VIII
BENSON'S BRIDGE-TIMBERS
It was on the morning following the startling episode at the Dawsons'gate that Benson, lately arrived from the west on train 204, came intothe superintendent's office with the light of discovery in his eye. Butthe discovery, if any there were, was made to wait upon a word offriendly solicitude.
"What's this they were telling me down at the lunch-counter justnow--about somebody taking a pot-shot at you last night?" he asked."Dougherty said it was Bart Rufford; was it?"
Lidgerwood confirmed the gossip with a nod. "Yes, it was Rufford, soDawson says. I didn't recognize him, though; it was too dark."
"Well, I'm mighty glad to see that he didn't get you. What was the row?"
"I don't know, definitely; I suppose it was because I told McCloskey todischarge his brother a while back. The brother has been hanging abouttown and making threats ever since he was dropped from the pay-rolls,but no one has paid any attention to him."
"A pretty close call, wasn't it?--or was Dougherty only putting on a fewfrills to go with my cup of coffee?"
"It was close enough," admitted Lidgerwood half absently. He wasthinking not so much of the narrow escape as of the fresh andhumiliating evidence it had afforded of his own wretched unreadiness.
"All right; you'll come around to my way of thinking after a while. Itell you, Lidgerwood, you've got to heel yourself when you live in a guncountry. I said I wouldn't do it, but I have done it, and I'll tell youright now, when anybody in this blasted desert makes monkey-motions atme, I'm going to blow the top of his head off, quick."
Lidgerwood's gaze was resting on the little drawer in his desk which nowcontained nothing but a handful of loose cartridges.
"Hasn't it ever occurred to you, Jack, that I am the one man in thedesert who cannot afford to go armed? I am supposed to stand for law andorder. What would my example be worth if it should be noised around thatI, too, had become a 'gun-toter'?"
"Oh, I'm not going to argue with you," laughed Benson. "You'll go yourown way and do as you please, and probably get yourself comfortably shotup before you get through. But I didn't come up here to wrangle with youabout your theoretical notions of law and order. I came to tell you thatI have been hunting for those bridge-timbers of mine."
"Well?" queried Lidgerwood; "have you found them?"
"No, and I don't believe anybody will ever find them. It's going to beanother case of Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to becomforted because they are not."
"But you have discovered something?"
"Partly yes, and partly no. I think I told you at the time that theyvanished between two days like a puff of smoke, leaving no trace behindthem. How it was done I couldn't imagine. There is a wagon-roadparalleling the river over there at the Siding, as you know, and thefirst thing I did the next morning was to look for wagon-tracks. No setof wheels carrying anything as heavy as those twelve-by-twelvetwenty-fours had gone over the road."
"How were they taken, then? They couldn't have been floated off down theriver, could they?"
"It was possible, but not at all probable," said the engineer. "Mytheory was that they were taken away on somebody's railroad car. Therewere only two sources of information, at first--the night operator atLittle Butte twelve miles west, and the track-walker at Point-of-Rocks,whose boat goes down to within two or three miles of the Gloria bridge.Goodloe, at Little Butte, reports that there was nothing moving on themain line after the passing of the midnight freight east; andShaughnessy, the track-walker, is just a plain, unvarnished liar: heknows a lot more than he will tell."
"Still, you are looking a good bit more cheerful than you were lastweek," was Lidgerwood's suggestion.
"Yes; after I got the work started again with a new set of timbers, Ispent three or four days on the ground digging for information like adog after a woodchuck. There are some prospectors panning on the barthree miles up the Gloria, but they knew nothing--or if they knew theywouldn't tell. That was the case with every man I talked to on our sideof the river. But over across the Timanyoni, nearly opposite the mouthof the Gloria, there is a little creek coming in from the north, and onthis creek I found a lone prospector--a queer old chap who hails frommy neck of woods up in Michigan."
"Go on," said Lidgerwood, when the engineer stopped to light his pipe.
"The old man told me a fairy tale, all right," Benson went on. "He wasas full of fancies as a fig is of seeds. I have been trying to believethat what he told me isn't altogether a pipe-dream, but it soundsmightily like one. He says that about two o'clock in the morning ofSaturday, two weeks ago, an engine and a single car backed down from thewest to the Gloria bridge, and a crowd of men swarmed off the train,loaded those bridge-timbers, and ran away with them, going back up theline to the west. He tells it all very circumstantially, though heneglected to explain how he happened to be awake and on guard at anysuch unearthly hour."
"Where was he when he saw all this?"
"On his own side of the river, of course. It was a dark night, and theengine had no headlight. But the loading gang had plenty of lanterns,and he says they made plenty of noise."
"You didn't let it rest at that?" said the superintendent.
"Oh, no, indeed! I put in the entire afternoon that day on a hand-carwith four of my men to pump it for me, and if there is a foot of themain line, side-tracks, or spurs, west of the Gloria bridge, that Ihaven't gone over, I don't know where it is. The next night I crossedthe Timanyoni and tackled the old prospector again. I wanted to checkhim up--see if he had forgotten any of the little frills and details. Hehadn't. On the contrary, he was able to add what seems to me a veryimportant detail. About an hour after the disappearance of the one-cartrain with my bridge-timbers, he heard something that he had heard manytimes before. He says it was the high-pitched song of a circular saw. Iasked him if he was sure. He grinned and said he hadn't been brought upin the Michigan woods without being able to recognize that song whereverhe might hear it."
"Whereupon you went hunting for saw-mills?" asked Lidgerwood.
"That is just what I did, and if there is one within hearing distance ofthat old man's cabin on Quartz Creek, I couldn't find it. But I amconfident that there is one, and that the thieves, whoever they were,lost no time in sawing my bridge-timbers up into board-lumber, and I'llbet a hen worth fifty dollars against a no-account yellow dog that Ihave seen those boards a dozen times within the last twenty-four hours,without knowing it."
"Didn't see anything of our switch-engine while you were looking foryour bridge-timbers and saw-mills and other things, did you?" queriedLidgerwood.
"No," was the quick reply, "no, but I have a think coming on that, too.My old prospector says he couldn't make out very well in the dark, butit seemed to him as if the engine which hauled away our bridge-timbersdidn't have any tender. How does that strike you?"
Lidgerwood grew thoughtful. The missing engine was of the "saddle-tank"type, and it had no tender. It was hard to believe that it could behidden anywhere on so small a part of the Red Butte Western system asthat covered by the comparatively short mileage in Timanyoni Park. Yetif it had not been dumped into some deep pot-hole in the river, it wasunquestionably hidden somewhere.
"Benson, are you sure you went over all the line lying west of theGloria bridge?" he asked pointedly.
"Every foot of it, up one side and down the other ... No, hold on, thereis that old spur running up on the eastern side of Little Butte; it'sthe one that used to serve Flemister's mine when the workings were onthe eastern slope of the butte. I didn't go over that spur. It hasn'tbeen used for years; as I remember it, the switch connections with themain line have been taken out."
"You're wrong about that," said Lidgerwood definitely. "McCloskeythought so too, and told me that the frogs and point-rails had beentaken out at Silver Switch--at both of the main-line ends of the'Y',--but the last time I was over the line I noticed that the oldswitch stands were there, and that the split rails were still in place."
"Say, Lidgerwood, I'm going back to the Park on Extra 71, which ought toleave in about five minutes," he said hurriedly. "Tell me half a dozenthings in just about as many seconds. Has Flemister used that spur sinceyou took charge of the road?"
"No."
"Have you ever suspected him of being mixed up in the looting?"
"I haven't known enough about him to form an opinion."
Benson stepped to the door communicating with the outer office, andclosed it quietly.
"Your man Hallock out there; how is he mixed up with Flemister?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Because, the day before yesterday, when I was on the Little Buttestation platform, talking with Goodloe, I saw Flemister and Hallockwalking down the new spur together. When they saw me, they turned aroundand began to walk back toward the mine."
"Hallock had business with Flemister, I know that much, and he took halfa day off Thursday to go and see him," said the superintendent.
"Do you happen to know what the business was?"
"Yes, I do. He went at my request."
"H'm," said Benson, "another string broken. Never mind; I've got tocatch that train."
"Still after those bridge-timbers?"
"Still after the boards they have probably been sawed into. And before Iget back I am going to know what's at the upper end of that old SilverSwitch 'Y' spur."
The young engineer had been gone less than half an hour, and Lidgerwoodhad scarcely finished reading his mail, when McCloskey opened the door.Like Benson, the trainmaster also had the light of discovery in his eye.
"More thievery," he announced gloomily. "This time they have beenlooting my department. I had ten or twelve thousand feet of high-priced,insulated copper wire, and a dozen or more telephone sets, in thestore-room. Mr. Cumberley had a notion of connecting up all the Angelsdepartments by telephone, and it got as far as the purchasing of thematerial. The wire and all those telephone sets are gone."
"Well?" said Lidgerwood, evenly. The temptation to take it out upon thenearest man was still as strong as ever, but he was growing better ableto resist it.
"I've done what I could," snapped McCloskey, seeming to know what wasexpected of him, "but nobody knows anything, of course. So far as Icould find out, no one of my men has had occasion to go to thestore-room for a week."
"Who has the keys?"
"I have one, and Spurlock, the line-chief, has one. Hallock has thethird."
"Always Hallock!" was the half-impatient comment. "I hope you don'tsuspect him of stealing your wire."
McCloskey tilted his hat over his eyes, and looked truculent enough tofight an entire cavalry troop.
"That's just what I do," he gritted. "I've got him dead to rights thistime. He was in that store-room day before yesterday, or rather nightbefore last. Callahan saw him coming out of there."
Lidgerwood sat back in his chair and smiled. "I don't blame you much,Mac; this thing is getting to be pretty binding upon all of us. But Ithink you are mistaken in your conclusion, I mean. Hallock has beenmaking an inventory of material on hand for the past week or more, andnow that I think of it, I remember having seen your wire and thetelephone sets included in his last sheet of telegraph supplies."
"There it goes again," said the trainmaster sourly. "Every time I get ahalf-hitch on that fellow, something turns up to make it slip. But if Ihad my way about twenty minutes I'd go and choke him till he'd tell mewhat he has done with that wire."
Lidgerwood was smiling again.
"Try to be as fair to him as you can," he advised good-naturedly. "Iknow you dislike him, and probably you have good reasons. But have youstopped to ask yourself what possible use he could make of the stolenmaterial?"
Again McCloskey's hat went to the pugnacious angle. "I don't knowanything any more; you couldn't prove it by me what day of the week itis. But I can tell you one thing, Mr. Lidgerwood"--shaking an emphaticfinger--"Flemister has just put a complete system of wiring andtelephones in his mine, and if he had the stuff for the system shippedin over our railroad, the agent at Little Butte doesn't know anythingabout it. I asked Goodloe, by grapples!"
But even this was unconvincing to the superintendent.
"That proves nothing against Hallock, Mac, as you will see when you cooldown a little," he said.
"I know it doesn't," wrathfully; "nothing proves anything any more. Isuppose I've got to say it again: I'm all in, down and out." And he wentaway, growling to his hat-brim.
Late in the evening of the same day, Benson returned from the west,coming in on a light engine that was deadheading from Red Butte to theAngels shops. He sought out Lidgerwood at once, and flinging himselfwearily into a chair at the superintendent's elbow, made his report ofthe day's doings.
"I have, and I haven't," he said, beginning in the midst of things, ashis habit was. "You were right about the track connection at SilverSwitch. It is in; Flemister put it in himself a month ago when he had acar-load of coal taken up to the back door of his mine."
"Did you go up over the spur?"
"Yes; and I had my trouble for my pains. Before I go any further,Lidgerwood, I'd like to ask you one question: can we afford to quarrelwith Mr. Pennington Flemister?"
"Benson, we sha'n't hesitate a single moment to quarrel with the biggestmine-owner or freight-shipper this side of the Crosswater Hills if wehave the right on our side. Spread it out. What did you find?"
Benson sank a little lower in his chair. "The first thing I found was acouple of armed guards--a pair of tough-looking citizens with gunssagging at their hips, lounging around the Wire-Silver back door. Thereis quite a little nest of buildings at the old entrance to theWire-Silver, and a stockade has been built to enclose them. The old spurruns through a gate in the stockade, and the gate was open; but the twotoughs wouldn't let me go inside. I wrangled with them first, and triedto bribe them afterward, but it was no go. Then I started to walk aroundthe outside of the stockade, which is only a high board fence, and theyobjected to that. Thereupon I told them to go straight to blazes, andwalked away down the spur, but when I got out of sight around the firstcurve I took to the timber on the butte slope and climbed to a pointfrom which I could look over into Flemister's carefully builtenclosure."
"Well, what did you see?"
"Much or little, just as you happen to look at it. There are half adozen buildings in the yard, and two of them are new and unpainted.Sizing them up from a distance, I said to myself that the lumber in themhadn't been very long out of the mill. One of them is evidently thepower-house; it has an iron chimney set in the roof, and the power-plantwas running."
For a little time after Benson had finished his report there wassilence, and Lidgerwood had added many squares to the pencillings on hisdesk blotter before he spoke again.
"You say two of the buildings are new; did you make any inquiries aboutrecent lumber shipments to the Wire-Silver?"
"I did," said the young engineer soberly. "So far as our station recordsshow, Flemister has had no material, save coal, shipped in over eitherthe eastern or the western spur for several months."
"Then you believe that he took your bridge-timbers and sawed them upinto lumber?"
"I do--as firmly as I believe that the sun will rise to-morrow. And thatisn't all of it, Lidgerwood. He is the man who has your switch-engine.As I have said, the power-plant was running while I was up there to-day.The power is a steam engine, and if you'd stand off and listen to ityou'd swear it was a locomotive pulling a light train up an easy grade.Of course, I'm only guessing at that, but I think you will agree with methat the burden of proof lies upon Flemister."
Lidgerwood was nodding slowly. "Yes, on Flemister and some others. Whoare the others, Benson?"
"I have no more guesses coming, and I am too tired to invent any.Suppose we drop it until to-morrow. I'm afraid it means a fight or afuneral, and I am not quite equal
to either to-night."
For a long time after Benson had gone, Lidgerwood sat staring out of hisoffice window at the masthead electrics in the railroad yard. Benson'snews had merely confirmed his own and McCloskey's conclusion that someone in authority was in collusion with the thieves who were raiding thecompany. Sooner or later it must come to a grapple, and he dreaded it.
It was deep in the night when he closed his desk and went to the littleroom partitioned off in the rear of the private office as asleeping-apartment. When he was preparing to go to bed, he noticed thatthe tiny relay on the stand at his bed's head was silent. Afterward,when he tried to adjust the instrument, he found it ruined beyondrepair. Some one had connected its wiring with the electric lightingcircuit, and the tiny coils were fused and burned into solid littlecylinders of copper.
The Taming of Red Butte Western Page 8