Ralph on the Overland Express Part 33

He stepped inside, to find himself in a queer situation. Ralph stood in the rear part.i.tioned-off end of the car. It resembled a homelike kitchen. An oil stove stood on a stand, and around two sides of the car were shelves full of canisters, boxes and cans, a goodly array of convenient eatables. Lying asleep across a bench was a young colored man, who wore the cap and ap.r.o.n of a dining-car cook.

Ralph felt that he was intruding, but his curiosity overcame him. He stepped to the door of the part.i.tion. Near its top was a small pane of gla.s.s, and through this Ralph peered.

"I declare!" he exclaimed under his breath, and with a great start.

A strange, vivid picture greeted the astonished vision of the young railroader. If the rear part of the tourist car had suggested a modern kitchen, the front portion was a well-appointed living room. It had a stove in its center, and surrounding this were all the comforts of a home. There was a bed, several couches, easy chairs, two illuminated lamps suspended from side brackets, and the floor was covered with soft, heavy rugs.

Upon one of the couches lay a second colored man, apparently a special car porter, and he, like the cook, was fast asleep. All that Ralph had so far seen, however, was nothing to what greeted his sight as his eyes rested on the extreme front of the car.

There, lying back in a great luxurious armchair, was a preternaturally thin and sallow-faced man. His pose and appearance suggested the invalid or the convalescent. He lay as if half dozing, and from his lips ran a heavy tube, connected with a great gla.s.s tank at his side.

Such a picture the mystified Ralph had never seen before. He could not take in its full meaning all in a minute. His puzzled mind went groping for some reasonable solution of the enigma. Before he could think things out, however, there was a sound at the rear door of the car. Some one on the platform outside had turned the k.n.o.b and held the door about an inch ajar, and Ralph glided towards it. Through the crack he could see three persons plainly. Ralph viewed them with wonderment.

He had half antic.i.p.ated running across Zeph Dallas somewhere about the train, but never this trio--Ike Slump, Jim Evans and the man he had known as Lord Montague. The two latter were standing in the snow. Ike was on the platform. He was asking a question of the man who had posed as a member of the English n.o.bility:

"Be quick, Morris; what am I to do?"

Lord Montague, _alias_ Morris, with a keen glance about him, drew a heavy coupling pin from under his coat.

"Take it," he said hastily, "and get inside that car."

"Suppose there's somebody hinders me?"

"Didn't I tell you they were all asleep?" demanded Morris. "You'll find a man near a big gla.s.s tank."

"See here," demurred Ike; "I don't want to get into any more trouble.

When it comes to striking a man with that murderous weapon----"

"Murderous fiddlesticks!" interrupted Morris. "You are to hurt n.o.body.

Smash the tank, that's all--run out, join us, and it's a hundred dollars cash on the spot, and a thousand when I get my fortune."

"Here goes, then," announced Ike Slump, pus.h.i.+ng open the door, "but what you want to go to all this risk and trouble for to smash an old gla.s.s tank, I can't imagine."

"You'll know later," muttered Morris grimly.

Ralph did not know what the three rascals were up to, but he realized that it must be something bad. Putting two and two together, thinking back a bit of all that had occurred concerning Zeph, the Clark boy, and the Slump crowd, he began to fancy that tourist cars played a big part in the programme, whatever that programme was. The smas.h.i.+ng of the gla.s.s tank, Morris had announced, was worth a hundred dollars to Ike--might lead to a fortune, he had intimated.

"There's some wicked plot afoot," decided Ralph, "so--back you go, Ike Slump!"

As Ike stepped across the threshold of the car the young engineer acted. He had grabbed the coupling pin from Ike's hand, dropped it, grasped Ike next with both hands and pressed him backwards to the platform. Ike struggled and himself got a grip on Ralph. The latter kept forcing his opponent backwards. Ike slipped and went through the break in the platform railing where the guard chain was unset, and both toppled to the ground submerged in three feet of snow.

Ralph had landed on top of Ike and he held him down, but the cries of his adversary had brought Evans and Morris to his rescue. The former was pouncing down upon Ralph with vicious design in his evil face, when a new actor appeared on the scene.

It was Zeph Dallas. He came running to the spot with his arms full of packages, apparently some supplies for the tourist car which he had just purchased of some store on Railroad Street. These he dropped and his hand went to his coat pocket. The amateur detective was quite as practical and businesslike as did he appear heroic, as he drew out a weapon.

"Leave that fellow alone, stand still, or you're goners, both of you,"

panted Zeph. "Hi! h.e.l.lo! stop those men! They're conspirers, they're villains!"

Zeph's fierce shouts rang out like clarion notes. They attracted the attention of the crowd around the switch shanty, and as Evans and Morris started on a run three or four of the railroad loiterers started to check their flight. As Zeph helped Ralph yank Ike Slump to his feet and drag him along, the young engineer observed that Evans and Morris were in the custody of the switch shanty crowd.

Two men coming down the track hastened over to the crowd. Ralph was glad to recognize them as Bob Adair, the road detective, and one of the yards watchmen.

"What's the trouble here, Fairbanks?" inquired Adair, with whom the young engineer was a prime favorite and an old-time friend.

"Dallas will tell you," intimated Ralph.

"Yes," burst out Zeph excitedly; "I want these three fellows arrested, Mr. Adair. They must be locked up safe and sound, or they'll do great harm."

"Ah--Evans? Slump?" observed Adair, recognizing the twain who had caused the Great Northern a great deal of trouble in the past.

"They'll do on general principles. Who's this other fellow?"

"He's the worst of the lot, the leader. He's an awful criminal,"

declared Zeph with bolting eyes and intense earnestness. "Mr. Adair, if you let that crowd go free, you'll do an awful wrong."

"But what's the charge?"

"Conspiracy. They're trying to----"

"Well, come up to the police station and give me something tangible to go on, and I'll see that they get what's coming to them," promised the road detective.

"I can't--say, see! my train. I've got to go with that train, Ralph,"

cried Zeph in frantic agitation. "Try and explain, don't let those fellows get loose for a few hours--vast fortune--Marvin Clark--Fred Porter--Fordham Cut--big plot!"

In a whirl of incoherency, Zeph dashed down the tracks, for the train with the tourist car had started up. He had just time enough to gather up his scattered bundles and reach the platform of the last car, as the mixed train moved out on the main line and out of sight, leaving his astonished auditors in a vast maze of mystery.

CHAPTER x.x.x

s...o...b..UND

Chug!

"A snowslide!" exclaimed Ralph, in dismay.

"An avalanche!" declared Fogg. "Dodge--something's coming!"

With a crash both cab windows were splintered to fragments. The young engineer of No. 999 was nearly swept from his seat as there poured in through the gap a volume of snow.

They had struck an immense snowdrift obliquely, but the fireman's side caught the brunt. As the powerful locomotive dove into the drift, the snow packed through the denuded window-frame at the fireman's seat like grain into a bin. A solid block of snow was formed under the terrific pressure of the compact. It lodged against the coal of the tender with a power that would probably have crushed the life out of a person standing in the way.

"Whew!" shouted Fogg. "Lucky I ducked."

Ralph stopped the engine, which had been going slower and slower each minute of the past hour. They had gotten about half the distance to Rockton. Long since, however, both engineer and fireman had fully decided that they would never make terminus that night.

They had left Stanley Junction under difficulties. The snow was deep and heavy, and there was a further fall as they cleared the limits.

There was no wind, but the snow came down with blinding steadiness and volume, and at Vernon they got the stop signal.