The Young Railroaders Part 53

From the dark line of the cars rose a shouted command, there came a ripping volley of a dozen Colts, and a dim group of figures rushed toward them.

"Now, steady!" warned Alex. "And shoot low!

"_Fire!_"

"_Crash!_" went the Winchesters, "_Crack, crack, crack!_" the pistols.

Two of the leading runners went to their hands and knees. The others rushed on, shouting and spitting flames.

Keeping well under cover, the boys fired as quickly as they could work their weapons. Wilson felt a stinging snip at his right ear, and a warm stream trickling down his neck. He emptied the first pistol, and began with the second.

"_Crash! Crash!_" roared the Winchesters.

The attackers held on. They had made half the distance. In spite of themselves, the boys began firing nervously.

Closer the running figures came.

Jack snapped back his reloading mechanism, and pulled the trigger. There was no report.

His cry of consternation was echoed by Alex.

They had fired their last shots!

With a wild shout of triumph two of their a.s.sailants were upon them.

From a clear patch of sky bright moonlight flooded the construction-train and the gray slope of the hill to the southeast about which the rails had crept that day. Grouped on the rear steps of the store-car, Superintendent Finnan and several of his foremen sat and smoked, and listened.

"Yes; it's a horse," said one of the foremen.

"Two horses," declared the superintendent. "And coming as though Old Nick were after them."

Over the moonlit rise swept a figure on horseback, then another.

On discovering the group at the car, the leader uttered a shrill whoop, and tore down the slope toward them.

"The first is Little Hawk! The other is a prisoner! What's wrong?" cried the superintendent, springing to the ground.

The Indian pulled up in a cloud of dust before him, and threw himself from his reeking pony.

"Want burnum bridge," he said, indicating his prisoner. "Five, ten, more!

Much more! Three boy--tick-knock boy--fightem!

"Hear? Hear?"

He placed his hand to his ear.

The incredulous group turned to the east and listened.

As from infinitely far away, half heard, half felt, came a low, deadened "Plugk!... Plugk, plugk!... Plugk!"

A moment the startled railroadmen stared at one another. Then quickly the superintendent spoke.

"Ryan, rout out the engineer and firemen! The rest of you run for your guns, and a dozen good men from your gangs! Don't lose a minute!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE INDIAN PULLED UP IN A CLOUD OF DUST.]

The group scattered with a rush. Fifteen minutes later, with men filling her cab and cl.u.s.tered on the tender, the engine was under way, rushing eastward.

As rapidly the speed was increased, the locomotive rocked and leaped over the new roadbed, but with the superintendent at his elbow, the engineer drove her up to the last notch, and the prairie streamed by them like a blanket.

Half the distance was made, and above the noise of the engine came a sharp "Tap, tap! Tap, tap, tap!"

On the engine rushed, and the distant shapes of cars appeared.

Simultaneously there came a crashing volley of shots, and a chorus of shouting. The men on the engine gripped their guns, and stared ahead into the s.p.a.ce lit up by the headlight.

With reducing speed they struck a curve, and the stream of light swung about toward the bridge. The next moment into the glare broke a group of madly struggling figures.

On the flash of the light the fighting ceased. There were cries of alarm, and the renegades began to break and flee. A small party stood, and fired toward the engine. But with a roar the railroadmen leaped and tumbled to the ground, and rushed at them, and they too broke and fled.

And the great fight was over, and won.

The superintendent was first to reach the little barricade. Jack, he found unconscious from a blow on the head. Wilson had fainted, and Alex drooped limply on the wall of ties, exhausted past speaking. The faces, hands and clothes of all bore mute witness to the desperate struggle they had put up during those last terrible minutes.

Within a short time, however, all three boys had somewhat recovered, and were able to take their places in the engine cab; and a half hour later the party headed back for the construction-train, coupled behind them a box-car containing eighteen prisoners. Ten of the captured men were found to have been wounded, several seriously; but to the relief of the boys none had been killed outright.

When rescued, rescuers and prisoners arrived at the construction-train they found an excited crowd of over three hundred men awaiting them. And on the details of the affair quickly spreading, the three boys were literally swept from their feet by the enthusiastic foreigners, hoisted into the air, and carried to the telegraph-car to a continuous roar of "hurrahs" and "bravos."

The following Wednesday a special train, to which was attached Division Superintendent Cameron's private car, drew up at the rear of the boarding-train. Proceeding thither in response to a message, Alex and Jack found Wilson, who had been picked up at the viaduct station, Construction Superintendent Finnan and several other Middle Western officials.

Having greeted them warmly, the division superintendent took a small package from his desk, and opened it. "I know you don't like speeches, boys," he began; "and in any case, I'm not sure I could do justice to the occasion. But, here! These three gold watches--the very finest the company's money could buy, I may say--will show you what we think of the loyalty to the company, and the splendid courage you three lads displayed last Sat.u.r.day night in defense of the Antelope viaduct.

"I might just read one of the inscriptions," he said, opening Alex's watch.

"'To Alex Ward, from the Middle Western Railroad, in recognition of the heroic part he played in the defense of the Antelope viaduct, November 2nd, 18--, and in thus ensuring the victory of the Middle Western in its memorable race with the K. & Z. for the Yellow Creek Pa.s.s.'

"For that is precisely what it meant," declared the superintendent. "The pa.s.s is ours now, beyond any chance.

"And finally," he concluded, as Alex, Jack and Wilson, scarcely knowing what to say, took the three beautiful watches, "I would just like to remark that if you three boys do not some day stand where I stand, or higher, I'll be both greatly surprised and disappointed."

That this prediction was justified, you can to-day learn from any directory of railroad officials--for there, in the pages devoted to the Middle Western, you will find the name of Alexander Ward, Superintendent, Western Division; John Orr, Superintendent, Central Division; and, as General Superintendent of Telegraphs, Wilson A. Jennings.