All this time, however, he was under orders to keep a watch on the movements of the brakemen ahead of him, and to set up, or throw off, brakes on at least two of the six cars under his charge, whenever he noticed them doing so. He was surprised to learn that it was by no means necessary to put on all the brakes of a train to check its speed, or even to stop it, and that the application of those on a third, or even a quarter of its cars answered every purpose. He also soon learned to jump quickly whenever brakes were called for by a single short whistle blast from the locomotive, and to throw them off at the order of the two short blasts that called for brakes to be loosened. At first he thought it curious that the other brakemen should run along the tops of the cars, and wondered why they were always in such a hurry. He soon discovered though that it was much easier to keep his footing running than walking, and safer to jump from car to car than to step deliberately across the open s.p.a.ces between them.

Once, during the night, when he and Conductor Tobin were seated in the caboose eating their midnight lunch, the latter began to sniff the air suspiciously, and even to Rod's unaccustomed nostrils, there came a most unpleasant smell. "Hot box!" said Conductor Tobin, and the next time they stopped, they found the packing in an iron box at the end of an axle, under one of the cars, blazing at a furious rate. The journals, or bearings, in which the axle turned, had become dry and so heated by friction as to set the oil-soaked cotton waste, or packing, with which the box was filled, on fire. The job of cooling the box with buckets of water, and repacking it with waste, and thick, black, evil-smelling oil was a dirty and disagreeable one, as Rod quickly learned from experience. He also realized from what he saw, that if it were not done in time, the car itself might be set on fire, or the axle broken off.

These, and many other valuable lessons in railroading, did Rod Blake learn that night; and when in the gray dawn, the train pulled into the home yard, with its run completed, he was wiser, more sleepy and tired, than he had ever been before in all his life.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WORKING FOR A PROMOTION.

For several weeks Rod Blake continued to lead the life of a brakeman on Conductor Tobin's train. Although it was a very humble position, and though the life was one of constant danger and hard work, he thoroughly enjoyed it. Blessed with youth, health and a perfect physical condition, he even found pleasure in the stormy nights, when the running boards that formed his pathway over the roofs of the swaying cars were slippery with sleet, and fierce winds tried their best to hurl him from them. He experienced a wild joy in battling with, and conquering, gales that forced him to crawl along the storm-swept "deck" on hands and knees, clinging tightly to the running boards, often with lantern extinguished, and making the pa.s.sage from car to car through pitchy darkness. On such nights how warm and cheerful was the interior of the caboose, when at rare intervals he found a chance to pay it dripping visits! How welcome were the cups of hot coffee from the steaming pot on the glowing stove, and how the appreciation of all its comforts was intensified by the wildness of the outside night!

By his unfailing cheerfulness of disposition, his promptness to answer any call, and on account of his splendid athletic training, the lad rapidly extended his circle of friendships, until there was not a trainman on the division but had a word of greeting, or a friendly wave of the hand for him, as they met at stations or were whirled past each other on the road.

During the leisure "lay-off" hours at either end of the run, he gave them boxing lessons in the caboose. These proved so popular as entertainments that on such occasions the car was always crowded with eager pupils and enthusiastic spectators. In fact, before he had been a month on the road, Rod Blake had attained a popularity among the rough, but honest and manly, fellows who shared his labors, only approached by that of Smiler himself.

With this wise animal he was also such a prime favorite that the dog was now more frequently to be seen on his train than on any other.

After working as rear brakeman, under Conductor Tobin's especial care, long enough to become thoroughly acquainted with his duties, Rod was, at his own request, transferred to the forward end of the train. Here he had charge of the six or eight cars immediately following the locomotive. This was not nearly so pleasant a position as that at the rear end; for now, while running, he seldom had a chance to visit the caboose, and when on duty he was directly in the path of the very worst of the smoke and cinders. Then too the work here was harder than anywhere else on the train; for, in addition to his regular duties as brakeman, he was expected to a.s.sist the fireman at water stations, and by shovelling coal down from the rear end of the tender so that it was more easily within his reach. It was for this very reason though that Rod sought the place. He did not wish to remain a brakeman very long, nor even to become a conductor; but he did want to learn how to run a locomotive, and looked forward with longing antic.i.p.ation to the day when he might fill the proud position of engineman. So he shovelled coal with a hearty good-will, and seized every opportunity for riding on the locomotive, and carefully watched the movements of the men who managed it. Sometimes he asked questions, but not often; when he did they were of such a nature that the answers were of practical value to him.

From many years of riding in a locomotive cab, where, with the constant rattle and roar, conversation is very difficult, the engineman, Truman Stump, had become a most reticent man, who rarely spoke unless it was necessary. He had thus gained the reputation of being ill-tempered and morose, which was exactly what he was not. Everybody admitted, though, that he was a first-cla.s.s engine-driver, and one who could always be relied upon to do exactly the thing in an emergency.

This man took a liking to the bright-faced young brakeman from the very first; and, when Rod began to appear in his cab, he watched him with a real, but concealed interest. One day when it was announced that Milt Sturgis, the fireman, was about to be promoted and get his engine, everybody wondered who would take his place, and how a new man would get along with old True Stump. Another bit of news received on the train at the the same time, was that Brakeman Joe had fully recovered from his injuries, and was ready to resume his place. While Rod was glad, for Joe's sake, that he was well enough to come back, he could not help feeling some anxiety on his own account, now that he would no longer be needed as brakeman. This anxiety was unexpectedly relieved by the engineman; who, while standing beside him at a water station, turned and said:

"Joe's coming back."

"Yes; to-morrow."

"Milt's going to leave."

"So I hear."

"How would you like to fire for me in his place?"

"I," exclaimed Rod in astonishment. "Why, I should like it very much if you think I know enough for the job."

"All right, I'll fix it."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE EXPRESS SPECIAL.

Nothing further was said at the time concerning Rod's most cherished scheme and as Brakeman Joe reported for duty that very day Rod was at a loss to know what he should do next. He doubted if Truman Stump could command sufficient influence to secure his appointment as fireman before he had undergone a preliminary training as wiper and hostler in the round-house, though he felt that he already possessed experience as valuable as any to be gained in those positions. Still it was a rule that firemen should be taken from the round-house and Rod knew by this time that railroad rules are rarely broken.

Of course he could not retain Joe's position now that the latter had returned to it, and he would not if he could. No indeed! Joe's face still pale from his long confinement was too radiant with happiness at once more getting back among his old friends and a.s.sociations for Rod to dim it by the faintest suggestion that the honest fellow's return to duty was likely to throw him out of a job. So he congratulated Joe upon his recovery, as heartily as any one, and retold the story of his plucky fight with the thieving tramps to the little group of railroad men gathered in caboose number 18 to welcome him back.

As they were all talking at once and making a hero of Brakeman Joe they were hushed into a sudden silence by the unexpected entrance of Mr. Hill the Superintendent. Merely nodding to the others this gentleman stepped up to Brakeman Joe with extended hand, saying cordially:

"Good evening, conductor. I am glad to see you back among us again. I hope you are all right and will be able to take your train out on time to-night."

"Sir! I----" stammered the astonished Joe.

"You must be mistaking me for Conductor Tobin, sir."

"Tobin? oh no! I know him too well ever to mistake any one else for him. I take you to be Conductor Joseph Miller of the through freight, whose promotion has just been posted, to take effect immediately. I have also a.s.signed two new men to your train, with orders to report at once. Here they come now."

This announcement fell like a bomb-sh.e.l.l; and the cheer of congratulation that Joe's friends attempted to raise was checked, half-uttered, by the distressed look on Conductor Tobin's face. Could it be that he had heard aright? Was it possible that he was thus unceremoniously thrown out of work to make a place for his former brakeman? His expression was quite as bewildered as that of Brakeman Joe, and the Superintendent, noticing it, allowed an amused smile to flit across his own face.

"Don't be alarmed, Tobin," he said, rea.s.suringly; "the Company can't very well spare your services, and have no idea of doing so. If you can make it convenient I should like to have you take out number 29 to-night, and, as you will need an extra hand, I have decided to send young Blake on the same train; that is, if it will be agreeable to you to have him."

Number 29! The Continental Express Company's Special! Why, only pa.s.senger conductors had that train! What could Mr. Hill mean?

"It's all right, Tobin," continued that gentleman, noting the other's embarra.s.sment; "your name has gone on to the pa.s.senger list, and if you do as well there as you have with your freights I shall be more than satisfied. I hope this change strikes you as being one for the better also?" he added, turning to Rod.

"Yes, sir, only----" began Rodman, who was about to say something concerning his desire to be made a fireman, when he suddenly remembered that Truman Stump had requested him not to speak of it just yet.

"Only what?" asked Mr. Hill, a little sharply.

"I was afraid I hadn't experience enough," answered Rod.

"That is a matter of which I claim to be the best judge," replied the Superintendent, with a smile. "And if I am satisfied of your fitness for the position you certainly ought to be. Now, Tobin, look lively. Number 29 must be ready to leave in half an hour. Good-night and good luck to you."

Thus Conductor Tobin's long and faithful service, and Brakeman Joe's suffering, and Rod Blake's strict attention to duty were all rewarded at once, though in Rodman's case the reward had not taken exactly the shape he desired. Still, a promotion was a promotion, and where there were so many compet.i.tors for each upward step, as there always are on a railroad, it was not for him to grumble at the form in which it came.

So as the young railroad man gathered up his few belongings, he gratefully accepted the congratulations of his friends. A few minutes later he bade freight conductor Joe good-by, and in company with pa.s.senger conductor Tobin he left caboose number 18 with much the same feeling that a young scholar leaves his primary school for one a grade higher.

Number 29 was a peculiar train, and one that Rod had often watched rush past his side-tracked freight with feelings of deep interest, not unmixed with envy. It always followed the "Limited," with all the latter's privileges of precedence and right of way. Thus it was such a flyer that the contrast between it and the freight, which always had to get out of the way, was as great as that between a thoroughbred racer and a farm-horse. It was made up of express cars, loaded with money, jewelry, plate, and other valuable packages, which caused it to be known along the road as the "gold mine." In its money-car was carried specie and bank notes from the United States Treasury, and from Eastern banks to Western cities. Thus it was no unusual thing for this one car to carry a million dollars' worth of such express matter. Each car was in charge of a trusted and well-armed messenger, who locked himself in from one end of his run to the other, and was prepared to defend the valuables entrusted to his care with his life. Thus number 29 was one of the most important as well as one of the very fastest trains on the road; while to run on it was considered such an honor that many envious glances were cast at Rod as he stood on the platform beside it awaiting the starting-signal.

There had been no time for him to procure the blue uniform suit, such as the crews of pa.s.senger trains, with whom he now ranked, are required to wear; and as the jumper and overalls of a freight brakeman would have been decidedly out of place on an express special, Rod had hastily donned his best suit of every-day clothes. Thus as he stood near the steps of the single pa.s.senger coach that was attached to the train in place of a caboose for the accommodation of its conductor and brakemen, he was not to be distinguished from the throng of pa.s.sengers hastening aboard the "Limited" on the opposite side of the platform.

For this reason a young man, with a stout leather travelling bag slung on his shoulder, paid no attention to the young brakeman, as after a hurried glance up and down the platform, he sprang aboard and entered the coach.

With a bound Rod was after him. "h.e.l.lo, sir!" he cried; "you must have made a mistake. This is not a pa.s.senger train."

"No?" said the other coolly, and Rod now noticed that he wore a pair of smoked gla.s.ses. I thought it was the "Limited."

"That is the 'Limited,' across the platform," explained Rod politely.

"Are you sure of it?"

"Certainly I am."

"What makes you think this is not it?" asked the other with a provoking slowness of speech as though time was no object to him, and he did not care whether the "Limited" started without him or not.