"Every word of it," said Alex, earnestly. "And I would have heard all about it at the station if they had intended cutting your wages, or bringing others here to take your places."

"Den I believe it," said the Pole.

The man with the pistol returned it to his pocket. "I am sorry I shoot,"

he said.

"And now, what about the train?" inquired the foreman, quickly. "Did you touch the switch?"

In the look of guilt the foreigners turned on one another he saw the alarming answer. Whipping out his watch, he held it to the light.

"Alex," he said, sharply, "you have just ten minutes to catch that train at the Junction! If you don't get her she's gone! There's not time now to get down to the main line from here to flag her!"

Before he had ceased speaking Alex had his cap over the light and was once more flashing an urgent "BX! BX! BX!" while below the foreigners looked on, now with an anxiety equal to that of the two on the tower.

"BX! Qk! Qk!" flashed the lantern.

The station light disappeared. "Got 'em!" cried Alex.

"Just tell them first to stop Twenty at the Junction," said the foreman.

"Right," responded Alex, and while the rest watched in profound silence, he signaled:

"STOP NUMBER 20 AT JUNCTION. SPUR SWITCH IS THROWN. GOT IT?"

As Alex read off the promptly flashed "OK," the foreman sprang to his feet and gave vent to a joyful hurrah of relief that echoed again in the clearing and woods. Then, as Alex recovered the lantern, he caught him under one arm, carried him down the ladder, and there, despite his objections, hoisted him to the shoulders of two of the now enthusiastic Poles, and all set off jubilantly down the spur for the switch, and home.

And an hour later Alex's father and mother, anxiously awaiting him at the station, discovered his approach carried at the head of a sort of triumphal procession of the entire gang of trackmen.

When Alex's father the following morning reported the occurrence to the chief despatcher, that official called Alex to the wire to congratulate him personally.

"That was a fine bit of work, my boy," he clicked. "I see you are cut out for the right kind of railroader. If fourteen wasn't a bit too young I would give you a job on the spot. But we will give you a start just as soon as we can, you may be sure."

II

AN ORIGINAL EMERGENCY BATTERY

One afternoon two weeks later Alex returned from school to find his father and mother hurriedly packing his suit-case.

"Why, what's up, Dad?" he exclaimed.

"You are off for Watson Siding in twenty minutes, to take charge of the station there nights," said his father. "The regular man is ill, the despatcher had no one else to send, and asked for you, and of course I told him you'd be delighted."

"Delighted? Well, rather!" cried Alex, gleefully, and throwing his school-books into a corner, he dashed up-stairs to change his clothes, hastily ate a lunch his mother had prepared, and fifteen minutes later was hurrying for the depot.

Needless to say Alex was a proud boy when shortly after seven o'clock he reached Watson Siding, and at once took over the station for the night.

For it is not often a lad of fourteen is given such responsibility, even though brought up on the railroad.

Alex was soon to learn that the responsibility was a very real one. The first night pa.s.sed pleasantly enough, but early the succeeding night, following a day of rain, a heavy spring fog set in, and shortly before ten o'clock Alex found, to his alarm, that he could not make himself heard on the wire by the despatcher. Evidently there was a heavy escape of current between them, because of the dampness.

Again the despatcher called, again Alex sought to interrupt him, failed, and gave it up. "Now I am in for trouble," he said in dismay. "If anything should--"

From apparently just without came a low, ominous rumble, then a crash.

Alex started to his feet and ran to the window. He could see nothing but fog, and hastily securing a lantern, went out onto the station platform.

As he closed the door there was a second terrific crash, from the darkness immediately opposite, and a rain of stones rattling against iron.

"The bank above the siding!" cried Alex, and springing to the tracks, he dashed across, and with an exclamation brought up before a mound of earth six feet high over the siding rails.

As he gazed Alex felt his heart tighten. The westbound Sunset Express was due to take the siding in less than half an hour, to await the Eastern Mail, and at once he saw that if the engineer misjudged the distance in the fog, and ran onto the siding at full speed, there would be a terrible calamity.

And suppose the cars were thrown onto the main line track, and the Mail crashed into them! And, apparently, he could not reach the despatcher, to give warning of her danger!

What could he do to stop them? Helplessly Alex looked at the lantern in his hand. Its light was smothered by the fog within ten feet of him.

Running back to the operating room he seized the key and once more sought to attract the attention of the despatcher. It was useless. The despatcher did not hear him. He sank back in his chair, sick with dread.

But he must attempt something! Determinedly he sprang to his feet. A lantern was useless. Then why not a fire? A big fire on the track?

Hurrah! That was it! But--he gazed at the coal box, and thought of the rain soaked wood outside, and his heart sank. Then came remembrance of the big woodshed at the farm-house where he boarded, three hundred yards away, and in a moment he had recovered the lantern, and was out, and off through the darkness, running desperately.

On arriving at the house Alex found all in silence, and the family retired, but without a moment's hesitation he threw himself at the front door, pounding upon it with his fists.

It seemed an age before a window was raised. "Mr. Moore," he cried, "there has been a landslide in the cut at the station, and there is danger of the Sunset running into it. May I have wood from the shed to make a fire on the track to stop her?"

"Gracious! Certainly, certainly!" exclaimed the voice from the window.

"And the boys and I will be down in a minute to help you. You run around and be pulling out some kindling."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THREW HIMSELF AT THE FRONT DOOR, POUNDING UPON IT WITH HIS FISTS.]

Alex darted about to the woodshed, there the farmer and his two sons soon joined him, and each catching up an armful of wood, they were quickly off for the railroad, Alex leading with the lantern.

Reaching the tracks, they hurried east, and a quarter mile distant halted, and began hastily building a huge bonfire between the rails.

"There," said Alex, as the flames leaped up, "that ought to stop her."

"And now, Mr. Moore, suppose we leave d.i.c.k here to tend the fire, and you and Billy and I hurry back to the station, and tackle the earth on the track. We may get enough off to let the train plow through."

"All right, certainly," agreed the farmer; and retracing their steps, the three secured shovels and more lanterns at the depot, and soon were hard at work on the obstructed siding.

They had been digging some ten minutes when suddenly Billy paused.

"Listen," he said. "There's a horse coming, on the run." His father and Alex also ceased shoveling, and a moment later the quick pounding of horse's hoofs was plainly discernible.

"It must be something urgent to make a man drive like that in the dark,"

said Mr. Moore.