One-Way Ticket to Nowhere

you're wondering about the silver masked man who struck you," shesaid, "There are dozens of them on the train. They have us all underguard."

  He sat up a little weakly, felt his head clear. Ferrell and O'Toole satacross from his make shift bed.

  "They won't let me make a dash for the door, Jeff," O'Toole said in anunhappy voice. "Once in the hall, I could clean up on a snag of thoseblack devils."

  "And get your head bashed in, like Jeff did," Ferrell added. "You'resitting right here with me, _Mr._ O'Toole until we find out what this isall about."

  Ferrell turned to Blake.

  "You asked for trouble, Jeff," he said tersely. "You've got it. Theseare the same Silver Masks that have practically ruined my business.Looks as though this might do it. Wade was told to clean out this tribeof black devils six months ago. I detailed fifty men to work with him.I'll bet you a ten spot that at this moment Wade Blake is at SouthStation watering his flower bed, or some equally insane occupation."

  Dauna was on her feet, arms akimbo, cheeks blazing.

  "That's not fair, Dad," she flared. "He just isn't the type of boy tohandle this problem. You saw what happened to Jeff...."

  "Wait a minute," Blake begged. "O'Toole is all for knocking Wade's headagainst his garden wall. Ferrell, you want him to keep us out of troublewhen he's eight thousand miles away, and Dauna is protecting him whenI'm not altogether sure he deserves it. For the time being let's worryabout what is to become of us. Later, there'll be time to fight overWade."

  Ferrell looked abashed.

  "You're right," he admitted more quietly. "But you're a better man thanI am if you can make sense out of this. Why don't they take what theywant, kill us and be on their way?"

  Blake looked out of the window. The sky was clear now. The rain hadstopped and the moon and stars were visible.

  "I think I can answer that," he said. "From my following the stars, weare now heading directly east, into the heart of the mountain country.If I'm correct on directions, the monoline runs directly north andsouth. Right?"

  O'Toole pushed past him and strained his face to the glass. He turned,face shining.

  "By golly," he said. "Jeff's right. We must be flying or something.There isn't any track that's laid in this direction!"

  * * * * *

  Ferrell stood at O'Toole's shoulder, looking out into the blackness. Heturned toward them, face stark with terror.

  "It--can't--be!" he spoke slowly. "Vancouver is south of us, andyet...."

  "And yet you're going east." The strange voice cut in on them harshly.

  Blake wheeled about to face the third Silver Mask he had seen tonight.The man towered above them, a full seven feet tall. His thick lips,visible below the mask, were curved in a cruel, delighted smile.

  "You've bought one way tickets," he said gruffly. "Tickets that willtake you--nowhere."

  Continuing, he turned to Ferrell.

  "Walter Ferrell, and his daughter, Dauna Ferrell. Am I right? We arefortunate in picking our company tonight."

  "As owner of this rail line," Ferrell demanded in an even voice. "I wantto know what this is all about. Where are we going?"

  Outside the sounds of the wheels had faded. The train wasn't moving. Itseemed to tip at a slight angle, as though leaning on some support.

  "My name is Harror," Silver Mask said. "You're not going anywhere forthe time being, and while you are here I'll thank you to call me _Mr._Harror. Don't try to leave this car. My men are stationed all around thetrain with orders to shoot and look afterward. Take a look outside in afew minutes. You may be surprised."

  He turned and stooped to go through the door.

  Blake turned to Ferrell and O'Toole.

  "I haven't got the drift of all this yet," he admitted. "But we're infor trouble and plenty of it."

  * * * * *

  Blake was sitting quietly in the smoker, head reclining on the windowledge, eyes half closed in a cloud of smoke. The girl and her fatherwere asleep. O'Toole pretended to be, but Blake wasn't sure of theIrishman. O'Toole slept with one eye open most of the time.

  The deep silence and blackness outside of the window could indicate onlyone thing. They were in some sort of a cave. The giant Harror had saidif they looked out, they might be surprised. Yet, hours had passed, andthe place was quiet and black as a tomb.

  The door opened and a newspaper flopped on the floor. Blake went forwardand picked it up.

  "Thought you'd like to see the big news." It was Harror's heavy voicerumbling from the doorway. "Flown in from South Station. We've beenwaiting to see what reaction the kidnaping of a train might have."

  Blake listened quietly, and without a word turned on his heel andreturned to his chair. The door closed on them again.

  Blake glanced at the headline. Then the full significance of SilverMask's latest move hit him between the eyes. The headline of the SouthStation Star was in letters six inches high:

  MONO FLYER MISSING

  Entire Train Lost Without Trace

  Mono 6, crack flyer of the "Hope to Horn" mono line disappeared from the face of the earth tonight. On board were Walter Ferrell, the company's owner, and Dauna, his daughter. At an emergency meeting of the board of directors, it was admitted that not the slightest clue to the train's whereabouts has been discovered.

  Soon after midnight, Mono 6 of the west coast's crack Mono Line left Hope, Alaska. No further reports came after it passed the first five-hundred-mile zone. Reports of a wreck are unconfirmed. A complete search of the track failed to bring to light the slightest hint of the flyer's final resting place.

  In the past few hours the company has faced the problem of handling thousands of tour cancellations. Officials of the line are attempting vainly to allay the fears of both would-be passengers and stockholders. Wade Blake, Vice President of the company had previously ordered an investigation in an attempt to track to earth the series of strange accidents that have followed the Hope to Horn mono line for some months, but cannot be located at present for a statement.

  Blake threw the paper on the floor. There was more to the story. Muchmore. Here in a few columns he had read the final exit of a greatrailroad line and its owner. Unless Walter Ferrell and Mono 6 couldarrive at South Station, unharmed and within a few hours, the worldwould refuse to accept further service from the Hope to Horn andFerrell's business would be ruined.

  The article said that Wade could not be located. Blake hoped that he hadbeen close when the train failed to arrive at Vancouver. A momentaryfrown turned down the corners of his lips. Perhaps Wade wasn't ashelpless as they seemed to think. Blake fervently hoped so.

  * * * * *

  Since Blake had finished reading the paper, two hours had passed, asnearly as he could guess. O'Toole came in from the car's smokingcompartment, and sat down wearily across from Blake. He pushed his bigfeet up on the chair beside Blake.

  "What do you make of it?" he asked.

  Blake pointed to the paper silently and O'Toole picked it up. He readquickly, his eyes darting from side to side of the page. His face grewpurple.

  "They certainly pulled a fast one," he growled. "A whole train missing,with the owner of the line and his daughter on it. I never stopped tothink what that might mean when the papers got hold of it."

  "Nor I," Blake admitted. "But Harror did, and if I'm not mistaken,someone with a lot more brains than Harror had the same idea. This thingwas carefully planned, O'Toole, but there are two points that the SilverMasks overlooked."

  O'Toole looked at him questioningly.

  "One was they didn't expect you and me to cause the trouble we're goingto," Blake went on, "and the other is Wade. He's around somewhere. Hemay help us out at the right time."

  O'Toole spat disgustedly.

  "_We_ can cause trouble if we ever get out of here," he admitted. "I'mn
ot so sure of Wade."

  A shaft of light cut in through the window suddenly, blinding them both.

  They stared out with wide eyes. A murmur of voices from the car toldthem that the others were awake, and also impressed by what they saw.

  Mono 6 was in a great cavern. Great black granite walls towered highabove. The mono train had evidently entered the cave slowly and slippedbetween a long row of huge boulders that held it upright. The cave was agraveyard of mono cars. They lay across the full width of its floor,dismantled and torn apart for whatever value