Ralph, the Train Dispatcher; Or, The Mystery of the Pay Car

by Mrs. Molesworth

  CHAPTER XXIII

  ONE MINUTE AFTER TWELVE

  The young railroader of Stanley Junction realized that he had assumed noordinary risk or responsibility in acting the role of a trustedmessenger in behalf of the old telegrapher in the train dispatcher'soffice at headquarters.

  The situation at Derby had become an exciting and a critical one. Herewas Ralph, the factory foreman and this tramp acquaintance cut off fromthe town, isolated in a lonely spot and surrounded by desperate anddangerous men who were bent on a mission of wreck and ruin.

  Bartlett looked a little blank. The tramp grinned as was his wont. Helooked as if he would not be sorry to engage in the "ruction" he hadtalked about, to get even with his treacherous enemies.

  Ralph had grown a trifle uneasy. If the lawyer did not put in anappearance, it was difficult to foresee how affairs would turn out. Hedid not rely much on Bartlett's Winchester or the brawny fists of thetramp. The young train dispatcher had seen some pretty sharp anddefinite work done in the name of the law during a railroad strike, andfrom what he had heard of Dorsett he did not believe he would make araid on the plant until he was very certain of successfully carrying outhis wicked plans.

  Ralph paced the floor of the little office lost in deep thought. Theforeman watched him grimly from the corner of one eye. The tramp,lounging amid the unusual luxury of a big swivel chair, seemed enjoyinghugely the comfort of the well-heated room and ready for anything thatcame along, now that he was no longer cold or hungry. He, too, watchedRalph, and as the latter with a kind of start: stopped in his walk andhis face lightened up, the tramp drawled out:

  "Something struck you, guv'nor--give it a voice."

  "You're pretty sharp," said Ralph, with a smile at the speaker. Then hewalked over to the foreman. "Mr. Bartlett," he continued, "I'd like totake a look through your plant here, if you've no objection."

  "None at all, only I wonder why?" submitted Bartlett, with a searchingglance at Ralph.

  "I was thinking of something," explained Ralph--"how to beat thosefellows who are coming here at midnight."

  "I hope you've hit it!" exclaimed the foreman eagerly.

  "We shall see."

  Bartlett took a lantern, and leaving the tramp in the office he ledRalph into the large room adjoining. It was filled with long flat vatsfilled with some dark liquid. There was a sulphurous smell to the place.The foreman made no explanations until he reached the furnace room.

  "You see those big tanks?" he spoke now. "Those are the melters. Mr.Glidden spent a great deal of money to get them right. Run up thatladder at the side and look over the rim."

  Ralph did so. The tank he looked into was filled with bars that lookedlike lead, with smaller fragments of a darker metal and great chunksthat resembled resin. When he came down to the floor he opened the doorof the furnace underneath and peered in. His face took on a satisfiedlook.

  "See here," said Bartlett, as they reentered the big room on their wayback to the office. "Those pipes running from each furnace convey themolten metal into those vats. There is a great hissing and bubbling, Ican tell you. It's a sort of red-hot cyaniding process. The fumes,though! No man could walk through this room when the pour is on and comeout alive."

  "You don't say so?" murmured Ralph. Then he went up close to the foremanand took him by lapel of his coat.

  "Mr. Bartlett," he said, "I see you are all ready to fire up."

  "At a minute's notice," replied the foreman, with a gleam of pride inhis eye.

  "I suppose within an hour, two hours, you could get those melters so hotthey are red all through?"

  "Pretty nigh, I tell you."

  "And you could fill this room here with fumes that would make a manhesitate about crossing the dead line, until you got ready to shut offthe feeders?"

  "You couldn't hit it closer if you'd been brought up to the business,"declared the foreman with unction.

  "Good. Now then--whisper."

  They were near the office door. Ralph talked rapidly in a low tone intothe ear of his companion. The latter gave a great start. Then hegrinned. Then, alive with animation, he clapped Ralph mightily on theback.

  "Lad," he cried with enthusiasm, "you're better than the lawyer and thewhole constable force of Derby put together."

  "What do you say about my plan?" inquired Ralph.

  "Say--bully for you, that's what I say!" almost shouted the factoryforeman.

  "If you start at eleven o'clock you'll be ready when that gang arrives?"

  "Ready, and time to spare. Say, but you've been thinking to somepurpose."

  The foreman burst into a gay whistle as he reentered the office. Thetramp regarded him searchingly, and then looked at Ralph as if he halfguessed that they were up to something. He was too indolent, however, todelve for the facts.

  The lawyer did not put in an appearance, Ralph knew by the whistles justwhat trains were arriving at Derby. The 8 p. m. came and passed on itsway. Then the 10:30. By five minutes of eleven Ralph decided that thelawyer must have missed connection in some way, for he did not arrive atthe plant.

  Just as the office clock struck eleven, Ralph arose from his chair andwalked up in front of the tramp.

  "Do you want to earn a few dollars?" he inquired.

  "Sure, that's me," answered the man--"what doing?"

  "Helping Mr. Bartlett here. It will be hot work, but he'll do most ofit, he tells me."

  "Oh, in the factory here."

  "Yes."

  "I'd rather stay here in the office and handle that Winchester when themob comes," observed the tramp.

  "You can do ten times as much good doing what I want you to do."

  "Will it have anything to do with knocking out Dorsett's plans?"

  "Everything."

  The tramp arose to his feet like a jumping jack, his face wearing aneager grin.

  "Guv'nor," he said, "I'd trust you in most anything. I'd like to have afront seat out here to see the fun when the show begins, but if my beingbehind the scenes helps, depend on me."

  "I do," said Ralph. "You go with Mr. Bartlett."

  Ralph sat down as the two men disappeared. He listened attentively tothe sounds from the melting room. Soon the big blast chimney began toroar, and glancing out of the window Ralph could see fitful red gleamsshoot out upon the snow.

  There was a speaking tube running from the office to Bartlett's post ofduty. Soon it whistled, and the foreman announced:

  "All ready."

  "So am I," mused Ralph, as he counted the minutes roll away. He tried toimagine just what was going to happen and how he would meet the crisiswhen it arrived.

  Midnight came, and one minute after twelve. Five, ten, fifteen minutespassed away. Then Ralph bent his ear. Some kind of a conveyance wascoming down the turnpike. He could hear the ring of a horse's hoofs andthe hard wheels crunching the frozen snow.

  Ralph picked up a newspaper and pretended to read it, looking ascomfortable and unconcerned as possible.

  "Whoa!" sounded a loud voice outside.

  Then other voices mingled in confusion. Some one came to the window andpeered in. There was a muffled consultation outside. Finally athunderous knock sounded at the door, and a stentorian voice shoutedout:

  "Open--in the name of the law!"