Part 2

He started out of the station without waiting for the conductor’s highball. The latter dashed out of the depot and caught the last coach. Two sharp yanks on the whistle cord brought Sam to a quick stop three hundred feet down the track. The conductor ran along the roadbed till he was opposite the engine cab, and for the first time in his life Sam took a calling down without making a single comeback.

“What’s the matter, Sam,” asked Plapp as the Nome express gathered headway again, “sick? Or just thinkin’ that mebbe we’re a couple o’ potential millionaires and don’t know it, workin’ our hearts out on a railroad?”

“Aw hell, if there’s gold in that ground of ours, it’ll stay there till we get it. It ain’t goin’ to fly away,” said Sam, trying to fight down his desire to go back on his word and quit.

He was still debating the question within his mind when he pulled into Ptarmigan Gulch and he almost forgot that he had a meet there with a northbound freight. He ran past a signal set dead against him and only pulled up to a short stop when Plapp yelled at him. When the freight had gone by, he rattled out of the Gulch in the same nervous hurry that marked his departure from the Kougarok depot.

* * * * *

As he approached the switch at Cooley’s Bend, he took a last good look down the track ahead of him and then closed his eyes going by the gravel-bottomed gully in which lay the little stretch of auriferous earth that held his fondest dreams of wealth and fortune.

The claim lay up the gully a short distance to the right. Plapp had the firebox door open and was about to heave some coal into his glowing furnaces when he chanced to look over toward the property he and Sam had staked. For a half second he held his shovel poised in mid-air. Then he dropped it with a clatter to the floor, and shook Sam excitedly.

“Sam, look! Look! There’s men on our claim. Workin’--diggin’ gold out of it! Sam, they’re robbin’ us.”

Sam opened his eyes with a start. “The dirty buzzards!” he yelled. Just ahead of him, he saw the turn-out. His passengers, his given word, everything seemed of little importance beside the fact that men were on his claim, stealing from him. He shut his throttle on the thread of steam and applied his brakes.

“Jump, Plapp!” he shouted as the speeding train came to a grinding halt. “Run ahead and throw that switch. I’m gonna take the express out on that siding till we clean them lousy crooks off our property.”

Plapp jumped, rolled over in the ditch once, then picked himself up and ran for the switch. He threw the bar over as Sam released his brakes and opened his throttle gently. Once across the switch the engineer shut off steam again and let his train coast to a stop, while he swung out of the cab.

Passengers stuck their heads out of the windows. The conductor came running toward Sam, but before he could get breath enough to open his mouth Sam called to him.

“Hey, throw that switch back on the main line! Me and Plapp will be back in a couple of minutes.”

With that he dashed up the gully after Plapp. There were three men working on the claim.

“Hey!” shouted the big fireman. “What’s the idea, you dirty thieves, stealin’ a man’s gold!”

The biggest of the three men, a great black-bearded fellow, spat contemptuously. “Yuh ain’t referrin’ to me and my pardners, is you, stranger? ’Cause I got a notion to make you eat them words, handsome.”

“The hell we ain’t!” shouted Sam, coming up with the group. “Sock him, Plapp! He’s your size. Bust him on the nose!”

Plapp’s fist shot out at the same time the big claim-jumper reached for his gun. There was the crack of knotted fist on a jawbone and the sharp bang-bang of gunfire.

“He’s tryin’ to shoot you! The yellow skunk!” screamed Sam, jumping for the man with the gun. As he plunged, the other two claim-jumpers swung into the melee. One tripped Sam with his foot and the other dealt his falling body a vicious blow with his fist. Sam rolled to the ground, but he managed to get his arms around a leg of the big miner. He clung like a leech as the man tried to shake himself free.

With a howl of rage and pain the claim-jumper bent over to finish off the engineer. Plapp caught the miner a stomach blow that doubled him up. Unfortunately the force of his follow through took the fireman off his balance. He fell on top of the jumper and Sam on the bottom of the pile felt his head being ground into the dirt and gravel by the weight of the two heavy men on top of him.

* * * * *

“Hey, get offa me, you walruses!” groaned Sam as the two other miners tried to pry Plapp from their comrade. For some minutes the slugging, kicking mass rolled over and over on the ground. Fists flew. Blows were given and taken. The men hardly knew whom they were striking, friend or foe.

Sam felt a hairy hand reach for his throat. He tried to twist out of reach and as he turned someone’s bloody thumb started to gouge his eye out. He sensed rather than saw that Plapp was apparently out of the fight.

“Hey, Plapp!” he shouted, “Where are you, Plapp? They’re killin me, Plapp, pickin’ on a little guy like me!”

For once Plapp’s aid was not forthcoming. Sam fought like a demon, all the while cursing and calling for his fireman. Suddenly it dawned on him that something must have happened to Plapp. “Mebbe they licked him,” he muttered, and redoubled his efforts.

But the gamest fighter in the world couldn’t have held out long against such odds. Three men to one scrapping peewee. They rained blows on him till he ached all over and when he closed his eyes everything spun around and went black. Spitting out teeth, wiping blood from his face, Sam pulled himself together for a last effort.

Suddenly the blows ceased. Shots filled the gully. Two of the claim-jumpers started to run. As the third started to follow them Sam reached out and clutched at a corduroy-trousered leg. He hung on, though he was dragged twenty yards before his prisoner came to a halt at the sharp command, “Stick ’em up.”

Sam lifted his head weakly. “I got him, Plapp!” he murmured. Then he looked around him. Plapp wasn’t there. Just a whole crowd of passengers from his train. He recognized the conductor and some trainmen.

“You done a good job there, little fella,” said one of the miners, coming over and helping Sam to his feet. “These birds have been jumpin’ claims all over the Kougarok. The marshal will be mighty glad to see them.”

“Yeh,” said Sam without interest. “Where’s Plapp?”

The man pointed toward another group of people a few yards away. “You mean the fireman? Oh, he’ll pull through. The doc is lookin’ after him.”

“The doc!” Sam screamed, “Plapp! Hey, Plapp!”

While some of the miners marched the claim-jumpers back to the train, Sam dashed over toward those who had gathered around Plapp. “What’s the matter, doc?” he shouted.

“Nothing serious. Three flesh wounds. Various parts of his anatomy. He says he got them when the fight started. When the big fellow pulled the gun on him first.”

“Well, I’ll-- Hey, Plapp, you’re aces. Press the flesh, kid.”

The fireman, weak from loss of blood, held out a limp hand and tried to sit up. Willing hands braced his back.

“Them dirty skunks,” mumbled Plapp, “tryin’ to steal a claim from a little runt like you.”

“Yeh,” agreed Sam slowly, “You fixed ’em. But they made a liar out o’ me. Guess my no stop-over record is plumb shot to hell now.”

Suddenly the rumble of a train held everybody spellbound. It was coming north bound, up the tracks towards the Kougarok. With a roar it thundered around the bend and rocked past the deserted Nome express, safe on the siding.

Sam looked up blankly. The conductor was standing beside him. “What in blazes?” he exclaimed, “We ain’t got a meet at this turn-out.” He pulled his orders from his inside pocket and scanned them carefully. “That was a two-car special too.”

“That meet?” Sam said. “Yeah, I got it orally from the operator at Ptarmigan Gulch. Forgot to tell you.”

The conductor grunted skeptically. He remembered distinctly that Sam had not left his engine cab at Ptarmigan Gulch at all. Nor had the operator come out to the train. However, he said nothing.

The doctor looked up. “If a couple of you boys will give me a hand, I think this man can get back to the train now.” Plapp, his head swathed in improvised bandages, hobbled back to the train supported on the willing shoulders of two miners.

* * * * *

Sam climbed into his cab and backed onto the main line carefully. With a trainman firing for him in place of Plapp who was back in one of the passenger coaches, Sam picked his way cautiously down to Moonglow, the next telegraph station. He beat the conductor by half a length to the telegraph operator’s desk, and crashed into a little knot of men who had rushed toward the door upon the arrival of the express. Foremost of these was the general superintendent himself.

“Tebbetts,” he said sternly, “where’s that northbound special? We were just going out to get the wrecker ready.”

“Met her on the turn out at Cooley’s Bend.”

“Hmm,” the super turned to the Moonglow operator. “That man at Ptarmigan Gulch must be drunk. Give me that last wire of his again.” The operator handed over a piece of yellow paper, from which the super read aloud:

“Order to have Nome Express wait for special at C. B. turn-out received too late. Nome express left here six minutes ago. Eleven forty-eight.”

Sam paled slightly as the superintendent looked him squarely in the eye.

“Tebbetts, did you run into that turn-out on instructions, or did you just have a hunch you’d like to go prospecting again?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam.

“Yes, what? Did you get the orders for that meet with the special?” The super’s eyes seemed to bore through to the back of Sam’s aching head.

“No, sir,” he admitted quietly.

“I thought not. Tebbetts, I told you before about those stop-overs. In this case you happened to be fortunate. Avoided a wreck probably. But you must run according to orders. I’m sorry. I’ll have to punish you as I said I would for that non-scheduled stop-over. You’re fired.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Sam, edging slowly towards the door. “But can I finish the run? I’d like to get Plapp down to Nome first, to the hospital.”

The super relaxed. “You may.” Tebbetts started back to his train.

“Wait a minute,” called the super, “I haven’t finished yet. I told you we couldn’t have a man on this line that persists in prospecting on his runs. Still, you avoided a wreck. You probably saved the lives of many men. We can’t afford to lose a man like you, either. After you get into Nome, come around in the morning. Come into my office. I’ll give you another run. But first you’ll get a two weeks’ vacation with pay, to work on that claim of yours at the bend. Of course you’ll have to cut out stop-overs. No pledge, or promise, or anything like that. Just your word, Tebbetts.”

“Okay. Press the flesh.”

And to Sam’s surprise the superintendent gripped his palm.

[Transcriber’s note: This story appeared in the May 5, 1929 issue of _Argosy All-Story Weekly_.]