Ralph, The Train Dispatcher Part 32

"A special!" he murmured, fired up magically. "Can it be possible--"

Ralph paused there, checking the wild thoughts, or rather hopes, that thronged his mind. He was thinking of the belated lawyer as well as of the old telegraph operator.

The office clock gave out three sharp strokes as there was a commotion.

Some one tried the door. It was not locked and opened at the touch.

Ralph jumped to his feet with an irrepressible cry of gladness.

Two men entered. One was the old headquarters dispatcher, Glidden. His companion, a peaked faced, shrewd eyed man, Ralph intuitively accepted as the Derby lawyer.

"h.e.l.lo!" shot out the latter spicily--"visitors, friends. How's this, Dorsett?"

"We've come to stay, that's how it is," growled out the man addressed.

"I think not," spoke up Ralph quickly. "They have stolen a march on you, Mr. Glidden. They came with a replevin writ, found it of no effect, and have now sent to some renegade justice outside of the township for a writ of possession."

"Have, eh?" said the lawyer. "Well, I fancy they won't use it. Here, you, constable--what's your authority?"

"Demand--four thousand one seventy-seven ninety-eight," p.r.o.nounced the official, waving a doc.u.ment.

"How is it, Mr. Glidden?" inquired the lawyer.

The old dispatcher rammed his hand in his shirt and drew out a formidable roll of bank notes.

"I've got thirty five hundred here," he said. "Fairbanks has a thousand."

"I left it in the safe up at your house," explained Ralph to the lawyer.

"All right, I guess my check is good for that balance, eh, constable?"

"Yes, surely," answered the officer obsequiously, thinking of further legal business.

"Cancel the judgment," ordered the lawyer. "Now, then, Dorsett, I reckon we can dispense with your company."

The baffled conspirators sneaked away with dark mutterings. The lawyer hailed through the speaking tube.

"I got so anxious I arranged for a special at Hillsdale," explained Glidden to Ralph. "Just by luck I ran across the lawyer, waiting for a train."

It was after Bartlett and the tramp had shut down the furnaces and appeared in the office room and the foreman explained Ralph's clever plans of the night, that the lawyer approached the young train dispatcher and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Young man," he said, "did you ever study law?"

"No, sir. Somewhere along the line I would like to, but just now railroading takes up my time."

"H'm. Very good. Well, if you ever want to, I'll give you a job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes," added the lawyer, with a bright admiring glance at Ralph's face, "in fact, after your clever work to-night, I think I would be willing to take you into partnership."

CHAPTER XXV

A WILD NIGHT

"Tic-tac!"--"annul train 22--blockade at Fox Center"--"25-25-25-45 stalled at Morey Gap." "Fast freight derailed--switch 19 outside of Abingdon."

"Whew!" exploded the first trick man at dispatcher's headquarters. "Did you get all that, Fairbanks?"

Ralph nodded, but did not speak. He was too busy for that. His hand was constantly on the key of his instrument, and his ear was bent with almost painful tension to catch every faint vibration of the wires. His eyes jumped with magic swiftness from chart to note sheet and train schedule. Ralph just now was a typical dispatcher in the midst of muddles, calls, cross-calls and piling up business enough to distract the average man. The young railroader confessed to himself that this was the busiest hour of his life.

It was a wild, stormy night outside, cozy enough in the warm, well-lighted dispatcher's room. The wind without went howling by shrilly. Great sweeps of snow deluged the window panes. Whistles from the yards sounded hoa.r.s.e and m.u.f.fled. Inside that room skilled intelligence and vigilance controlled the midnight workings of the important Great Northern. In a picture view Ralph could see some belated locomotive breasting the drifts of lonely gully and curve. He could imagine a c.u.mbersome freight feeling its way slowly past snow-clouded signals, marooned station men with their instruments knocked dead through fallen wires, and the venturesome repair crew wading through deep drifts to locate the break.

And a finger on the key controlled all this mix-up, and intent eye and brain tried to keep the various trains moving. As early as eight o'clock messages had begun to come in fast and thick telling of the great storm of wind and snow, the third of the season, that was sweeping over the Mountain Division of the Great Northern road.

At ten o'clock the commercial wires went out from Rockton, and a special operator now sat over in a corner of the dispatcher's room at an extra instrument taking press news over a roundabout circuit. Everything went by jerks and starts. The insulation was bad and sometimes the sounders moved without giving out any intelligible vibration.

Towards eleven o'clock the rush was over on regular business, but the delayed train list began to pile up alarmingly. Everything was late.

Within the next half hour two blockades, four stalled freights and two telegraph lines down were reported. It was now that Ralph was put distinctly on his mettle. Glidden watched him anxiously but admiringly from under his deep set eyebrows, and so far did not have to check up an error in orders or a mistake in judgment.

On either side of Ralph was a card. That on the right hand side had the names of all the stations from Stanley Junction to Rockton. The one on the left side had all the stations from Rockton to Stanley Junction. On both cards some of the stations had been crossed off, particularly on the right hand card. In fact only one station this side of terminus remained.

Glidden went quickly over to Ralph's table as a message ticked out that both had been waiting for. With a somewhat triumphant smile Ralph checked off the last station with a dash of his pencil.

"Gone through, eh?" spoke Glidden with a grin.

"Safe and snug," answered Ralph. "You heard--one hour late on account of the snow, but no attack."

"Good thing for the conspirators," observed Glidden. "Either they found out it was a trap or saw the half dozen armed guards inside."

"Perhaps they fancied we knew too much and gave up the experiment of robbing the pay car."

"Well, she's through--now for the other one. How is it?"

"Heavy snow, but she's making time," reported Ralph, glancing at the remaining card. "83 is a hundred miles out of Rockton. Just pa.s.sed Sh.o.r.eham on the Mountain Division."

"Say, those fellows will never guess what they've missed till it's too late, hey?"

"It seems so," nodded Ralph.

There was a lapse of messages now. Only the ceaseless grind of press dispatches clicked from the instrument over in the corner. Ralph sat back and took a breathing spell.

The pay car had gone through--the dummy pay car rather--which had left the Junction at eight o'clock that morning. It had been loaded up pretentiously with the apparent usual bags of coin and little safes that were used on regular trips. These, however, contained no money. The paymaster went aboard ostentatiously. The doors and windows were securely locked as usual. Inside, however, were half a dozen men armed to the teeth. The dummy pay car was a bait for the robbers. They had not appeared. The cypher message to Ralph just received told him that the train had reached terminus without hindrance or damage.

"Now for the other one," Glidden had said. This meant a good deal. The "other one" was the real pay car, loaded with real treasure. To checkmate any possible attack, the railroad officials with great secrecy had loaded up an ordinary baggage car with the pay safes and bullion in transit for banks. It was proposed to distribute this in parcels at section centers out of the usual routine.