In an instant the car leaped from the rails and across the west-bound tracks, dragging the rear end of the freight, including the caboose, after it. Before the dazed train-hands could realize what was happening, the heavy locomotive of a west-bound freight that was pa.s.sing the east-bound train at that moment crashed into the wreck. It struck a tank-car filled with oil. Like a flash of lightning a vast column of fire shot high in the air and billows of flame were roaring in every direction. These leaped from one to another of the derailed cars, until a dozen belonging to both trains, as well as the west-bound locomotive, were enveloped in their cruel embrace.

Conductor Joe escaped somehow, but he was bruised, shaken, and stunned by the suddenness and awfulness of the catastrophe. In spite of his bewilderment, however, his years of training as a brakeman were not forgotten. Casting but a single glance at the blazing wreck, he turned and ran back along the east-bound track. He was no coward running away from duty and responsibility, though almost any one who saw him just then might have deemed him one. No, indeed! He was doing what none but a faithful and experienced railroad man would have thought of doing under the circ.u.mstances; doing his best to avert further calamity by warning approaching trains from the west of the danger before them. He ran half a mile and then placed the torpedoes, which, with a brakeman's instinct, he still carried in his pocket.

_Bang-bang!_ BANG! Engineman Newman, driving locomotive number 385 at nearer one hundred miles an hour than it had ever gone before, heard the sharp reports above the rattling roar of his train, and realized their dread significance. It was a close call, and only cool-headed promptness could have checked the tremendous speed of that on-rushing train in the few seconds allowed for the purpose. As it was, 385's paint was blistering in the intense heat from the oil flames as it came to a halt and then slowly backed to a place of safety.

Conductor Joe had already returned to the scene of the wreck and was sending out other men with torpedoes and flags in both directions. Then he joined the brave fellows who were fighting for the lives of those still imprisoned in the wrecked caboose. Among these were Rod Blake, Conductor Tobin, and the sheriff. Snyder Appleby had turned sick at the heartrending sights and sounds to be seen and heard on all sides, and had gone back to his car to escape them. He did not believe a soul could be saved, and he had not the nerve to listen to the pitiful cries of those whom he considered doomed to a certain destruction.

In thus accepting defeat without a struggle, Snyder exhibited the worst form of cowardice, and if the world were made up of such as he, there would be no victories to record. But it is not. It not only contains those who will fight against overwhelming odds, but others who never know that they are beaten, and where indomitable wills often s.n.a.t.c.h victory from what appears to be defeat. General Grant was one of these, and Rod Blake was made of the same stuff.

Again and again he and those with him plunged into the stifling smoke to battle with the fierce flames in their stronghold. They smothered them with clods of earth and buckets of sand. They cut away the blazing woodwork with keen-edged wrecking axes torn from their racks in the uninjured caboose and in Snyder Appleby's special car. One by one they released and dragged out the victims, of whom the fire had been so certain, until none was left, and a splendid victory had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from what had promised to be a certain defeat.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN THE RAILROAD WRECK.--(_Page 215._)]

There was a farm-house not far away, to which the victims of the disaster were tenderly borne. Here, too, came their rescuers, scorched, blackened, and exhausted; but forgetful of their own plight in their desire to further relieve the sufferings of those for whom they had done such brave battle. In one of the wounded men Rod Blake was especially interested, for the young brakeman had fought on with a stubborn determination to save him after the others had declared it to be impossible. The man had been a pa.s.senger in the caboose of the through freight, and was so crushed and held by the shattered timbers of the car that, though the rescuing party reached his side, they were unable to drag him out. A burst of flame drove them back and forced them to rush into the open air to save their own lives. Above the roar of the fire they could distinguish his piteous cries, and this was more than Rod could stand.

With a wet cloth over his mouth and axe in hand he dashed back into the furnace. He was gone before the others knew what he was about to attempt, and now they listened with bated breath to the sound of rapid blows coming from behind the impenetrable veil of swirling smoke. As it eddied upward and was lifted for an instant they caught sight of him, and rushing to the spot, they dragged him out, with his arms tightly clasped about the helpless form he had succeeded in releasing from its fiery prison.

At that moment the young brakeman presented a sorry picture, blackened beyond recognition by his dearest friends, scorched, and with clothing hanging in charred shreds. By some miracle he was so far uninjured that a few dashes of cold water gave him strength to walk, supported by Conductor Tobin, to the farm-house, whither the others bore the unconscious man whom he had saved. The lad wished to help minister to the needs of the sufferer, but those who had cheered his act of successful bravery now insisted upon his taking absolute rest. So they made him lie down in a dimly-lighted room, where the sheriff sat beside him, and, big rough man that he was, soothed the exhausted lad with such tender gentleness, that after awhile the latter fell asleep. When this happened and the sheriff stole quietly out to where the others were a.s.sembled, he said emphatically:

"Gentlemen, I am prouder to know that young fellow than I would be of the friendship of a president."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

A WRECKING TRAIN.

While Rod lay in a dreamless sleep, which is the best and safest of remedies for every ill, mental or physical, that human flesh is heir to, a wrecking train arrived from New York. With it came a doctor, who was at once taken to the farm-house. He first looked at the sleeping lad, but would not allow him to be wakened, then he turned his attention to the victims of the disaster, whose poor maimed bodies were so sadly in need of his soothing skill.

During the long hours of the night, while the doctor was busy with his human wrecks, the gang of experienced workmen who had come by the same train, was rapidly clearing the wreck of cars from the tracks and putting them in order for a speedy resumption of traffic. The wrecking train to which they belonged was made up of a powerful locomotive and three cars.

The first of these was an immensely strong and solid flat, supporting a small derrick, which was at the same time so powerful as to be capable of lifting enormous weights. Besides the derrick and its belongings the flat carried only a few spare car trucks.

Next to it came a box-car, filled with timber ends for blocking, hawsers, chains, ropes, huge single-, double-, and treble-blocks, iron clamps, rods and bolts, frogs, sections of rail, heavy tarpaulins for the protection of valuable freight, and a mult.i.tude of other like supplies, all so neatly arranged as to be instantly available.

Last, and most interesting of all, came the tool-car, which was divided by part.i.tions into three rooms. Of these, the main one was used by the members of the wrecking gang as a living-room, and was provided with bunks, a cooking-stove and utensils, and a pantry, well stocked with flour, coffee, tea, and canned provisions. The smaller of the two end rooms contained a desk, table, chairs, stationery and electrical supplies.

It was used by the foreman of the wrecking gang, as an office in which to write his reports, and by the telegraph operator, who always accompanies a train of this description. This operator's first duty is to connect an instrument in his movable office with the railroad wire, which is one of the many strung on poles beside the track. From the temporary station thus established he is in constant communication with headquarters, to which he sends all possible information concerning the wreck, and from which he receives orders.

In the tool-room at the other end of this car was kept everything that experience could suggest or ingenuity devise for handling and removing wrecked cars, freight, or locomotives. Along the sides were ranged a score or so of jack-screws, some of them powerful enough to lift a twenty-ton weight, though worked by but one man. There were also wrenches, axes, saws, hammers of all sizes, crowbars, torches, lanterns, drills, chisels, files, and, in fact, every conceivable tool that might be of use in an emergency.

In less than three hours after the arrival of the wrecking train at the scene of the accident on the New York and Western road, the disabled locomotive, which had lain on its side in the ditch, had been picked up and replaced on the track. Such of the derailed cars as were not burned or crushed beyond hope of repair had also been restored to their original positions, scattered freight had been gathered up and reloaded, all inflammable _debris_ was being burned in a great heap at one side, the tracks were repaired, and so little remained to tell of the disaster, that pa.s.sengers by the next day's trains looked in vain for its traces.

The first train to go through after the accident was Snyder Appleby's special. The private secretary had visited the farm-house to insist that Rod Blake should accompany him to New York; but he was met at the door by the watchful sheriff, who sternly refused to allow his sleeping charge to be awakened or in any way disturbed.

"You needn't worry yourself about him," said the sheriff. "He'll come to New York fast enough, and I'll come with him. We'll hunt the Superintendent's office as quick as we get there, and maybe you won't be so glad to see us as you think you will. That's the best I can promise you, for that young fellow isn't going to be disturbed before he gets good and ready to wake up of his own accord. Not if I can help it, and I rather think I can."

"Oh, well," replied Snyder, who in the seclusion of his car had heard nothing of Rod's brave fight. "If he is such a tender plant that his sleep can't be interrupted, I suppose I shall have to go on without him, for my time is too valuable to be wasted in waiting here any longer. But I warn you, sir, that if you don't produce the young man in our office at an early hour to-morrow morning the company will hold you personally responsible for the loss of those diamonds."

So saying, and ordering Conductor Tobin with the other witnesses to accompany him, the self-important young secretary took his departure, filled with anger against Rod Blake, the sheriff who had const.i.tuted himself the lad's champion, the wreck by which he had been delayed, and pretty nearly everything else that happened to cross his mind at that moment.

As for Rod, he slept so peacefully and soundly until long after sunrise, that when he awoke and gazed inquiringly about him, he was but little the worse for his thrilling experiences of the previous night. His first question after collecting his scattered thoughts was concerning the welfare of the man for whom he had risked so much a few hours before.

"The poor fellow died soon after midnight," replied the sheriff. "He did not suffer, for he was unconscious to the last, but in spite of that he left you a legacy, which I believe you will consider an ample reward for your brave struggle to save him. At any rate, I know it is one that you will value as long as you live."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

ROD ACCEPTS THE LEGACY.

"I sha'n't accept it," declared Rod. "I couldn't take a reward for trying to save a man's life. You couldn't yourself, sir. You know that all the money in the world wouldn't have tempted you into those flames, while you were ready enough to go on the simple chance of saving a human being from an awful death. I'm sure you must feel that way, and so you know just how I feel about it. I only wish he could have known it too, and known how willingly we tried to save him. If he only had, he wouldn't have thought of offering us a reward. Did you find out who he was?"

"Yes, I found out," answered the sheriff, with a queer little smile. "I found out, too, that he was some one whom you knew quite well and were deeply interested in."

"Some one I knew!" cried Rod, in surprise, at the same time taking a rapid mental note of all his railroad friends who might have been connected with the accident. "Who was he? Was he a railroad man?"

"No, he was not a railroad man, and I can't tell you his name, but if you feel strong enough, I should like to have you come and take a look at him."

"Of course I do," replied Rod whose curiosity was now fully aroused. "I feel almost as well as ever I did, excepting a little shaky, and with a smart here and there in the burned places."

As the two entered an adjoining room, Rod's attention was instantly attracted by the motionless form, covered with a sheet, that lay on a bed.

Several persons were engaged in a low-voiced conversation at one end of the room; but at first the lad did not notice them. He was too anxious to discover which of all his friends lay there so silently, to heed aught else just then.

As he and the sheriff stepped to the side of the bed, the latter gently withdrew the covering and disclosed a peaceful face, from which every trace of grime and smoke had been tenderly removed.

Rod instantly recognized it. It was the same that he had last seen only the morning before lying by the forest roadside more than a hundred miles away. In a tone of awed amazement he exclaimed, "the train robber!"

"I think that settles it, gentlemen," said the sheriff quietly, and turning to the other occupants of the room who had gathered close behind Rod. "We thought it must be the train robber," he continued, addressing the latter "because we found the missing diamonds in a breast pocket of his coat; but we wanted your evidence to establish the fact. I have also recognized him as the alleged reporter who interviewed me yesterday morning, and who was accidentally left alone for a minute with the leather bag in my office. The moment I discovered that the diamonds were missing I suspected that he must have taken them, but thought it best to keep my suspicions to myself until I could trace him. I learned that a man answering his description had boarded the east-bound freight somewhere this side of Millbank and telegraphed Conductor Joe Miller to keep him in sight. By making use of Mr. Appleby's special I hoped to overtake and pa.s.s him before he reached New York. I thus expected to be on hand to welcome and arrest him at his journey's end, and by so doing relieve you of all suspicion of being anything but the honest plucky lad you have proved yourself. At the same time I looked forward to taking some of the conceit out of that young sprig of a secretary. That all my calculations were not upset by last night's accident was largely owing to you, for I must confess that, but for the shame of being outdone in bravery by a mere slip of a boy, I should have given up the fight to save this man long before the victory was won. Of course the evidence of his crime would have vanished with him, and we should never have known for a certainty what had become of the train robber or the diamonds. Some persons might even have continued to suspect you of being connected with their disappearance, while now your record is one that any man may well envy. Was I not right then, in saying that this poor fellow had left you a reward for your bravery that you will value so long as you live?"

"Indeed you were," answered Rod, in a low tone, "and it is a legacy that I can most gratefully accept, I wish he might have lived, though. It is terrible to think that by following him as I did I drove him to his death."

"You must not think of it in that way," said one of the other witnesses of the scene, taking the lad's hand as he spoke, and at the same time disclosing the well-known features of Mr. Hill, the Superintendent, "You must only remember that you have done your duty faithfully and splendidly.

Although I should not have approved the course you took at the outset, the results fully justify all that you have done, and I am very proud to number you among the employees of our company. You have certainly graduated with honors from the ranks of brakemen, and have fairly won your promotion to any position that you feel competent to fill. It only rests with you to say what it shall be."

"If the young man would accept a position with us," interrupted another gentleman, whom Rod knew to be a superintendent of the Express Company, "we should be only too happy to offer him one, that carries with it a handsome salary and the promise of speedy promotion."

"No, indeed! You can't have him!" exclaimed Mr. Hill. "A railroad company is said to be a soulless corporation, but it has at least soul enough to appreciate and desire to retain such services as this lad has shown himself capable of rendering. He has chosen to be a railroad man, and I don't believe he is ready to switch off on any other line just yet. How is it, Blake? Have you had enough of railroading?"

"No, sir," replied Rod, earnestly. "I certainly have not. I have only had enough of it to make me desirous of continuing in it, and if you think I could make a good enough fireman, I should be very glad to take Milt Sturgis' place on number 10, and learn to run a locomotive engine under Mr. Stump."

"A fireman!" exclaimed Mr. Hill, in surprise. "Is that the height of your ambition?"

"I think it is at present, sir," replied Rod, modestly.

"But I thought you knew how to run an engine. It looked that way yesterday morning when you started off with the one belonging to the express special."

"I thought I did too, sir; but by that very trial I found that I knew just nothing at all about it. I do want to learn though, and if you haven't anyone else in view----"