XX
A PRISONER
When the early-morning mail train stopped at Yellow Creek Junction onTuesday, Alex was at the little box-car station to greet Jack Orr andWilson Jennings. Jack, who had not met Wilson before the latter boardedthe train at Bonepile, had taken a liking to the easterner at once, andconfided to Alex that he was "the real goods," despite the "streak ofdude."
"We ought to have some good times together," Jack predicted, as, withlively interest, he and Wilson accompanied Alex back toward thenondescript but businesslike-looking boarding-train.
Jack's hope, as far as it concerned the three boys being together, wassoon shattered. As they reached the telegraph-car, Superintendent Finnanappeared, and having cordially shaken hands with Jack and Wilson, turnedto Alex. "Ward," he said, "I have just decided to send you on to theAntelope viaduct. A courier has brought word from Norton, the engineer incharge, that trouble appears to be brewing amongst his Italian laborers,and I would like to get in direct touch with him. The telegraph line wasstrung within two miles of the bridge yesterday, and should reachNorton's camp to-day. How soon could you start?"
"As soon as I have breakfast, sir," responded Alex, stifling hisdisappointment. "It's twenty miles there, isn't it, Mr. Finnan? How am Ito go?"
"You can ride a horse?"
"Yes, sir."
"Elder will have a pony here for you by the time you are ready. And youhad better take an extra blanket with you," advised the superintendent ashe turned away. "You will be living in a tent, you know."
Half an hour later Alex, mounted on a spirited little cow-pony, with afew necessities in a sweater, strapped to the saddle, and a blanket overhis shoulder, army fashion, waved a good-by to Jack and Wilson, and wasoff over the prairie at a lope, following the telegraph poles.
It was a beautiful morning, and with the sun shining and the sparklingair brushing his cheeks and tingling in his nostrils, Alex quickly forgothis disappointment at being so quickly separated from Jack and Wilson,and soon was enjoying every minute of his ride. Keeping on steadily at ahand-gallop, before he realized he had covered half the distance, he cameupon the wire-stringing and pole-erecting gangs. A half mile farther, along, dark break appeared in the plain, and a muffled din of poundingbegan to reach him. And pushing ahead, Alex drew up on the brink of awide, deep gully, from either side of which reached out a great woodenframe, dotted with busy men.
It was the bed of the old Antelope river, which years before had changedits course, and which the railroad finally proposed crossing with apermanent fill.
Directly below, in a group of shrubby trees on the border of the stonycreek which alone remained of the river, was a village of white tents.From Alex's feet a rough trail slanted downward toward it. Giving hispony free rein, he descended.
"Where is Mr. Norton?" he asked of a water-boy at the foot of the path.
"That's him at the table in front of the middle tent," the boy directed.Thanking him, Alex urged the pony forward, and leaped to the groundbeside a dark-haired, energetic young man bending over a sheet offigures.
"I am the operator Mr. Finnan sent on," Alex announced as the engineerlooked up.
"Glad to meet you," said the engineer, cordially rising and extending hishand. "You are a trifle young for this rough work, though, are you not?"he ventured, noting Alex's youthful face. "You are not the operator whocaught that K. & Z. man Sunday?"
"I helped catch him," Alex corrected.
"You'll do, then," said Norton. "And I'll give you a place here in my owntent," he added, turning and entering a small marquee, followed by Alex.
"This corner will be yours, and the box your 'office.' It will do for theinstruments?"
"Fine," responded Alex.
As the wire-stringing gang was not due to reach the viaduct beforemid-afternoon, on completing his arrangements in the tent, Alex set outfor a tour of his new surroundings. Climbing up the western slope of thegully, he found a large gang of foreigners, mostly Italians, working in acutting. Judging that this was the gang which was causing the anxiety,Alex paused some moments to watch them.
Scattered over a system of miniature track, the men were shovelling earthinto strings of small dump-cars, which when filled were run out over thecompleted western end of the viaduct, and dumped. As Alex stood regardingthe active scene, a string of cars rumbled toward him from one of themore distant sidings. Others had been pushed by several men. This wasbeing driven by a single burly giant. With admiration Alex watched.Suddenly a sense of something familiar about the figure stirred withinhim. The man came opposite, and Alex uttered an involuntary ejaculation.It was Big Tony, the Italian who had led the trouble amongst the trackmenat Bixton two years back, and with whom he had had the thrillingencounter at the old brick-yard.
When the Italian glanced toward him, Alex started back. But the foreignerdid not recognize the young operator, with his two years of rapid growth,and passed on. Breathing a sigh of relief, Alex turned and made his wayto the foreman in charge of the gang.
"How do you do," he said, introducing himself. "Who is that big Italianpushing the string of cars alone?"
"Tony Martino. The best man in the gang," responded the foreman. "Why? Doyou know him?"
"He was on a surfacing-gang near my father's station two years ago," saidAlex, "and caused no end of trouble. He was discharged finally."
"He must have reformed, then," the foreman declared. "He's certainly thebest man we have--more than willing, and strong as an ox."
"He had nothing to do with the trouble you have had here, then?"
"He helped me put it down," said the foreman. "No; I only wish we had afew more like him."
Alex passed on, thoughtful. At Bixton Big Tony had been no moreremarkable for his willingness to work than for his peaceableness. Had hereally changed for the better? Or was it possible he was "playingpossum," to cover the carrying-out of some plan of revenge against theroad?
Three evenings later, a beautiful, moonlit night, Alex left the camp fora stroll. To obtain a look up and down the old river-bed by themoonlight, he made his way out on the now nearly completed viaduct.
As he stood gazing down the ravine to the south, a half-mile distant adark figure passed over a bright patch of sand. It was quickly lost inthe dark background beyond. But not before Alex had recognized theunmistakable figure and walk of the Italian, Big Tony. His suspicions atonce awakened, Alex was but a moment in deciding to follow the foreigner,and returning to the eastern bank, he scrambled down to the gully bottom,and hastily followed, keeping well in the shadows on the eastern side ofthe ravine.
Reaching the spot at which he had seen the Italian, he went on morecautiously. A quarter-mile farther the ravine swung abruptly to the west.As Alex arrived at the bend, subdued voices reached him. Continuingcautiously, and keeping to the deepest shadows, Alex reached a clump ofwillow bushes.
He glanced beyond, and in a patch of moonlight discovered Big Tony inconversation with an almost equally tall stranger, apparently a cowboy.The latter's back was toward him.
The stranger turned, and Alex drew back with a start, and then a smile.
It was the second man of the two who on the previous Sunday had attemptedto wreck the track-machine--the one who had made his escape.
As the man turned more fully, and he caught his words, Alex's jubilantsmile vanished.
"... enough to blow the whole thing to matchwood, if you place it right,"he was saying.
There was no doubt what this meant. They were planning to blow up theviaduct.
"Oh, I fixa it alla right, alla right," declared Big Tony confidently."No fear. I usa da dynamite all-aready. I blow up da beega da houseonce."
"A house and a big wooden bridge are quite different propositions. And awooden bridge isn't to be blown up like a stone or iron affair, youknow."
"Suppose you come, taka da look, see my plan all-aright, den," theItalian suggested. "No one on disa side da bridge, to see, disa timenight."
The cowman hesitated.
"Well, all right. It would be best to make sure.
"We don't want to carry this, though. Where'll we put it?"
As he spoke the man leaned over and picked up a good-sized parcel done upin brown paper. From the careful way he handled it there could be nodoubt of its contents. It was the dynamite they proposed using.
"Here, I fin' da place."
Alex caught his breath at the display of carelessness with which theforeigner took the deadly package. Backing into a nearby clump of bushes,Big Tony stooped and placed the dynamite on the ground, well beneath thebranches.
"Dere. No one see dat. Come!"
As the two conspirators strode toward him, Alex crept closer into theshadows of the willows. Passing almost within touch of him, theycontinued up the gully, and soon were out of sight.
Before the footsteps of the two men had died away Alex was sittingupright, debating a suggestion that caused him to smile. With decision hearose, approached the bush under which the dynamite was concealed, andreaching beneath with both hands, very carefully brought the packageforth and placed it on the ground in the moonlight. With great caution hethen undid the twine securing the parcel, and opened it. On discovering asecond wrapping of paper within, he uttered an exclamation ofsatisfaction. Lifting out the inner parcel intact, he glanced about, andchoosing a group of bushes some distance away, carried the dynamite thereand concealed it. Returning, he secured the piece of outer wrappingpaper, and proceeded to carry out his idea.
Where the moonlight struck the western wall of the gully was a bed ofcracked, sun-baked clay. Making his way thither, Alex found a fragment alittle larger than the package of dynamite, and with his knife proceededto trim it into a square. Carefully then he wrapped this in the brownpaper, and wound it about with the cord just as the original parcel wassecured. And with a smile Alex placed this under the bush from which hehad taken the genuine package.
"Dynamite with that as much as you please, Mr. Tony," he laughed as heturned away.
When Alex had covered half the distance in returning to the viaduct hebegan keeping a sharp lookout ahead for the returning of the Italian andhis companion. He was within a hundred yards of the great white structurewhen he discovered them. Turning aside, he concealed himself behind asmall spruce.
With no apprehension of danger Alex waited, and the two men cameopposite. Suddenly, without a motion of warning, the two turned anddarted toward him, one on either side of the tree. Before Alex hadrecovered from his astonishment he found himself seized on either side,and threateningly ordered to be silent.
They dragged him on some distance, then into the moonlight. "Why, it'sone of the fellows who captured Bucks on Sunday!" declared the cowboy."What are you doing here, boy?" he demanded angrily.
"I was out for a moonlight stroll," Alex responded, stifling hisapprehension.
"Why did you hide behind that tree, then?"
"Well--perhaps I was afraid," said Alex vaguely. "There are some roughpeople here among the foreign laborers."
As he spoke Alex noted with new alarm that the Italian was regarding himsharply. He turned his back more fully to the moonlight. Immediately hechided himself for his stupidity. The move emphasized the strugglingsense of recognition in the Italian's mind, he smartly turned Alex's facefull to the moon, and uttered a cry in Italian.
"Now I know! I know!" he cried exultingly. "I know heem before! And he aspy! A boy spy!"
Rapidly he gave the stranger a distorted account of the strike at Bixton,and Alex's part in his final discomfiture.
The cowman listened closely. "Is that so, boy?" he demanded.
"Partly. But it was not a strike. It was a simple piece of murderousrevenge against one man, the section-foreman. And I helped spoil it."
"Good. That's all I want to know," said the cowboy with decision. "Notthat I care one way or the other about the affair itself. It shows youare a dangerous man to leave around loose. I'll just take you along withme. Come on!"
"Come? Where?" said Alex, holding back in alarm.
"Never mind! Just come!" Securing a new hold on Alex's arms, the speakerand the Italian dragged him with them back down the gorge.
As they neared the spot at which the dynamite was supposed to be safelyhidden, the stranger halted abruptly, studied Alex intently a moment,then sent Big Tony on ahead, after a whispered word in his ear.
Alex knew the foreigner had gone to learn whether the dynamite had beentouched. In suspense he awaited the result. Would the Italian bedeceived? Would he notice the new footprints about the bush?
Big Tony returned. "All-aright," he announced. Alex breathed a sigh ofrelief, and continued forward with his captors.
They proceeded some distance in silence, and presently Alex hadsufficiently plucked up courage to again ask what they proposed doingwith him.
"I'm going to take you where you will be out of mischief, that's all,"replied the unknown cowman. As he spoke he halted, looked about, andresigning Alex to the guardianship of the Italian, disappeared in theshadow of an over-hang of the ravine. A moment later there was a clatterof hoofs, and he reappeared leading a horse.
"Make heem rida too?" questioned Big Tony.
"Hardly," responded the cowman, at the same time freeing and swinging alariat from the saddle-horn. "He's going to trot along behind me like theblame little coyote he is.
"Hold out your hands, kid!" he ordered. Seeing resistance was useless,Alex reluctantly complied. Running the noose of the lassoo about theboy's wrists, the cowman tightened it, and secured it with several knots.Swinging into the saddle, he fixed the other end to the saddle-horn.
"You may go now, Tony," he said to the foreigner as he caught up thereins and headed the pony toward a path to the surface which Alex had notnoticed.
"Gooda night, Meester Munson. And gooda-by, smart boy," said the Italian."Lucky for you I havanta my way. 'Scrugk!' That's what you get," hedeclared, drawing his hand across his throat.
"Munson, eh?" murmured Alex as the lassoo tightened, and he stumbled upthe path behind the pony. "That's another good thing learned."
Arrived at the surface, his captor halted to look about, then set offacross the plains due south, at a walk, Alex trailing after at the end ofthe rope.
The situation was not without its humorous side, it occurred to Alexafter his first apprehension had worn off. When a few minutes later thepony broke into a slow canter, and he was forced into an awkwarddog-trot, a chuckle broke from him.
The man ahead turned in surprise. "Well, you're sure a game one," heobserved. "Imagine it's funny, eh?"
"I was thinking how I would look to some of my friends, if they could seeme here," explained Alex good-naturedly. "Trotting along like a littledog on a string."
The cowman pulled up and laughed. "Youngster, you're all right," he saidheartily. "I'm sorry you're--that is--"
"On the wrong side?" suggested Alex, smiling.
"Very well. Let it go at that. Look here! If I take that thing off, willyou promise to come along, and not play any tricks?"
"Yes, I will," agreed Alex readily. For he saw there was little chance ofmaking his escape from the horseman on an open plain.
"Hold up your hands, then," directed the cowboy. Alex complied, andquickly he was free.
"How far are we going?" he asked as they moved on, Alex walking abreast.
"About twenty miles," replied the cowman.