Part 8

Saunders sprang for the lantern, lit it, and catching it up, Alex was out the door, and off across the tracks through the still pouring rain for the lights of the section foreman's house. Darting through the gate, he ran about to the kitchen door, and without ceremony flung it open. The foreman was at the table, at his supper. He started to his feet.

"Joe, there is a wild ore train coming down from the Canyon," explained Alex breathlessly, "and the wire has failed east so we can't clear the line. Couldn't we get the jigger out and board the runaways by letting them catch us?"

An instant the section-boss stared, then with the promptitude of the old railroader seized his cap, exclaiming "Go ahead!" and together they dashed out to the gate, and across the tracks in the direction of the tool-house.

"Where did they start from? How many cars?" asked the foreman as they ran.

"Indian Canyon. Ten, and all loaded."

The section-man whistled. "They'll be going twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. We will be taking a big chance. But if we can catch them just over the grade beyond the sand-pits I guess we can do it. That will have slackened them.

"Here we are."

As they halted before the section-house door the boss uttered a cry. "I haven't the key!"

Alex swung the lantern about, and discovered a pile of ties. "Smash it in," he suggested, dropping the lantern. One on either side they caught up a tie, swayed back, and hurled it forward. There was a crash, and the door swung open.

Catching up the lantern, they dashed in, threw from the hand-car its collection of tools, placed the light upon it, ran it out, and swung it onto the rails.

"Do you hear them?" asked Alex as he threw off his coat. The foreman dropped to his knees and placed his ear to the rails, listened a moment, and sprang to his feet. "Yes, they're coming! Come on!

"Run her a ways first." They pushed the car ahead, quickly had it on the run, and springing aboard, seized the handles, and one on either side, began pumping up and down with all their strength.

As they neared the station the door opened and Saunders ran to the edge of the platform. "The wire came O K and I just heard Z pass Thirty-three," he shouted, "but couldn't make them hear me. He reported the superintendent's--"

They whirled by, and the rest was lost.

"Did you catch it?" shouted Alex above the roar of the car.

"I think he meant," shouted the foreman as he swung up and down, "superintendent's car ... attached to the Accommodation ... heard he was coming ... makes it bad.... We need every minute ... and Old Jerry ... the engineer ... 'll be breaking his neck ... to bring her ... through on time!

"Do you hear ... runaways yet?"

"No."

[Illustration: THEY WHIRLED BY, AND THE REST WAS LOST.]

On they rushed through the darkness, bobbing up and down like jumping-jacks, the little car rumbling and screeching, and bounding forward like a live thing.

The terrific and unaccustomed strain began to tell on Alex. Perspiration broke out on his forehead, his muscles began to burn, and his breath to shorten.

"How much farther ... to the grade?" he panted.

"Here it is now. Six hundred yards to the top."

As they felt the resistance of the incline Alex began to weaken and gasp for breath. Grimly, however, he clenched his teeth, and fought on; and at last the section-man suddenly ceased working, and announced "Here we are. Let up." With a gasp of relief Alex dropped to a sitting position on the side of the car.

"There it comes," said the foreman a moment after, and listening Alex heard a sound as of distant thunder.

"How long before they'll be here?"

"Five minutes, perhaps. And now," said the section-boss, "just how are we going to work this thing?"

"Well, when we boarded the engine at Bixton," explained Alex, getting his breath, "we simply waited at the head of a grade until it was within about two hundred yards of us, then lit out just as hard as we could go, and as she bumped us, we jumped."

"All right. We'll do the same."

As the foreman spoke, the rain, which had decreased to a drizzle, entirely ceased, and a moment after the moon appeared. He and Alex at once turned toward the station.

Just beyond was a long, black, snake-like object, shooting along the rails toward them.

The runaway!

On it swept over the glistening irons, the rumble quickly increasing to a roar. With an echoing crash it flashed by the station, and on.

Nearer it came, the cars leaping and writhing; roaring, pounding, screeching.

"Ready!" warned the foreman, springing to the ground behind the hand-car. Alex joined him, and gazing over their shoulder, watching, they braced themselves for the shove.

The runaways reached the incline, and swept on upward. Anxiously the two watched as they waited. Would the incline check them?

"I don't see that they're slowing," Alex said somewhat nervously.

"It won't tell until they are half way up the grade," declared the section-man. "But, get ready. We can't wait to see.

"Go!" he cried. Running the car forward, they leaped aboard, and again were pumping with all their might.

[Illustration: THE ENGINEER STEPPED DOWN FROM HIS CAB TO GRASP ALEX'S HAND.]

For a few moments the roar behind them seemed to decrease. Then suddenly it broke on them afresh, and the head of the train swept over the rise.

"Now pull yourself together for an extra spurt when I give the word," shouted the foreman, who manned the forward handles, and faced the rear, "then turn about and get ready to jump."

Roaring, screaming, clanking, the runaways thundered down upon them.

"Hit it up!" cried the section-man. With every muscle tense they whirled the handles up and down like human engines.

"Let go! Turn about!"

Alex sprang back from the flying handles, and faced about. The foreman edged by them, and joined him.

Nearer, towering over them, rushed the leading ore car.

"Be sure and jump high and grab hard," shouted the foreman.

"Ready! _Jump_!"

With a bound they went into the air, and the great car flung itself at them. Both reached the top of the end-board with their outstretched hands, and gripped tenaciously. As they swung against it, it seemed the car would shake them off. But clinging desperately, they got their feet on the brake-beam, and in another moment had tumbled headlong within.

Alex sank down on the rough ore in a heap, gasping. The seasoned section-man, however, was on his feet and at the nearby hand-brake in a twinkle. Tightening it, he scrambled back over the bounding car to the next.

Ten minutes later, screeching and groaning as though in protest, the runaways came to a final stop.

Another ten minutes, and the engineer of the Accommodation suddenly threw on his air as he rounded a curve to discover a lantern swinging across the rails ahead of him.

"Hello there, Jerry! Say, you're not good enough for a passenger run," said the section foreman humorously as he approached the astonished engineer. "We're going to put you back pushing ore cars. There's a string here just ahead of you."

When he had explained the engineer stepped down from his cab to grasp Alex's hand. "Oh, it was more the foreman than I," Alex declared. "I couldn't have worked it alone."

A moment later the superintendent appeared. "Why, let me see," he exclaimed on seeing Alex. "Are you not the lad I helped fix up an emergency battery at Watson Siding last spring? And who has been responsible for two or three other similar clever affairs?

"My boy, young as you are, my name's not Cameron if I don't see that you have a try-out at the division office before the month is out," he announced decisively. "We need men there with a head like yours."

[Illustration: THE WAIT WAS NOT LONG.]

XI

THE HAUNTED STATION

True to the division superintendent's promise, a month following the incident of the runaway ore train, Alex was transferred to the despatching office at Exeter. It was the superintendent himself who on the evening of his arrival presented him for duty to the chief night despatcher; and a few minutes later, having been initiated into the mysteries of directing and recording the movements of trains, Alex was shown to his wire.

"It is a short line--only as far as the Midway freight junction," the chief explained; "but if you make good here, you will soon be given something bigger.

"And, by the way, take your time in sending to the operator at the Junction," he added. "He's a rather poor receiver, but was the only man we could get to go there, on account of that so-called 'haunting' business."

"Oh, has the 'ghost' appeared there again?" inquired Alex with interest. For the "haunting" of the Midway Junction station had been a subject of much discussion on the main-line wire a few weeks back.

"Yes, two nights ago. And like the four men there before him, the night man left next morning. It is a strange affair. But I think the man there now will stick."

At midnight Alex called Midway Junction, and sent the order starting north the last freight for the night. Fifteen minutes later the operator at MJ suddenly called, and clicked, "That 'Thing' is here again. It's walking up and down the platform just outside.

"There it is now!" he sent excitedly. "And twice I've jumped out, and the moment I opened the door it was gone!

"There it is again!

"Now it's on the roof!" he announced a few moments after. "Rolling something down--just like the other chaps said! Gee, I'm no coward, but this thing is getting my nerve."

Though himself now considerably excited, Alex sought to reassure the MJ man. "But you know there must be some simple explanation to it," he sent. "No one really believes in ghosts these days. Just don't allow yourself to be frightened."

"Yes, I know," ticked the sounder. "That's what I told myself before I came. It seems vastly different, though, right here on the spot, and all by yourself, and it dark as pitch outside. If there was only someone else--"

The wire abruptly closed, a moment remained so, then suddenly opened, and in signals so excitedly made that Alex could only guess at some of them, he read: "Did you hear that? Did you get that?"

"Hear what? The wire was closed to me."

"Clooossclosd! Goed 6eavns! Whiiieeeeee Whyyy--" By an effort the frightened operator at the other end of the wire pulled himself together, and sent more plainly:

"When I stopped that time someone broke in here and said: 'Ha ha! Hi hi! Look behind! Look beh--'"

Again the wire closed, again opened.

"Theeeereit waaawas again!"

Alex called the chief. "Mr. Allen, that 'ghost,' or whatever it is--"

Once more the instruments broke out in an almost inarticulate whirr, and with difficulty together they picked out the words: "... sounds in the next room ... yelling and groaning just other side partition ... whispering at me through a knot-hole ... an eye looking at me ... stand it any longer ... right now! G. B. (Good-by)!"

Grasping the key, the chief sent quickly, "Look here! Wait a moment! You there?"

There was no response. Again he called, and gave it up. "No use. He's off like the rest of them. Well, I'm not sure I blame him. There must be something wrong. But it beats me!"

As he was about to move away the chief turned back and handed Alex a letter. "I overlooked giving it to you when you came in," he explained.

"From Jack Orr!" said Alex with pleasure. A moment later he uttered a second exclamation, again read a paragraph, and with a delighted "The very thing!" hastened after the chief.

"Mr. Allen, this letter is from a friend of mine, a first class commercial operator, who wants to get into railroad telegraphing, and who would be just the man to send to MJ.

"He is a regular amateur detective, and has all kinds of pluck," Alex went on, and in a few words recounted Jack's clearing up of the cash-box mystery at Hammerton, the part he played in the breaking up of the band of Black-Handers, and his resourcefulness when the wires were cut at Oakton.

The chief smiled and reached for a message blank. "Thank you, Ward," he said. "That's the man we want exactly. How soon can he come?"

"He says he could take a place with us right away, sir."

"Good. We'll have him there if possible to-morrow evening," decided the chief, writing.

Needless to say Jack was delighted when early the following morning at Hammerton he received the telegraphed appointment to the station at Midway. At once resigning at the Hammerton commercial office, he hurried home, by noon was on the train, and arrived at Midway Junction at 7 o'clock.

Entering the telegraph room, he called Exeter. "Well, here I am, Al," he ticked, when Alex himself responded. "And I'm ever so much obliged to you, old boy, for getting me the position."

"Don't mention it. And anyway," responded Alex, "you had better save your thanks until you learn just what you are up against there. I didn't have time to write--but the former man left last night, simply on the run." And continuing, Alex explained.

"So you see, you were called in as a sort of expert."

"Hi," laughed Jack. "Well, I'll do the best I can. But probably the 'ghost' won't show up again now for a month or so?"

"On the contrary, it is more likely to return soon," clicked Alex. "That has been the way every time so far--three or four appearances in succession. So you had better prepare for business at once."

Alex's prediction was realized two nights later. A few minutes after the last freight had gone north, and Jack had been left entirely alone in the big station, he heard light footfalls outside on the platform. Going to the window, he peered out into the darkness, and seeing nothing, turned to the door. As he opened it the footsteps ceased.

Surprised, Jack returned and secured a lantern, and passed out and down the long platform. From end to end it was deserted and silent.

He returned to the office. Scarcely had he closed the door when again came the sound of footsteps.

Jack paused and listened. They were light and quick, like those of a woman--up and down, up and down, now pausing a moment, now briskly resuming, as though the walker was anxiously waiting for someone.

On tiptoe Jack went back to the door, suddenly flung it open and flashed the lantern. As quickly the steps had ceased. Not a moving object was to be seen.

Immensely puzzled, Jack withdrew, and stepped to the instrument table. As he reached toward the telegraph key from almost directly overhead broke out a thundering rumble, as of a heavy wooden ball bounding down the roof.

Catching up the lantern, he once more rushed forth. Immediately, as before, all was silence. Nervous at last, in spite of himself, Jack hesitated, then resolutely set forth on a complete round of the station and freight shed, throwing the lantern light upon the roof, through the dusty windows, and into every nook and corner. Nowhere was there a sign of life.

He returned. The moment he closed the office door the rumble broke out afresh.

Jack sprang to the instruments, called Exeter, and sent rapidly, "Al, that 'ghost' is here, and in spite of me, is beginning to get on my--"

The line opened, then sharply clicked: "Look behind! Look behind!"

With a cry Jack was on his feet, and had started for the door. Half way he pulled up, with a determined effort controlled his panic, and returned to the key. "I suppose you didn't hear that, Al?" he asked.

"Not a letter."

"Well, good gracious, what--_Oh!_"

A cold chill shot up Jack's back. The cause was a low, long-drawn moan, apparently from just the other side of the wooden partition, in the freight room. Again it came, then suddenly ceased to give place to a low, tense whispering immediately behind him. Jack sprang about, and leaped to his feet. Within touch of him was a large knot-hole.

And was there not an eye at it? Peering at him?

He sprang toward it.

No! Nothing! The whispering, too, had ceased.

Thoroughly shaken, Jack again turned for his hat--and again faltered between the chair and the door.

"You there, Jack?" clicked Alex. "Hang on, old boy. Keep your nerve."

Clenching his teeth and gripping his hands Jack regained control of himself, and returned to the instruments. "Thanks, Al," he sent. "I was about all in, sure enough. But I am OK again now, and going to stick it out unless 'they,' or 'it,' or whatever it is, lugs me off bodily."

"That's the talk," said Alex encouragingly. "I knew you'd make good. Just keep on telling yourself there must be some natural explanation somehow, and you'll win out OK."

* * * * *

"Yes, that's my cue--'a natural explanation somehow,'" Jack repeated to himself the following afternoon as he left the big railroad boarding-house, a half mile from the station, and set out for a walk, to think things over.

"And I believe the starting point is that talk on the wire. That certainly is the work of an operator.

"Now, why is it heard only at this office?

"Say! Could it be on the loop? A cut-off arrangement on the station loop?

"I'll go down and look into that right now," declared Jack, and turning about, headed for the station.

The platforms and the big freight shed were alive with the bustle of the freight handlers, loading and unloading cars, trundling boxes and bales from one part of the platform to another and in and out of the big shed; and unnoticed, Jack discovered where the wires from the pole passed in under the roof. Entering the shed, he proceeded carefully to follow their course along the beams toward the telegraph room. He had almost reached the partition, and was beginning to think his conclusion perhaps too hastily drawn, when a few feet from the wall, where the light from an opposite window struck the roof, he caught two unmistakable gleams of copper. With a suppressed cry he made his way directly beneath, and at once saw that the insulation of both wires of the loop had been cut through.

"Right! I was right!" exclaimed Jack jubilantly beneath his breath. "And I can see in a minute how it's done. Whoever it is, simply gets up there somehow, and ticks one wire against the other--and of course the instruments inside click as they are alternately cut off and cut on, and the rest of the line is not affected!

"Good! I'm on the trail.

"But what can be the object of it all?"

Jack turned to look about him, and as in answer the lettering of a nearby box caught his eye:

"VALUABLE! HANDLE WITH CARE!"

"Freight stealing! Could that be it?"

On reporting for duty that evening Jack called Alex on the wire and asked if any freight had recently been reported missing from the Midway depot.

"No, but I understand some valuable stuff has been mysteriously disappearing at Claxton and Eastfield," was the reply.

Jack was considerably disappointed; but before giving up this line of investigation he determined to study the freight records of the station, to discover whether any freight for the two places mentioned by Alex had passed through Midway. A few minutes' search produced the record of a valuable shipment of silk to Claxton. A moment later he found another.

When presently he found still others, and several to Eastfield, he hurried back to the wire and calling Alex asked the nature of the goods lost track of at those stations, and breathlessly awaited the reply.

"I'll ask," said Alex--"Silverware and silk. Mostly silk."

Jack uttered a shout. "Hurrah, Alex," he whirred, "I'm on the track of our friend the 'ghost.' But keep mum.

"And now the question is," he told himself, leaning back in his chair, "how do they work it?"

The answer to the query came very unexpectedly as Jack left the station office at daybreak. Strolling down the front platform, where several men already were at work unloading a car, he inadvertently got in the way of a loaded truck. On the sudden cry of the truckman he sprang aside, tripped, and fell headlong against a large, square packing-case. As he did so, he distinctly heard from within a sharp "Oh!"

Only with difficulty did Jack avoid crying out, and scrambling to his feet, hastened away, that his discovery might not be suspected by the man in the box.

The whole mystery was now clear. The "ghost" was a freight thief, who had himself shipped, in a box, to some point which would necessitate his being transferred and held over night at the freight junction. He played "ghost" either to frighten the operator away, or to lead to the belief that any noises overheard were caused by "spirits," then overhauled the valuable freight in the shed, took what he wanted with him into his own box (which supposedly he could open and close from the inside), and was shipped away with it the following morning. The rifled packages, carefully re-sealed, also went on to their several destinations, and the blame of the theft was laid elsewhere.

Jack was not long in deciding upon his next move. Coming down from the boarding-house before the sheds had been closed that afternoon, he noted where the box containing the unsuspected human freight had been placed, and selecting a window at the far end of the shed, seized a favorable moment to quietly loosen its catch.

It was near midnight, and Jack was once more the sole guardian of the station when he took the next step. And despite a certain nervousness, now that the exciting moment was at hand, he found considerable amusement in carrying it out.

It was nothing less than making up a dummy imitation of himself asleep on a cot in a corner of the telegraph room--as a precaution against the "ghost" peering within to learn the effect of his "haunting."

In making the dummy Jack used a brown fur cap for the head, a glimpse of which under an old hat looked remarkably like his own brown head. A collection of old overalls and record books carefully arranged formed the body, and his own shoes the feet.

When over the whole he threw his overcoat, the deception was complete. Chuckling at the subterfuge, Jack lost no time in slipping forth for the next step in his program.

Tiptoeing down the platform to the window whose latch he had loosened, he softly raised it, listened, and climbing through, dropped noiselessly to the floor. Feeling his way in the darkness amid the bales and boxes, he reached a nook behind a piano-case he had previously noted, and settling down, prepared to await the appearance of the "spectre."