He must halt his rescuers, and signal them to approach on foot!

A moment Alex thought, then casually remarking to the cowman, "I'm going to open the window. It's hot," unlatched and swung the sash inward. The move pa.s.sed unnoticed, and leaning out he pretended to call the chickens.

What he was in reality doing was energetically waving his handkerchief backwards and forwards below, making the railroad "stop" signal.

The hors.e.m.e.n came on. If they came much farther they would be heard!

He paused, and waved again, more energetically. The third horseman pulled up. Quickly Alex followed with the signal to "come ahead with caution."

The rear pony spurred forward, pulled up beside the second, and apparently at a call, the Indian also halted. On Alex repeating the last signal, all dismounted, and he knew he had been understood.

Leaving their horses where they were, the three men came on at a quick walk. Alex, continuing to talk to the hens, could scarcely contain his secret delight.

When his rescuers were within a hundred yards of the cabin, he once more signalled caution, and they continued stealthily, revolvers in hand.

They reached the corner of the house, unheard by the men at the table.

The superintendent raised his eyebrows questioningly. Alex glanced over his shoulder, and nodded sharply. The next moment there was a rush of feet without, and all in a twinkle Bennet and the cowman were out of their chairs, at the door, and staggering back before three threatening revolvers. Staring open-mouthed, they brought up beside the overturned table.

Alex's words were the first. "These were the chickens I was calling, Mr.

Bennet," he remarked gleefully. The K. & Z. man recovered himself and turned on the boy, white with pa.s.sion. He was stopped by an exclamation from Finnan. "Bennet! George Bennet! What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps this will explain, sir," said Alex, handing over the map, which he had caught up during the excitement. Bennet made a frantic move to intercept him, but promptly Little Hawk's revolver was in his face, and he sank back into a chair, gritting his teeth.

"A plan showing every bridge and culvert on our line, and directions for blowing them all up, simultaneously! Well--" Words failed the superintendent.

"And this is what you have come to, Bennet? I'd never have believed it!"

There was a second awkward silence, when Superintendent Finnan suddenly broke it with, "Look here. I've got you now, haven't I? I've got you where I can put you in jail for a year or so at least. Well, instead of doing that, I'll make you a proposition:

"Drop all this kind of work; guarantee that there will be no more of it--agree to make it a straight, square building race between your road and mine, the first one to reach the Pa.s.s to win--guarantee that, and I'll let you go.

"Do you agree?"

Bennet rose to his feet and held out his hand. "I'll give you my solemn word, Finnan.

"And--and I'm awfully sorry I ever consented to go into this kind of thing," the K. & Z. man went on, a quaver in his voice. "But it was put up to me, and when I'd taken the first step, I thought I'd have to carry it through."

He turned to Alex. "I'm sorry for the way you have been treated, my lad.

You are a plucky boy, and straight. You keep on as you have, and you'll never find yourself in the position I am.

"I offered him two hundred dollars cash and a hundred a month to keep his mouth quiet," the speaker explained to the superintendent, "and he refused it."

"How about the Antelope viaduct, Mr. Finnan?" Alex asked as they rode away, he on one of Munson's loaned ponies. "It wasn't blown up?"

"No, but an attempt of some kind was made. Rather a mysterious affair,"

the superintendent said. "Late last night an Italian of the fill gang was seen stealing to one of the main foundations, then kicking and tearing something to pieces. Norton followed him, and found some fuses, and fragments of paper that had been wrapped about some strange kind of explosive, which apparently had failed to ignite. The Italian has not been seen since."

Alex was chuckling. "I think I can guess why that 'strange explosive'

failed to go off, sir," he said. "It was clay." And continuing, he explained the mystery in detail. Superintendent Finnan laughed heartily.

"Well, Ward, you are certainly due a vote of thanks," he declared seriously. "You saved the viaduct, and now you probably have brought about the ending of the entire trouble with the K. & Z. people. I'll not fail to turn in a thorough report of it."

XXII

THE DEFENSE OF THE VIADUCT

Thanks to the termination of the interference from the opposition road, the work on the extension progressed rapidly, and two weeks later found the rail-head seven miles beyond the Antelope viaduct, in the lower slopes of the Dog Rib Mountains. The coveted pa.s.s to the Yellow Creek gold-field lay but eight miles distant, and as the K. & Z. was still twenty miles east, it appeared certain that the Middle Western would win the great race.

The time had pa.s.sed uneventfully with the three young telegraphers, the end of the second week finding Alex and Jack together with the construction-train at the rail-head, and Wilson Jennings back at the temporary station and material-sidings at the viaduct.

Perhaps the last few days had pa.s.sed least interestingly with Wilson, alone in his little box-car station, not far from the old river-bed.

Sat.u.r.day had seemed particularly slow, for some reason, and shortly after 8 o'clock Wilson threw aside a book he had been reading, and catching up his hat, made for the door, for a brief stroll, previous to retiring.

The moon was momentarily showing through a break in the cloudy sky, and looking to the west, Wilson was somewhat surprised to discover the figures of two men approaching. When as he watched they reached the first of a train of tie-cars, and leaving the rails, continued forward in the shadows, Wilson stepped back, in disquiet.

The strangers came opposite, and paused, looking toward the station window and speaking in subdued voices. Convinced that something was afoot, the young operator turned quickly, and stooping low, that his shadow might not be seen on the window, crept to the little instrument table and reached for the telegraph key. He opened, and pressed it down.

The sounder did not respond. He tried again, adjusting the relay, and turned about in genuine alarm.

The wire had been cut! Some mischief was surely afoot.

From without came the crunch of stealthy footsteps. Springing to his bunk, Wilson secured his revolver and belt--the same taken from the would-be bullion thief he had captured at Bonepile--and stealing to the rear door, slipped out and to the ground just as the strangers approached the opposite side of the little car-depot.

The car was raised on a foundation of ties, and as the two men entered, Wilson crept beneath.

"No one here," said a gruff voice. "Say, do you s'pose he saw us, and sneaked?"

"Like as not. I told you to keep to the rails and come straight up,"

chided the other.

"Perhaps he will come back. We're in charge of the station anyway. That was the real thing."

Wilson waited to hear no more. Creeping forth, he stole off toward the ravine, intending to get out of sight in its shadows.

A short distance from the head of the viaduct was the green light of a small target-switch. The head of the downward path lay just beyond, and Wilson headed for the light. He reached it, and pa.s.sed on.

Abruptly he halted and turned about. Like an inspiration had come the remembrance of Alex Ward's signalling feat two years before at Bixton, of which he had heard from Jack Orr. Could he not do the same? Try and signal Alex or Jack, at the construction-train? Say, from one of the box-cars at the farther corner of the yard?

Casting a glance toward the little station to a.s.sure himself that all was quiet there, Wilson retraced his steps to the switch, removed the lantern, and tucking it under his coat, was off between the material-cars for the farthermost corner of the sidings.

The outermost car was a box-car. Climbing the ladder, with his handkerchief Wilson tied the lantern to the topmost rung, the red light out, and using his hat just as Alex had done, began flashing the call of the construction-train,

"KX, KX, V! KX, KX, V!"

Since the construction-train had started from Yellow Creek Junction it had been a center of attraction to coyotes for fifty miles around, and one of the few recreations enjoyed by the men of the train had been hunting them at night.