Richard Dare's Venture; Or, Striking Out for Himself Part 7

"There are two men in there stuck fast!" exclaimed a short, stout man, as puffing and blowing he reached the ground. "I tried to help 'em both, but it was no use,--the seats all piled up atop of 'em. Beckon they'll have to be cut away, they're jammed in so tight."

Instantly Richard thought of Mr. Joyce. Nowhere in the crowd could he catch sight of the gentleman. It was possible that one of the two might be his newly-made friend.

"There's a tool-house down the road a ways," continued the stout man.

"I noticed it as we rode past, a moment before we went over."

"Where?" asked Richard eagerly.

"On the other side, up the embankment," was the reply.

"I'll see if I can get something to work with," returned the boy. "Just watch my baggage while I'm gone."

In an instant he was off, running as fast as possible. He found the building just as it had been described. The door was open, and rushing in, he confronted an Irish laborer, who was cleaning up some tools.

"The train has been wrecked, just below," he exclaimed hurriedly. "We want some tools--an axe or a crowbar--something--quick!"

"Train wrecked?" repeated the man in astonishment.

"Yes,--just below." Richard picked up an axe and an iron bar.

"Bring some more tools with you!" he cried as he started to go. "It may mean life or death!" Richard's earnest manner made an impression upon the laborer, and in a few seconds the man was following the boy, with his arms full of such implements as were handy.

Down at the wreck Richard found that one of the two men, a lean, sallow-complexioned individual, had already been liberated, but the other was still a prisoner.

"Just what we want!" cried one of the workers, as he took the axe from the boy's hand. "Can you use the bar?"

"I guess so."

"Follow me, then."

Richard crawled into the car after the man. Inside it was full of dust, and the thick tobacco smoke nearly stifled the boy.

Near the center of the car they found the unfortunate pa.s.senger. It was not Mr. Timothy Joyce.

The man was on his back, and a seat, fastened in some strange manner, pinned him down.

"Help me! help me!" he gasped. "That thing is staving in all my ribs!"

It did not take Richard long to insert the iron bar under one end of the slat and thus pry it up. This done the man with the axe gave the side of the seat a couple of blows, and then the prisoner was free.

"Thank G.o.d!" exclaimed the man, as he sprang to his feet, and followed the others out of the car. "And thank you, too, my hearties," he continued to the other man and to Richard. "I thought as how I was strangled sure. But Doc Linyard allers was a lucky tar. Thanky, messmates, thanky."

He was a nautical-looking fellow of perhaps forty. He wore a blue pea-jacket and trousers, and under the rolling collar of his gray flannel shirt was tied a black bandanna in true sailor style.

"Is your chest hurt much?" asked Richard, as he thought he noticed a look of pain cross the man's countenance.

"No bones broken," was the reply, after a deep breath.

The two were soon standing side by side on the bank near the track.

"Wish I could reward you," went on the man. "But I ain't got a dollar all told."

And diving into his capacious pocket he brought to light only a miscellaneous collection of small coins.

"Oh, never mind that," said the boy, coloring a trifle. "I'm glad you're all right."

"So am I--downright glad, and no mistake. As I said afore, my name is Linyard, Doc Linyard, general manager, along with my wife, of the Watch Below, the neatest sailors' lunch-room on West Street, New York. I say neatest acause my wife keeps it. She's a worker, Betty is. Come and see me some time. I won't forget to treat you well."

"Thank you, Mr. Lin--"

"Avast there! Don't tackle no mister to my name," interposed the old sailor. "What's _your_ name?" he continued suddenly.

Richard told him.

"All right, Mr. Dare. I'll remember it, and you too. But don't go for to put a figure-head to my name. Plain Doc Linyard is good enough for such a tough customer as me."

"I'll remember it, Mr--"

"Avast, I say--"

"I mean Doc Linyard."

And shaking hands the two separated.

Picking up the two valises, Richard made his way through the crowd, looking for Mr. Joyce. It seemed rather queer that the gentleman who had left his baggage in the boy's care was nowhere to be found.

Richard made quite a number of inquiries, especially among the men who had occupied the smoking-car, but to no avail.

The smash-up was no small affair, and it took fully an hour before the railroad officials that were present could get a.s.sistance to the spot.

In the meantime, the injured were laid out on the gra.s.s and made as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would permit. Luckily, several doctors had been pa.s.sengers on the train, and as they were uninjured they took charge of all who needed their aid.

Finally a train backed down to take the pa.s.sengers to Rockvale, the next town of importance.

Richard hardly knew what to do. If Mr. Joyce was hurt it was certainly his duty to remain. But perhaps the gentleman had gone off, to render a.s.sistance, or, it was possible, on a search for his satchel.

"Guess I'll take the train and risk it," was Richard's conclusion. "He is bound to follow to Rockvale sooner or later, and we will probably meet in the depot."

Nevertheless, as the boy entered the car he felt rather uncomfortable, carrying off the property of another, who was comparatively a stranger to him.

CHAPTER VI.

UNDER SUSPICION.

"Well, I've had an adventure on the road just as Grace hoped I would,"