet made a frantic move to intercept him, but promptly Little Hawk's revolver was in his face, and he sank back into a chair, gritting his teeth.

"A plan showing every bridge and culvert on our line, and directions for blowing them all up, simultaneously! Well--" Words failed the superintendent.

"And this is what you have come to, Bennet? I'd never have believed it!"

There was a second awkward silence, when Superintendent Finnan suddenly broke it with, "Look here. I've got you now, haven't I? I've got you where I can put you in jail for a year or so at least. Well, instead of doing that, I'll make you a proposition:

"Drop all this kind of work; guarantee that there will be no more of it--agree to make it a straight, square building race between your road and mine, the first one to reach the Pass to win--guarantee that, and I'll let you go.

"Do you agree?"

Bennet rose to his feet and held out his hand. "I'll give you my solemn word, Finnan.

"And--and I'm awfully sorry I ever consented to go into this kind of thing," the K. & Z. man went on, a quaver in his voice. "But it was put up to me, and when I'd taken the first step, I thought I'd have to carry it through."

He turned to Alex. "I'm sorry for the way you have been treated, my lad. You are a plucky boy, and straight. You keep on as you have, and you'll never find yourself in the position I am.

"I offered him two hundred dollars cash and a hundred a month to keep his mouth quiet," the speaker explained to the superintendent, "and he refused it."

"How about the Antelope viaduct, Mr. Finnan?" Alex asked as they rode away, he on one of Munson's loaned ponies. "It wasn't blown up?"

"No, but an attempt of some kind was made. Rather a mysterious affair," the superintendent said. "Late last night an Italian of the fill gang was seen stealing to one of the main foundations, then kicking and tearing something to pieces. Norton followed him, and found some fuses, and fragments of paper that had been wrapped about some strange kind of explosive, which apparently had failed to ignite. The Italian has not been seen since."

Alex was chuckling. "I think I can guess why that 'strange explosive' failed to go off, sir," he said. "It was clay." And continuing, he explained the mystery in detail. Superintendent Finnan laughed heartily.

"Well, Ward, you are certainly due a vote of thanks," he declared seriously. "You saved the viaduct, and now you probably have brought about the ending of the entire trouble with the K. & Z. people. I'll not fail to turn in a thorough report of it."

XXII

THE DEFENSE OF THE VIADUCT

Thanks to the termination of the interference from the opposition road, the work on the extension progressed rapidly, and two weeks later found the rail-head seven miles beyond the Antelope viaduct, in the lower slopes of the Dog Rib Mountains. The coveted pass to the Yellow Creek gold-field lay but eight miles distant, and as the K. & Z. was still twenty miles east, it appeared certain that the Middle Western would win the great race.

The time had passed uneventfully with the three young telegraphers, the end of the second week finding Alex and Jack together with the construction-train at the rail-head, and Wilson Jennings back at the temporary station and material-sidings at the viaduct.

Perhaps the last few days had passed least interestingly with Wilson, alone in his little box-car station, not far from the old river-bed. Saturday had seemed particularly slow, for some reason, and shortly after 8 o'clock Wilson threw aside a book he had been reading, and catching up his hat, made for the door, for a brief stroll, previous to retiring.

The moon was momentarily showing through a break in the cloudy sky, and looking to the west, Wilson was somewhat surprised to discover the figures of two men approaching. When as he watched they reached the first of a train of tie-cars, and leaving the rails, continued forward in the shadows, Wilson stepped back, in disquiet.

The strangers came opposite, and paused, looking toward the station window and speaking in subdued voices. Convinced that something was afoot, the young operator turned quickly, and stooping low, that his shadow might not be seen on the window, crept to the little instrument table and reached for the telegraph key. He opened, and pressed it down. The sounder did not respond. He tried again, adjusting the relay, and turned about in genuine alarm.

The wire had been cut! Some mischief was surely afoot.

From without came the crunch of stealthy footsteps. Springing to his bunk, Wilson secured his revolver and belt--the same taken from the would-be bullion thief he had captured at Bonepile--and stealing to the rear door, slipped out and to the ground just as the strangers approached the opposite side of the little car-depot.

The car was raised on a foundation of ties, and as the two men entered, Wilson crept beneath.

"No one here," said a gruff voice. "Say, do you s'pose he saw us, and sneaked?"

"Like as not. I told you to keep to the rails and come straight up," chided the other.

"Perhaps he will come back. We're in charge of the station anyway. That was the real thing."

Wilson waited to hear no more. Creeping forth, he stole off toward the ravine, intending to get out of sight in its shadows.

A short distance from the head of the viaduct was the green light of a small target-switch. The head of the downward path lay just beyond, and Wilson headed for the light. He reached it, and passed on.

Abruptly he halted and turned about. Like an inspiration had come the remembrance of Alex Ward's signalling feat two years before at Bixton, of which he had heard from Jack Orr. Could he not do the same? Try and signal Alex or Jack, at the construction-train? Say, from one of the box-cars at the farther corner of the yard?

Casting a glance toward the little station to assure himself that all was quiet there, Wilson retraced his steps to the switch, removed the lantern, and tucking it under his coat, was off between the material-cars for the farthermost corner of the sidings.

The outermost car was a box-car. Climbing the ladder, with his handkerchief Wilson tied the lantern to the topmost rung, the red light out, and using his hat just as Alex had done, began flashing the call of the construction-train,

"KX, KX, V! KX, KX, V!"

* * * * *

Since the construction-train had started from Yellow Creek Junction it had been a center of attraction to coyotes for fifty miles around, and one of the few recreations enjoyed by the men of the train had been hunting them at night.

This Saturday night Alex and Jack, borrowing Winchesters from other members of the telegraph-car party, had set out for a "couple of good rugs," as they put it, and on leaving the train had headed east, toward the aqueduct, in which direction they had heard barks of the midnight prowlers.

They had gone perhaps three miles, and had fired on several of the wily animals, without success, when suddenly Jack caught Alex by the arm and pointed away to the east.

"Look, Al! What's that?"

"Why, it looks like--It is! It's a signal light!

"And calling us--KX!" cried Alex. "Something must be wrong with Wilson!"

"What'll we do? Back to the train?"

"Have you a match and some paper?" said Alex, going hurriedly through his own pockets.

"Some matches."

"Here's a couple of letters. Come on back to the rails, find some chips, and make a fire. See if we can't answer him, and learn what the trouble is."

They were already racing for the track, reached it, and quickly gathering together a little pile of dry bark and chips knocked from the ties, made a fire at the track-side, and lit it.

As the flames burst up Alex threw off his coat, and using it as a curtain, raised and lowered it in a flashed "I, I, KX!"

The call twinkled on. Wilson had not seen it. But the next moment, before Alex had completed a second answer, the red light disappeared. Alex again shot forth the gleaming "I, I, KX!" and in blinking response they read:

"Chased out of station. Two men. Wire cut. Something wrong. Help!--V."

"OK. But we are three miles from the train. Hunting. Will we come, or go back for help?" signalled Alex.

There was a pause, and the red light blinked, "Come! Quick!"

"OK. Coming." Only pausing to stamp out the fire, the two boys were away at a run, heading directly for the light, which at intervals Wilson continued to show, as a guide.

Their open-air experience of a month had put the two boys in the best of condition, and keeping on at a smart pace, within half an hour the light showed just ahead, and a few minutes after Wilson ran forward to greet them.

"I don't know what's in the air, but certainly something," he announced. "As you fellows are armed too, suppose we go back and get the two men in the station car, and see if we can't make them tell?" he suggested.

"Lead ahead," agreed the others.

Stealthily they made their way amid the intervening cars, and emerged opposite the little depot.

In the window was the shadow of a man smoking.