Ralph, the Train Dispatcher; Or, The Mystery of the Pay Car

  CHAPTER II

  THE WRECK

  "A wreck, eh,--sure, I know it! Our turn next--you'll see," fumed Fogg,as the locomotive came to a stop.

  "It's a freight on the out track," said Ralph, peering ahead. "Two carsover the embankment and--"

  "For land's sake!" interrupted the fireman, "whiff! whoo! what have werun into, anyway?"

  A flying object came slam bang against the lookout window not two inchesfrom Fogg's nose. A dozen more sailed over the cab roof. With a greatflutter half of these dropped down into the cab direct.

  "Chickens!" roared Fogg in excitement and astonishment. "Say, did youever see so many at one time? Where do they ever come from?"

  "From the wreck. Look ahead," directed Ralph.

  It was hard to do this, for a second flock of fowls thronged down uponthem. Of a sudden there seemed to be chickens everywhere. They scampereddown the rails, crouched to the pilot, roosted on the steam chests,lined up on the coal of the tender, while three fat hens clucked andskirmished under the very feet of the fireman, who was hopping about toevade the bewildering inrush.

  "I declare!" he ejaculated breathlessly.

  Far as Ralph could see ahead, stray fowls were in evidence. Featherswere flying, and a tremendous clatter and bustle was going on. They camelimping, flying, rolling along the roadbed from the direction of a trainstanding stationary on the out track. In its center there was a gap.Thirty feet down the embankment, split in two, and a mere pile ofkindling wood now, were two cars.

  The trucks of one of these and some minor wreckage littered the intrack. Freight hands were clearing it away, and it was this temporaryobstruction that had been the cause of the warning torpedo.

  A brakeman from the freight came to the passenger train to report whatwas doing.

  "Palace chicken car and a gondola loaded with boxes in the ditchbeyond," he said. "We'll be cleaned up for you in a few minutes."

  "That's how the chickens come to be in evidence so numerously, itseems," remarked Ralph.

  "Say, see them among the wrecked wire netting, and putting for thetimber!" exclaimed Fogg. "Fairbanks, there's enough poultry runningloose to stock an eating house for a year. I say, they're nobody'sproperty now. Suppose--here's two fat ones. I reckon I'll take that muchof the spoil while it's going."

  With a vast chuckle the fireman grabbed two of the fowls under his feetand dumped them into his waste box, shutting down the cover. Theconductor of the freight came up penciling a brief report. He handed itto the conductor of the Overland.

  "We'll wire from Luce," he explained, "but we may be delayed reachingthere and you may get this to headquarters at the Junction first. Tellthe claim agent there won't be salvage enough to fill a waybill. She'sclear," with a glance down the track.

  The Overland proceeded slowly past the wreck, affording the crew and thecurious passengers a view of the demolished freight lying at the bottomof the embankment. Once past this, Ralph set full steam to make up forlost time.

  It put Fogg in better humor to arrive on schedule. The thought of homecomforts close by and the captured chickens occupied his mind anddissipated his superstitious forebodings.

  When they reached the roundhouse the fireman started straight for home.Ralph lingered a few minutes to chat with the foreman, and was about toleave when Fry, the claim agent of the road, came into the doghouse ingreat haste.

  "Just the man I want to see, Fairbanks," he said animatedly.

  "That so?" smiled Ralph.

  "Yes. Your conductor just notified me of the smashup beyond the limits.It looks clean cut enough, with the tracks cleared, but he says some ofthe stuff is perishable."

  "If you list chickens in that class," responded Ralph, "I guess that'sright."

  "That's the bother of it," observed Fry. "Dead salvage could wait, andthe wrecking crew could take care of it at their leisure, but--livestock!"

  "It looked to me as if most of the chickens had got away," exclaimedRalph. "The car was split and twisted from end to end."

  "I reckon I had better get on the job instanter," said the claim agent."How about getting down to the bluff switch, Forgan?"

  "Nothing moving but the regulars," reported the roundhouse foreman. "Youdon't need a special?"

  "No, any dinky old machine will do."

  "Gravel pit dummy just came in."

  "Can't you rig her up and give me clear tracks for an hour, till I makeinvestigations?"

  "Crew gone home."

  "No extras on hand?"

  The foreman consulted his schedule and shook his head negatively.

  Ralph thought of his home and mother, but a certain appealing glancefrom the claim agent and a natural disposition to be useful andaccommodating influenced him to a kindly impulse.

  "See here, Mr. Fry, I'll be glad to help you out, if I can," he said.

  "You certainly can, Fairbanks, and I won't forget the favor," declaredthe claim agent warmly. "You see, I'm booked for a week's vacation and avisit to my old invalid father down at Danley, beginning tomorrow. If Ican untie all the red tape from this wreck affair, I'm free to get out,and my substitute can take up any fresh tangles that come up tomorrow."

  "Can you fire?" inquired Ralph.

  "I can make a try at it."

  "Then I'll see to the rest," promised the young engineer briskly.

  With the aid of wiper Ralph soon got the dummy ready for action. It wasa long time since the young engineer had done roundhouse duty. He did itwell now, and thanked the strict training of his early apprenticeexperience. The jerky spiteful little engine rolled over the turntablein a few minutes time, and the claim agent pulled off his coat andlooked to Ralph for orders.

  They took a switch and headed down the clear out track. At a crossing aman came tearing towards them, arms waving, long beard flying, and hisface showing the greatest urgency and excitement.

  "Mishter Fry! Mishter Fry!" he panted out, "I haf just heard--"

  "Nothing for you, Cohen," shouted the claim agent.

  "I hear dere vas some boxes. Sthop! sthop! I've got the retty gash."

  "Ready-Cash Cohen," exclaimed Fry to Ralph. "Always on hand when there'sany cheap wreck salvage lying around loose. That fellow seems to scent awreck like a vulture."

  "I've heard of him," remarked Ralph with a smile.

  They had free swing on the out track until they neared the scene of thewreck. Here they took a siding and left the dummy, to walk to the spotwhere the two freight cars had gone over the embankment.

  "Hello!" suddenly ejaculated the claim agent with tremendous surpriseand emphasis.

  "Excuse me, Mishter Fry, but that salvage--"

  Ralph burst out into a hearty peal of laughter. Clinging to the littlebobtail tender of the dummy was Ready-Cash Cohen.

  "Well, you're a good one, Cohen."

  "If I vas'nt, vould I be Chonny-on-de-spot, Mishter Fry?" chuckled Cohencunningly.

  He followed them as they walked down the tracks. When they reached thepoint where the two freights had gone over the embankment, Fry clambereddown its slant and for some time poked about the tangled mass ofwreckage below.

  "Vill dere haf to be an appraisal, my tear friend?" anxiously inquiredCohen, pressing forward as the claim agent reappeared.

  "No," responded Fry shortly. "There's a chicken car with live and deadmixed up in the tangle. Come, Cohen, how much for the lot?"

  "Schickens?" repeated Cohen disgustedly--"not in my line, Mishter Fry.Schickens are an expense. Dey need feeding."

  "Won't bid, eh?"

  "Don't vant dem at any price. But de boxes, Mishter Fry--vot's in doseboxes?"

  "See here," observed Fry, "I'm not giving information to the enemy.There they are, badly shaken up but they look meaty, don't they? If youwant to bid unsight unseen, name your figure."

  "Fifty tollars."

  "Take them."

  The salvage dealer toppled down the embankment with a greedy promptness.The claim agent winked blandly after him.

  "I expected
it," said Fry, as a minute later Cohen came toiling up theembankment his face a void of disappointed misery.

  "Mishter Fry, Mishter Fry," he gasped, "dey are looking glasses!"

  "Found that out, did you?" grinned the freight agent.

  "Dey vos smashed, dey vas proken, every last one of dem. Dey are noteven junk. My tear friend, I cannot take dem."

  "A bargain's a bargain, Cohen," voiced Fry smoothly. "You've made enoughout of your deals with the road to stand by your bid. If you don't,we're no longer your customer."

  "I von't have dem. It was a trick," and the man went down the tracktearing at his beard.

  "There's kindling wood there for somebody free for the taking," remarkedFry. "The chicken smashup isn't so easy."

  "Many down there?" inquired Ralph.

  "Yes, most of them are crushed, but a good many alive are shut in thewire tangle. The best I can do is to send a section man to pry themfree. It's heartless to leave them to suffer and to die."

  "A lot of them got free," observed Ralph.

  "They're somewhere around the diggings. It wouldn't be a bad speculationfor some bright genius to round them up. Why, say, Fairbanks, you're anambitious kind of a fellow. I'll offer you an investment."

  "What's that, Mr. Fry?" inquired the young engineer.

  "I'll sell you the whole kit and caboodle in the car and out of it fortwenty-five dollars."

  Ralph shook his head with a smile.

  "If I had time to spare I'd jump at your offer, Mr. Fry," he said. "Asit is, what could I do with the proposition?"

  "Do?" retorted the claim agent. "Hire some boys to gather in the bunch.There may be five hundred chicks in the round up."

  "Really, I couldn't bother with it, Mr. Fry," began Ralph, and then heturned abruptly.

  Some one had pulled at his sleeve, and with a start the young engineerstared strangely at a boy about his own age.