To The Front Part 6

[Ill.u.s.tration: "NOT A WHIFF OF THE DRAUGHT COULD BE WASTED"]

Only two short, smooth miles ahead lay the low ridge that formed the eastern boundary of the old reservation. Beyond it, on the broad _mesa_, stood the buildings of the frontier garrison, once Geordie's home and refuge. The tall flag-staff came suddenly into view, and in less than four minutes they would be rus.h.i.+ng by. Over forty miles to the hour were they flying now. Big Ben had just let out another notch as they swung into the two-mile tangent, when at the same instant he and Geordie caught sight of three or four black dots dimly bobbing in the midst of a little dust-cloud on the roadway far ahead, and almost at the same instant came from each the low cry, "There they are!"

Toomey dropped his shovel and glanced forward over Ben's burly shoulder, then, grabbing the vertical handrails on cab and tender, leaned out and gazed astern. The wagon road twisted over the bleak "divide" the train had just rounded, and, barring a team or two jogging slowly into town, was bare of traffic. "No chasers so far," he shouted, as he again stooped to his tools.

"No chasers but us could catch 'em," growled Ben. "We'll give 'em a toot of the whistle!" he shouted across to Geordie, and the steam blast shrieked through the keen morning air in obedience to the quick pull at the cord.

And now 705 was fairly flying, the green flags at the rear flattened like s.h.i.+ngles in the whistling wind, and a cloud of mingled dust and smoke rolling furiously after the caboose. Big Ben had "pulled her wide open," and under full head of steam the powerful engine tore like a black meteor up the glistening track. In eagerness and excitement almost uncontrollable George Graham clung to his perch and gazed with all his eyes. Barely a mile ahead now spurred the fugitives, his old friend Nolan in their midst--Nolan whom he had come all those miles to see!

And then a strange thing happened. So far from finding rea.s.surance, friends.h.i.+p, sympathy in the whistle blast, the riders had read the very opposite. So far from slackening speed and letting the signalling train come up on them, they had suddenly veered to the left, the south, and, bending low like jockies over their coursers' manes, they shot across the track, dived down into the pebbly bottom, and the next thing Geordie saw they were plunging breast-deep through the brown and heaving torrent, the waters foaming at their knees.

"Might 'a' known it!" bellowed Toomey, disgusted. "'Course they reason we've got the sheriff and posse aboard, and they're taking the short-cut to the--you know," he said, with a sudden significant gulp, to Geordie, and a warning glance at Ben. Even now that he had left the trooper habits months behind, Toomey could not forget or disregard trooper ethics. Ben might be friendly to Nolan, just as he claimed, but--would Ben keep other's secrets?

And even under his coat of coal and tan Geordie's face blazed suddenly.

As a lad whom the troopers knew and loved and trusted, he could not help knowing in by-gone days of the ranch just south of the post--"Saints' Rest," they called it, laughingly--the shack owned and occupied by an old soldier with a numerous family: the rendezvous for many a revel, the resting-place of many a hunting-party, the refuge of many a home-bound squad of "the boys," before the days of the canteen that brought comfort and temperance into the army for the short but blessed spell of its existence--boys just back from an unhallowed frolic in town, and not yet sober enough to face their first sergeant and "the Old Man" at the orderly room. Oh, wonderful things were told of old s.h.i.+ner and his ranch! In the eyes of some straitlaced commanders he had been little better than a receiver of stolen goods, a soldier Shylock who loaned moneys at usurious interest, a gambler who fleeced the trooper folk of their scanty pay, a dispenser of bad liquors and worse morals. Some truth there may have been in some of these tales, yet s.h.i.+ner had been a strangely useful man. He supplied the post with milk and cream, b.u.t.ter and eggs, of better quality and lower price than could possibly be had in town. He knew the best hunting and fis.h.i.+ng on the range. He had teams and "rigs" at all times at the service of officers and soldiers, when the post ambulance was forbidden by an unfeeling government. He had a corral and stockade that had more than once bidden stout defiance to both the law and the lawless. He had, so the fort children firmly believed, a subterranean pa.s.sage from his stockade to the sentry-lines. He was hated by both sheriff and sutler in days when the latter lived and thrived; he overreached the one, undersold the other, and outwitted both. He befriended every soldier in a sc.r.a.pe, whether the offence were against the majestic letter of the civil law or only the unimportant spirit of the military. In the eyes of the few he was much of a sinner; in the eyes of the many no less of a saint; and, after careful casting up of accounts, the colonel of the --th Cavalry had declared s.h.i.+ner far more good than bad, treated him accordingly, and won a surprised and devoted friend and ally. Another officer s.h.i.+ner swore by was Dr. Graham, and for reasons similar to those of his fellow, and farther-distant, ranchman Ross.

Yet Geordie had often heard of mysterious doings at s.h.i.+ner's that would not bear official investigation--had heard and kept silent. In those days s.h.i.+ner dwelt close under the sheltering wing of a sympathetic garrison. Now, if still there, he must be living in the light, and for the first time it dawned upon Geordie that what he heard of s.h.i.+ner in by-gone days and kept to himself, he could not hear and know and keep to himself now. It was one thing to be a garrison boy; it was another to be an officer in the army of the United States.

The instant that it dawned upon him that Nolan and his friends were heading across country for s.h.i.+ner's old plant, riding hard in the belief that they were pursued by rail, it flashed upon him that he could not join Nolan there--indeed, he must, if a possible thing, guide or direct him elsewhere.

Already the pursued were through the ford and, with dripping flanks, were scrambling up the opposite sh.o.r.e. Already big 705 was almost abreast of them, and in another moment would be swiftly speeding by.

It was two years since Geordie last set eyes on Nolan, but there was no mistaking, even at that distance, the tall, gaunt figure and the practised seat in saddle. Behind him trailed three comrades, two of whom, at least, were tyros in the art of horsemans.h.i.+p. They were hanging on for dear life as their steeds labored on after the leader.

The object of all four was obviously to get beyond easy rifle range of the rus.h.i.+ng train before drawing rein to reconnoitre, and now, probably noting that the engine was driving on full speed, with no sign of stopping, the tall horseman in the lead circled swiftly to his right, along the crest of a low ridge perhaps three hundred yards away, then peered from under his broad hatbrim at the supposed enemy.

And then it was that Graham and Toomey, both, sprang back to the coal-pile in the tender, clambered high as possible on the s.h.i.+fting slope, and, balancing as best they could, whipped off their caps, swung them joyously about their heads, and eagerly gave the old-time, well-known cavalry signal, "Forward!" "Forward!" They saw Nolan and his friends seated on their panting horses, staring after them in amaze and wonderment, then resolutely following.

A mile now would bring them whistling by the site of old Fort Reynolds, and a lump rose in Geordie's throat, for the weather-beaten, ramshackle stables came in view as the Mogul rounded a long, easy curve, and there, beyond them and on the level bench before them, stood the trim rows of officers' quarters, now deserted and tenantless, yet guarded by the single sergeant and his little squad of men. To the right, afar up the track near the foot-bridge and ford, lay the station building, wellnigh useless now since the greater interests and industries, that had made the railway possible and forced the Indian farther back, had also fouled the mountain stream and spoiled the site for a cavalry post.

There stood the freight sheds; there were the chutes for horses and mules; there, beyond them, the now abandoned office and waiting-room; and there, still glistening white and towering, the semaph.o.r.e signal-mast of the railway; and then and there, sure and sudden, there dropped the black arm straight across and above their glistening path in the never-to-be-neglected order--Stop!

Big Ben's lined face went swiftly gray through its coat of grime, but the firm hand did its instant work with the throttle. Then, swinging from his seat, he grasped the glistening lever and, peering intently forward, stood ready to throw it in reverse. Toomey sprang for the cord and jerked one fierce toot out of the whistle, the old-time signal for down-brakes before Westinghouse and his science put everything at the touch of the engineer. Almost at the moment the swift rush of the train became jarring and rough. Two daring men scampered, monkey-like, along the top of the cars, twisting a brake on each, then darting to the next. A furious gust of steam tore from the escape-valve and streamed away overhead. Not a thing was in sight on the track, not a soul on the platform, to account for the alarming signal. A switch-target clanked as they tore over the points; a vagrant dog scurried away toward the once thriving saloon, and not until they drove in, hissing, grinding, and b.u.mping, to the side of the dusty platform, did Ben's keen eyes catch sight of two herdsmen's horses--cow ponies--tethered back of the shanty beside the saloon, and up went the lid of his box at the instant, in went his right hand, and then out it came full grasp on a brown-barrelled six-shooter.

CHAPTER IX

BAD NEWS FROM THE MINES

"A hold-up," muttered Toomey, as, obedient to Big Ben's orders, "Duck, you two!" he and Geordie crouched for the moment in the dark interior of the cab. But who would hold up a freight bound to, not away from, the mines? Twice, thrice, indeed, since the cavalry had been sent from Fort Reynolds, the overland express had been flagged between Argenta and Summit Siding, and masked men had boarded the train, despoiled the pa.s.sengers and Pullmans; and once old s.h.i.+ner had come under suspicion because certain plunder was found at his place.

"The robbers are discharged soldiers," swore the sheriff of Yampah; "their haunt is at s.h.i.+ner's." Yet not so much as a sc.r.a.p of other evidence was there found. s.h.i.+ner threw open his doors to the officers, bade them search high and low, declared upon honor as he would upon oath that he himself had found the damaging evidence--two pocket-books and some valueless papers--on the open prairie a mile from his place the day after the third of the "hold-ups." There had long been bad blood betwixt him and the sheriff, and this time the man of the law gave the lie, and but for prompt work of bystanders--deputy s.h.i.+ners and sheriffs both--there would have been cause for a coroner's inquest on the spot. Before that day it had been avowed hostility between them; now it was war to the knife. Much of this was known to the men of the railway, who sided according to their lights. Few of them knew s.h.i.+ner; many knew the sheriff. It was patent at a glance that Big Ben held to the views of the latter and looked upon s.h.i.+ner's hand, or s.h.i.+ner's hands, as the cause of the hold-up. Nor was he entirely wrong. Even as Cullin came running up the track from the rear of the train, and brakemen running atop of it, eager to learn the cause of the stop, two men with saddle-bags slung over the left arm stepped out from behind the pa.s.senger depot and met the conductor half-way. Glancing back, Ben caught sight of them and, pistol in hand, started to swing from the engine, crying "Come on!" to Toomey. Springing to his feet, Toomey gave one look back to the platform. His keen eyes danced with excitement and joy. "Hold on!" he shouted to Ben. "It's all right. Lay low," he whispered to Geordie. "It's s.h.i.+ner himself!"

And old s.h.i.+ner it was, cool, quiet, pale, resolute in face of a furious conductor and a threatening crew--s.h.i.+ner, presently backed by a sergeant of regulars and two of his men, who had come running over the foot-bridge at the stop of the train, and now silently ranged themselves in tacit support. What Cullin had demanded was how s.h.i.+ner dared tamper with the signals--how, in fact, he had managed to, since they had been carefully locked--and who was he, anyhow. And s.h.i.+ner had simply answered: "I've a boy shot and dying at Silver s.h.i.+eld. I only heard it late in the night. There's no other way to get to him. I pay full fare and all damages"--but he got no further, for Toomey came atrot from the engine, threw himself upon him, and grasped his hand.

"What's the trouble, old man?" was the instant question.

And s.h.i.+ner, turning, saw an old friend and beneficiary, and should have taken heart at the sight. Instead of which, at sound of a sympathetic voice, he who had been firm and fearless in the face of abuse and opposition now wellnigh broke down. "They've killed--little Jack!" he almost sobbed. "Thank G.o.d _you're_ here, Toomey!"

"Of course you'll take him!" cried Toomey, turning sharp on Cullin.

"Of course I _won't_ take him!" snarled Cullin, wrath and temper stiffening his back, "but the law shall, quick as I can fix it. Back to your cab, both of you!" he waved, for Ben, too, was bulkily climbing the platform steps. "Pull out at once and don't you stop for no more snidework!"

"And leave this man here?" shouted Toomey. "Then you can do your own firing from here on, Cullin. Hold on, Ben, till I get my things off.

You can obey if you like, but it's the last run I make with this--faugh! And you say _you've_ been a soldier!" It was Toomey's chance, after weeks of pent-up rage for battle, and he couldn't throw it away. Seeing that Ben, dull, heavy, and uncomprehending, was staring stupidly about him, not knowing what to do; seeing that even Cullin was melting at sight of the grief in s.h.i.+ner's face; seeing the sympathy in the eyes of the bluecoats and the shame in those of the brakemen, Toomey turned loose on his adversary, and Toomey, when fairly started, could talk to the point. It was a tongue-las.h.i.+ng, indeed, and one that left the conductor no chance to reply.

"It's 'gainst orders, and you know it, Toomey," was his futile gasp, when Toomey stopped for breath.

"'Gainst orders you've broken time and again, and you know it! 'Gainst orders Bob Anthony would break your head for not breaking! It's 'gainst orders for you to pull out now when you're blocked, till you get further orders--and yet you say go."

"How can I get orders without a man or a wire at the station?" burst in Cullin, grasping at straws. "How can I get authority to take this man along? He's liable to arrest anyhow for tampering with the signals."

And then another voice was interjected, another disputant stepped quickly forward, and Toomey checked himself in the first breath of an impa.s.sioned outburst; his black hand suddenly shot half-way up to the cap-visor, then came down with a jerk; his heels had clicked together and his knees straightened out, then as suddenly went limp. The new-comer had sprung up the steps. The form was slender and sinewy.

Hands, face, and dress were black with soot, but the young voice was deep and the ring of accustomed command was in every word. "That's your cue, Mr. Cullin. Arrest him and fetch him along." Then turning to Toomey: "There's no one at the cab. Better get back, quick!" he added.

And Toomey went.

Big Ben gave one look and, without a word, waddled after his fireman.

The tears that stood in old s.h.i.+ner's eyes dashed away at the brush of a sleeve. A light of astonishment, comprehension, relief suddenly gleamed in their place. The sergeant stared for a moment, looked blankly at his men, then side-stepped for another long gaze at the new-comer's face.

Cullin turned sharply, resentful at first at the tone of authority, wrath in his heart and rebuke on his tongue, but then came sudden reminder of Anthony's card--the card the strange young fellow had presented only when needed to convince, the card he had been so sagacious as to retain, the card that proclaimed him a friend of the powers and a person to be considered. Moreover, the friend and person had suggested a means by which actual surrender to the situation might appear as virtual and moral victory. One more look at s.h.i.+ner and then s.h.i.+ner settled it. "I submit to arrest, Mr. Cullin. Let me go with you--and settle."

"Get aboard the caboose," was the gruff answer, and, all apparent meekness, s.h.i.+ner obeyed. "Not you," added Cullin, as s.h.i.+ner's saddle-bag-bearing friend would have followed. "Give me the bags," said s.h.i.+ner, "and you look to--" A significant glance at the signal told the rest. Cullin followed it with his eyes, saw the arm still lowered to the "stop," knew that it should not be left there, and for a moment held back.

"_He_'ll fix it," said s.h.i.+ner, from the platform of the caboose, while his eyes sought the face of the tall young fellow at Cullin's back.

Cullin strode to the corner of the office and followed the ranchman with curious eyes. That sun-tanned, bow-legged person straddled down the back steps, his big spurs jingling, a high boot-heel catching on next to the lowermost and pitching him forward. He clamped his broadbrim on his head with one hand and steadied his holster with the other, straightened up with half-stifled expletive, and the next minute was swarming up the slender iron rungs of the signal-ladder. "He's got to prop it up where it belongs," said the sergeant. "Reckon he must have shot the wire that held it." And of a truth the wire was severed.

But when Cullin turned back to his train with the mystery cleared, the sight and sound of new commotion blocked his own signal to start.

Two hors.e.m.e.n, on foam-spattered broncos, were spurring vehemently down the road from the eastward ridge. Two others were trailing exhaustedly two hundred lengths behind, only just feebly popping over the divide.

And to these persons both his prisoner and his prisoner's advocate, who were clasping hands as he whirled and saw them, were now signalling cheer and encouragement. Ten cars ahead, at the cab, Big Ben and Toomey, too, were leaning far out and eagerly watching the chase; the sergeant and his men, wondering much at the sight, but professionally impa.s.sive, strode to the end of the platform for better view, then all of a sudden began to shout and swing their caps, and before Cullin could recover from his surprise the foremost rider, tall, spare, with long, grizzled mustache and fiery eyes, threw himself from saddle and came bounding up the steps. He was surrounded in an instant, only one man hanging back. The slender young fellow in the grimy cap and overalls quietly stepped into the dark interior of the caboose.

In the glare of the unclouded suns.h.i.+ne, breathing hard from his exertion, his hand grasped successively by s.h.i.+ner and the three soldiers, the veteran trooper told his hurried tale, while, one after another, his followers, wellnigh exhausted, labored after him, and finally rolled stiffly to _terra firma_ at the station, their wretched livery mounts, with dripping, quivering flanks and drooping heads, stood straddling close at hand, too utterly used up to stagger away.

Nolan's story was brief but explicit. Somebody in the swarm that overwhelmed the Narrow Gauge train the previous night had crept back to town after midnight and started the story that young Breifogle had been slugged by the gang. By early morning it got to the father's ears. With the sheriff and some friends he had driven down in the wake of No. 4, found plenty of men who could tell of the mobbing, but none who could tell of his son. The miners had scattered; the few pa.s.sengers also, glad that they were not "wanted" by that infuriated crowd. It was then after sunrise, and, almost crazed by anxiety and wrath, Breifogle had hurried back to Argenta. His first thought seemed to be vengeance on Nolan, whom rumor declared the ringleader of his son's a.s.sailants, and a warrant was out for his arrest, even as the big Mogul was rolling into the yard, with its dingy-brown train of freight-cars and the battered body of that luckless youth, Nolan's a.s.sailant at Silver s.h.i.+eld.

The first full peril of his situation broke upon Nolan the instant the news was rushed to him. Innocent of any part in the a.s.sault though he was--ignorant of it, in fact, until dawn--he well knew that every artifice would be played against him, and that all the power, the means, and methods of the Breifogle clique would be lavishly used. Long imprisonment would be sure, harsh trial certain, acquittal improbable, hanging almost a certainty.

"Away with you! Get back to the mines and the mountains!" was the instant warning, and without the loss of a minute, mounted on such horses as his friends could hire, he and three of his trustiest followers had galloped away. They thought the sheriff was at their heels when the Fast Freight came thundering after them, but hailed, with amaze and joy, the signal from the tender, and, feeling sure the train would await them here, had spurred on to the station.

"You'll send the horses back for us, will you, sergeant?" he finished.

Then eagerly, "Now, conductor, shall we pull out for Summit?"

"Pull out for nothing," was the astounding answer. "You know perfectly no Time Freight on this road takes a pa.s.senger of any kind, and it would be more'n my job's worth to take you!"

"Then, in G.o.d's name, why did you signal?" was the almost agonized question.

"Signal be jiggered! I never signalled. No man of _my_ crew signalled.

If you want to get back to the mines, stay here and flag No. 5. She'll be along at eleven."