The Short Line War Part 22

Pratt came across the platform.

"I understood you wanted an old one," he said.

"We do," replied Harvey; "but we want one that will hold a little water, and one that can make time if necessary."

"Shall I change, sir?"

"It rests with the engineer. Donohue, can you do anything with this engine?"

Jawn leaned against the cab and slowly shook his head.

"Get another, then," said Harvey, and as the change was effected Jawn's heart was won. In an unreasoning way he promptly attributed his changed condition to Harvey; for in spite of his gruff sh.e.l.l the kernel of Jawn's nature was keenly susceptible to kindness, and to him a good engine and plenty of authority was the greatest kindness in life.

For two hours the train waited. Then, at five o'clock, a detail was sent into the restaurant, and the men were supplied with sandwiches and coffee, eating without leaving their seats. In half an hour all were fed, and they stretched out on the cane seats as comfortably as their crowded condition permitted. The long wait did not improve tempers, and it was a sullen, weary train load that counted the minutes on into the dusk. Jawn sat on his high seat and dozed.

The suspense was even more tense in the offices on the second floor of the station. Jim and Harvey spent most of the time in the private office, going over every possible combination of circ.u.mstances, Jim giving Harvey explicit directions for each case--when to use force, when not, when to call on the law, and when to send for aid. Occasionally Jim would call in Mattison to ask a question concerning some detail of the road, or he would send for Mallory to explain more fully his directions. It was plain that Jim desired to leave nothing to chance, now that the real struggle was on, but to throw all his available resources into the conflict. Mattison had a map drawn for Harvey, which showed every station, curve, switch, and siding; this Harvey studied during the lulls in the conversation, and as he already was familiar with all but the minor details of construction, he soon had his information upon a working basis. At six-fifteen Mattison came in.

"Mr. Weeks," he said, "the despatcher reports something the matter. For two or three hours, he says, the local reports have been confused and unsatisfactory. A few minutes ago he called up Tillman City and hasn't yet succeeded in getting any reply. The local men are sending in train reports, but something isn't right. He's got a notion that they aren't our old men."

"Tell them to try again," said Jim. "Ask them something a new man wouldn't know."

Mattison left the office and hurried to the stairway. On the landing he met a newsboy who was running up, calling:--

"Shcago Even' Papers! Extry! All about big railroad war!"

Mattison seized a paper and glanced at the headings. "Fight for M. & T.,"

he read. "Trunk Line Gobbles Small Road." His eye ran over the article; it was dated that afternoon from Truesdale. He turned and ran up the stairs, dashing into Jim's office and spreading the paper on the table.

"It's up to us," he said. "They've been at work all the afternoon."

As he spoke a boy came running into the office.

"Message from Byron, sir."

Mattison s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper and read aloud,---

C. & S.C. train leaving Tillman north seizing road.

STEVENS.

"That's the Tillman agent," said Mattison. "What's he doing at Byron?"

"Probably had to run for it," responded Harvey, putting on his hat and b.u.t.toning his coat. "That means fast work. Clear the track for me, Mattison."

"Wait a minute," said Jim. "Have we any trains north of Byron?"

"No."

"Then don't send any orders. They would warn the other side. No, go ahead and beat them if you have to break their heads."

As Harvey dashed out of the office Jim's eyes sparkled. He liked to do his own fighting, and it was half regretfully that he turned to the Superintendent.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HARVEY'S MAP OF THE M. & T.]

"If they're as near as that, Mattison, it means trouble. You'd better collect another gang and send it out after West. Take men off the trains, out of the yards, anywhere you can get them."

The wheels were soon in motion again, and another train backed under the iron roof and slowly filled with brawny men.

Harvey swung aboard his train and it started with a jerk, rolling rapidly over the network of tracks, past the switch tower, under the signal bridge, and out toward the open country. The little army was not sullen now. Figures sat erect, eyes flashed, young men spoke eagerly, older ones gruffly, and through the train ran a steady murmur of inquisitive wonder.

Apparently, save for a few dozen sticks and clubs, the men were not armed, but many hip pockets bulged suspiciously.

In the baggage car Harvey and Mallory were talking earnestly. Mallory was for travelling slowly lest they should encounter a loose rail or an open switch, but Harvey disagreed. He spread the map out on a box and rested a finger on the dot marked Tillman City.

"There they are," he said, "or were a few minutes ago, and they're coming right toward us. Now, to keep us from getting word they have to stop at every telegraph station, and that takes time. We've got a clear track and can travel fully twice as fast as they can. Here"--he moved his finger up the line of the road--"here at Brushingham is a long siding. I want to make that siding before they do."

"Why?"

"Because we must pa.s.s them there."

"They aren't going to lie up and let us run by."

"Yes, they are," said Harvey. "Wait a moment." He called to a brakeman who stood at the door, "Go up to the engine and tell the engineer to get to the siding at Brushingham at full speed."

The man nodded and ran forward. Another moment and those in the baggage car felt a jerk and a lift, and soon they were rattling over the rails with sway and roll. Harvey, meantime, was explaining to Mallory a plan which made that veteran chuckle merrily. His eyes wandered to the heap of chains, ropes, and iron piled on each side of the rear door, and he chuckled again. But Harvey's face was serious.

"It's something of a question whether we can get there in time, Mallory.

It's a sixty-five mile run for us to thirty-eight for them. We have all the advantage, of course, but there won't be any time to spare." He drew out his watch and timed the clicks of the rails. "He's. .h.i.tting it up in good style."

"What are we making?"

"About fifty, and pulling up all the time. It won't take us much over an hour at this rate, and I don't believe that they can make it in anything like that time. There are a lot of little stations north of Tillman, and they've got to stop at every one."

Nevertheless, as the minute hand crept around the watch, the two men began to peer out through the side window. It was dark now, and as the landmarks were not too familiar either to Harvey or to Mallory, they were unable to get their bearings.

"Where are we?" Harvey called to the brakeman.

"Getting into St. Johns," was the reply.

Sure enough, in another moment colored yard lights were whizzing by. There was a great clatter as they took the switches, then a row of streaked electric lights, a dim impression of streets and of clanging bells, a shriek from the locomotive, and again they were in the open. A few minutes later Harvey gave orders that a brakeman climb forward on the engine ready to throw the Brushingham switch. Soon the car jarred and struggled under the air brake, and then slowed down, grinding and pounding, almost to a stop. The brakes were released, and the train rolled easily out beyond the station on to the long siding. Harvey pulled the signal cord.

"Now, Mallory," he said, as the train came to a standstill, "we can go ahead."

Mallory picked up a patent frog from the floor, and with Harvey and the brakeman swung out of the car and ran down the track. From the windows projected a long row of heads, but no questions were asked as the three men ran forward. A short distance ahead of the engine they stopped. Away to the south a small bright light rounded into view.

"Here she comes," said Mallory.

Harvey made no reply, and the frog was adjusted to the east rail of the main track. Then they went back and clambered aboard the engine. Mallory ordered a squad of men forward, and stationed some on the pilot and running board, others on the tender and front platform. The light grew slowly larger, sending out pointed rays and throwing a shine on the rails.

There was the sound of a bell and of the exhaust, and the train pulled slowly toward the bleak little station. Suddenly, when within speaking distance, the approaching engine struck the patent frog and left the rails with a jar and a sc.r.a.pe, ploughing her nose into the slag.