"All right. Come ahead," commanded the short man, impatiently.

Then very deliberately, with a pause after each word, seemingly to enable Jones to interpret, but really to give himself time to send another word, unheard, beneath the table, Alex sent on the key, and Jones read aloud, the following message:

"Sheriff,

"Watson Siding:

"Safe-blowers have been captured near here. Call in your posse.

"(Signed) O'Brien,

"Sheriff Quigg County."

What the at first puzzled and then thunderstruck operator at Watson Siding read off his instrument ran very differently. It read:

"Safe THEY blowers ARE have HERE been IN captured STATION near INTEND here. GOING call OUT in BY your NIGHT posse. EXPRESS.

"(Signed) 'PHONE O'Brien, "BACK Sheriff HERE Quigg QUICK County."

A moment after giving his "OK" the Watson Siding operator was at the telephone calling for Bixton central.

Meantime, having thus sent the message to WS to the bank-breakers'

satisfaction, Alex proceeded to call and send it by turns to Zeisler, Hammerton, and other stations on the line. Sending slowly, to make the most of his time, it was within fifteen minutes of the hour the express was due when Alex had sent the last of the messages.

"Now you can step in and see your friend," said the man in the doorway, addressing Jones, who appeared, white and trembling, and coming behind the counter, dropped into a chair facing Alex. The speaker then once more disappeared, and presently an opening click of the instruments told the nature of his errand. The wires had been cut.

He soon returned, and rummaging about, while the taller man stood guard over them, he found some ropes, and proceeded to bind Alex and the day operator tightly in their chairs.

Just as the task was completed there came a long-drawn whistle from the west. Both robbers promptly turned to the door. "Well, good night, gentlemen," said the smaller, grimly. "Much obliged for your kind services."

"And I would just pause to repeat," said the taller, jocosely, "that there is some cla.s.s to this getaway scheme, should any one ask you. Good night."

"_Yes, there is cla.s.s--but it isn't first!_"

Uttering a cry the two bank robbers staggered back from the door, and with a bound the deputy sheriff and a constable were upon them, bore them to the floor, and after a brief but terrific struggle disarmed and handcuffed them.

"Yes," said the sheriff, rising, and with his knife quickly freeing the two prisoners, "there was cla.s.s to it, but it was _second_.

"Our young friend here takes '_first_.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HOW DID YOU DO IT, SMARTY?" SNAPPED THE SHORTER MAN.]

The robbers turned upon Alex with furiously flashing eyes. "How did you do it, smarty?" snapped the shorter man.

Alex laughed, kicked one foot beneath the table, and the instrument responded with a click. "A little First of April trick. What do you think of it?"

Whatever the two renegades might have said through their gritting teeth, there was no doubt as to what the sheriff and the others thought. Nor the bank officials at Zeisler, when, a day later, there came to Alex a highly commendatory letter and a check for two hundred dollars.

But better even than this, in Alex's estimation, a few mornings after the chief despatcher called him to the wire and announced his appointment as night operator at Foothills, a small town on the western division.

IX

JACK PLAYS REPORTER, WITH UNEXPECTED RESULTS

Not long after Alex left Bixton to take up his duties at Foothills, Jack, at Hammerton, also received an advancement. In itself it was not of particular note, beyond an encouraging increase in salary, and a transfer from the day to the night force; but indirectly it resulted in an experience more thrilling than any Jack's genius for tackling adventurous difficulties had yet brought him.

Wheeling by the office of the "Daily Star" one afternoon, he heard his name called, and turned his head to discover West, the reporter with whom he had made the memorable Oakton trip, hastening after him.

"Just the man I was looking for, Jack," declared West, as the young operator wheeled to the curb. "I have a job for you.

"How would you like to tackle a bit of Black Hand investigation?"

Jack laughed. "You don't mean it."

"I certainly do. It's this way," went on the reporter, lowering his voice. "A Black Hand letter demanding money was received last week by Tommy Spanelli, of the Italian restaurant. It was mailed here; and we have the tip that last evening two foreigners were seen stealing across the old quarry turnpike, and into the woods, as though not wishing to be seen. Of course they may not be connected with this at all, but again they may; and I was put on the job to find out. The difficulty is that I am too well known. If they caught sight of me, they would be suspicious immediately.

"But they would never suspect a lad like you," West proceeded; "and I know you could carry anything through that came along. So will you run out there and investigate for me?"

"Why, certainly. But just what shall I do?" Jack asked.

"Wheel up and down the quarry turnpike for an hour or so, then, if you have seen no one, beat around through the woods as far as the old stone quarry. And any foreigners you come upon, take a good look at. That's all. And drop in at the office here in the morning, and report."

"That's easy. All right," agreed Jack readily.

"Thank you. And keep the matter quiet, you know," West added. "We want an exclusive story for the 'Star' if anything comes of it."

"I understand. And, say," said Jack as he turned away, "I'll take my camera, too. I may be able to get a snap of them, if I see anyone."

"Good idea. A picture would help to land them, if they are the fellows we want; and we could run it in the paper with our story. Go ahead, Jack, and good luck."

Jack was not long in wheeling home and securing his folding Brownie; and a half hour later found him pedalling slowly along the quarry road near the point several miles from the city where the suspicious foreigners had been seen to enter the woods.

An hour pa.s.sed, however, and he had seen no doubtful characters, and finally dismounting at the entrance to a path he knew to lead toward the old stone quarry, Jack concealed his wheel in a thicket, and set off to make an investigation in that direction.

A moment after he came to a halt with a sharp exclamation. In the path at his feet lay a murderous-looking stiletto. Picking it up, he examined it.

Yes; it was of foreign make. And the still damp mud stains on the side of the blade which had lain uppermost showed it had been but recently dropped.

Apprehensively Jack cast a glance about him, almost immediately to utter a second suppressed exclamation. Emerging from the woods on the opposite side of the road was a short, dark man--undoubtedly an Italian.

With beating heart Jack watched him. Was he one of the men he was looking for?

In the middle of the road the stranger halted, looked sharply to right and left, and came quickly forward. Darting from the path Jack threw himself on the ground behind a bush, and the next moment the man hurriedly pa.s.sed him. He was soon out of sight, and rising, Jack placed the dagger carefully in an inside pocket, and determinedly set off after.

Half a mile he followed the Italian amid the trees. Then there appeared the light of an opening, and going forward more carefully, Jack found himself on the edge of the quarry clearing. The foreigner was hurrying along the brink of the excavation, evidently heading for a small tumble-down cabin at its farther end.