"No. I am beginning to think the rascal has gone over to the K. & Z.,"

said the superintendent, turning away. At the door he paused. "By the way, Ward, remind me to give you a message to-morrow morning asking for two more operators. We will have made six or seven miles by Monday night, and will be running the train down the branch. And the temporary station is almost completed," he added, glancing from the window toward a box-car which had been lifted from its trucks and placed on a foundation of ties beside the main-line tracks.

Alex promised gladly. It meant the coming of Jack Orr and Wilson Jennings.

Following breakfast, the morning being a beautiful one, Alex determined on a walk, and set off along the main-line to the west. Two miles distant he struck a small bridge and a deep, dry creek-bed, and turning south along its border, headed for the distant rail-head of the new branch.

At a bend in the creek some two hundred yards from the track-machine and its string of flat-cars, Alex sharply paused. Two saddled ponies were hobbled together in the creek-bottom. Casting a glance toward the construction-train, Alex leaped into the gully, out of sight.

He had not a doubt that the horses belonged to men in the service of the K. & Z., and that something was on foot similar to the attempted burning of the bridge-car.

What should he do? Return the three miles to the junction? or continue on to the track-machine? For undoubtedly the owners of the horses were there; and the machine, he knew, was in the sole charge of an oiler.

Alex decided on the latter course, and making his way along the bed of the stream, pa.s.sed the hobbled ponies, and on to the new bridge fifty feet in rear of the construction-train.

As he there halted, low voices reached Alex's ears. Peering cautiously out, and seeing no one, he crept forth, and made his way along the side of the embankment toward the train. A few feet from the rear car Alex came upon a three-wheeled track velocipede, used by Elder, the superintendent's clerk in running backwards and forwards between the rail-head and the junction. Pausing, he debated whether he should not put it on the rails, and make a run for the junction immediately. Finally Alex concluded first to learn something further of what was going on, and to count on the velocipede as a means of making his escape in case of emergency. To this end he proceeded cautiously to place the little jigger in a position from which he could quickly swing it onto the irons. Then continuing forward under the edge of the train, he reached the pilot-car.

"Yes; it's a first cla.s.s machine--the best on the market."

The voice was that of the oiler. Apparently he had been showing the strangers over the track-machine. For a brief s.p.a.ce Alex wondered whether after all his suspicions were justified. But at once came the thought, "Why had the strangers hidden their horses in the creek-bottom if they were genuine visitors?" and he remained quiet.

"Where is the boiler?" inquired a new voice, evidently one of the owners of the horses.

"There is none. The steam comes from the engine, behind," the oiler responded. "Here--it comes in here."

"So! And does the machine get out of order very easily?" asked a second voice.

There was something in the tone that caused Alex to p.r.i.c.k up his ears.

"Almost never. It's all simple. Nothing intricate," the man in charge replied.

"I suppose it could be put out of order, though--say, you fellows were to go on strike, and wanted to disable things? Eh?"

"Huh! That's rather a funny question. But I suppose it could. Anything could, for that matter."

"What do they pay you, as oiler?"

"Say, what are you two fellows driving at?" the oiler demanded sharply.

There was a momentary silence, during which Alex imagined the two strangers looking questioningly at one another. Then one of them spoke.

"Look here, whatever you get, we will give you a hundred dollars a month extra to put this machine out of order two or three times a week. Nothing very bad, but just enough to lose two or three hours' work each time. We are--well, never mind who we are. The thing stands this way: We have a big bet on that the K. & Z. will win in this building race for Yellow Creek, and--well, you see the point, I guess. What do you say?"

During the pause that followed Alex waited breathlessly, and with growing disappointment. Was the oiler considering the bribe?

"Well," said the oiler at length, "is that your best offer? Couldn't you make it a thousand?"

"A thousand! Nonsense--"

"Two thousand, then."

"What do you mean--"

"Just this!" cried the oiler, and simultaneously there was a rush of feet and a sound of blows. Exultingly Alex was scrambling forth to go to the oiler's a.s.sistance, when just above him was a crash of falling bodies, and a figure bounded over the side of the car and rolled sprawling down the embankment.

It was the plucky oiler, and Alex shrank back in horror as the man came to a stop flat on his back, and lay immovable, blood trickling from a wound over his eyes.

Overhead was the sound of someone getting to their feet. "He nearly got you," said a voice.

"Nearly. But I guess I 'got him' one better."

"Is he safe for awhile, do you think?"

As the two men moved to the edge of the car and apparently gazed down at the prostrate figure in the ditch, Alex shrank back with apprehension on his own account.

"Perhaps we'd better make sure of him."

"All right. Here is a bit of rope."

Hurriedly Alex crawled beneath the nearby truck, behind the wheels, and a tall figure in the garb of a cowboy dropped to the ground before him and ran down to the still unconscious oiler. Binding the prostrate man's feet together at the ankles, the cowman turned the oiler on his face, and secured his hands behind his back. Turning him again face up, he studied his eyes a moment, and announcing, "Good job. Only stunned," he returned to the car and drew himself up on it.

"Now what'll we do?" inquired his companion. "That idiot has knocked our plans to pieces. We can't go back and say we neither made the deal, nor did anything else for our money."

"We'll have to tear things up ourselves," said the first man decisively.

"Let us see what we can do in the engine-room here."

The footsteps pa.s.sed into the engine-house, and Alex at once crawled forth, to make his way back to the velocipede.

As he emerged from beneath the car he paused to glance down at the prostrate oiler. Should he leave him lying there? It did not seem right, despite the obvious necessity of heading for the junction without a moment's delay.

As he hesitated, the eyes of the prostrate man flickered, and opened.

Alex dodged back, lest the oiler should betray his presence to the men on the car. As he dropped down there came the recollection that there were two seats on the velocipede. Why not take the man with him, if he sufficiently recovered? Good!

Anxiously Alex watched as the stunned man blinked about him. Finally comprehension, then a hot flush of rage appeared in the oiler's face, and with a violent kick he twisted about toward the car.

Springing into view, Alex caught the oiler's startled eye, and made a warning gesture. The man stared dully for a moment, then nodded, and on Alex's further urgent signalling, dropped back and again closed his eyes.

Alex produced and opened his jack-knife.

The men above were busily fumbling about in the engine-room. Only pausing to make sure they were entirely occupied, Alex slipped forth, cautiously crept down the embankment, reached the bound man, and with a slash of the knife freed his feet and hands.

"Let us slip back to the velocipede--it's ready to throw on the rails--and make a dash of it for the junction," Alex whispered. The oiler arose, and with one eye on the engine-room door they crept up under the edge of the car, and on toward the rear of the train.

They reached the little track-car, and cautiously lifted it onto the rails.

"Better push it a ways," the oiler advised in a low voice. "They might hear the rumble, with our weight on it."

Gently they set the velocipede in motion. With the first move one of the wheels gave forth a shrill screech. The two paused as the sounds on the pilot-car immediately ceased.

"If we hear one of them going to the edge to look for me, we'll make a run of it," said the oiler.