THE EXPRESS SPECIAL.

Nothing further was said at the time concerning Rod’s most cherished scheme and as Brakeman Joe reported for duty that very day Rod was at a loss to know what he should do next. He doubted if Truman Stump could command sufficient influence to secure his appointment as fireman before he had undergone a preliminary training as wiper and hostler in the round-house, though he felt that he already possessed experience as valuable as any to be gained in those positions. Still it was a rule that firemen should be taken from the round-house and Rod knew by this time that railroad rules are rarely broken.

Of course he could not retain Joe’s position now that the latter had returned to it, and he would not if he could. No indeed! Joe’s face still pale from his long confinement was too radiant with happiness at once more getting back among his old friends and associations for Rod to dim it by the faintest suggestion that the honest fellow’s return to duty was likely to throw him out of a job. So he congratulated Joe upon his recovery, as heartily as any one, and retold the story of his plucky fight with the thieving tramps to the little group of railroad men gathered in caboose number 18 to welcome him back.

As they were all talking at once and making a hero of Brakeman Joe they were hushed into a sudden silence by the unexpected entrance of Mr. Hill the Superintendent. Merely nodding to the others this gentleman stepped up to Brakeman Joe with extended hand, saying cordially:

“Good evening, conductor. I am glad to see you back among us again. I hope you are all right and will be able to take your train out on time to-night.”

“Sir! I——” stammered the astonished Joe.

“You must be mistaking me for Conductor Tobin, sir.”

“Tobin? oh no! I know him too well ever to mistake any one else for him. I take you to be Conductor Joseph Miller of the through freight, whose promotion has just been posted, to take effect immediately. I have also assigned two new men to your train, with orders to report at once. Here they come now.”

This announcement fell like a bomb-shell; and the cheer of congratulation that Joe’s friends attempted to raise was checked, half-uttered, by the distressed look on Conductor Tobin’s face. Could it be that he had heard aright? Was it possible that he was thus unceremoniously thrown out of work to make a place for his former brakeman? His expression was quite as bewildered as that of Brakeman Joe, and the Superintendent, noticing it, allowed an amused smile to flit across his own face.

“Don’t be alarmed, Tobin,” he said, reassuringly; “the Company can’t very well spare your services, and have no idea of doing so. If you can make it convenient I should like to have you take out number 29 to-night, and, as you will need an extra hand, I have decided to send young Blake on the same train; that is, if it will be agreeable to you to have him.”

Number 29! The Continental Express Company’s Special! Why, only passenger conductors had that train! What could Mr. Hill mean?

“It’s all right, Tobin,” continued that gentleman, noting the other’s embarrassment; “your name has gone on to the passenger list, and if you do as well there as you have with your freights I shall be more than satisfied. I hope this change strikes you as being one for the better also?” he added, turning to Rod.

“Yes, sir, only——” began Rodman, who was about to say something concerning his desire to be made a fireman, when he suddenly remembered that Truman Stump had requested him not to speak of it just yet.

“Only what?” asked Mr. Hill, a little sharply.

“I was afraid I hadn’t experience enough,” answered Rod.

“That is a matter of which I claim to be the best judge,” replied the Superintendent, with a smile. “And if I am satisfied of your fitness for the position you certainly ought to be. Now, Tobin, look lively. Number 29 must be ready to leave in half an hour. Good-night and good luck to you.”

Thus Conductor Tobin’s long and faithful service, and Brakeman Joe’s suffering, and Rod Blake’s strict attention to duty were all rewarded at once, though in Rodman’s case the reward had not taken exactly the shape he desired. Still, a promotion was a promotion, and where there were so many competitors for each upward step, as there always are on a railroad, it was not for him to grumble at the form in which it came.

So as the young railroad man gathered up his few belongings, he gratefully accepted the congratulations of his friends. A few minutes later he bade freight conductor Joe good-by, and in company with passenger conductor Tobin he left caboose number 18 with much the same feeling that a young scholar leaves his primary school for one a grade higher.

Number 29 was a peculiar train, and one that Rod had often watched rush past his side-tracked freight with feelings of deep interest, not unmixed with envy. It always followed the “Limited,” with all the latter’s privileges of precedence and right of way. Thus it was such a flyer that the contrast between it and the freight, which always had to get out of the way, was as great as that between a thoroughbred racer and a farm-horse. It was made up of express cars, loaded with money, jewelry, plate, and other valuable packages, which caused it to be known along the road as the “gold mine.” In its money-car was carried specie and bank notes from the United States Treasury, and from Eastern banks to Western cities. Thus it was no unusual thing for this one car to carry a million dollars’ worth of such express matter. Each car was in charge of a trusted and well-armed messenger, who locked himself in from one end of his run to the other, and was prepared to defend the valuables entrusted to his care with his life. Thus number 29 was one of the most important as well as one of the very fastest trains on the road; while to run on it was considered such an honor that many envious glances were cast at Rod as he stood on the platform beside it awaiting the starting-signal.

There had been no time for him to procure the blue uniform suit, such as the crews of passenger trains, with whom he now ranked, are required to wear; and as the jumper and overalls of a freight brakeman would have been decidedly out of place on an express special, Rod had hastily donned his best suit of every-day clothes. Thus as he stood near the steps of the single passenger coach that was attached to the train in place of a caboose for the accommodation of its conductor and brakemen, he was not to be distinguished from the throng of passengers hastening aboard the “Limited” on the opposite side of the platform.

For this reason a young man, with a stout leather travelling bag slung on his shoulder, paid no attention to the young brakeman, as after a hurried glance up and down the platform, he sprang aboard and entered the coach.

With a bound Rod was after him. “Hello, sir!” he cried; “you must have made a mistake. This is not a passenger train.”

“No?” said the other coolly, and Rod now noticed that he wore a pair of smoked glasses. I thought it was the “Limited.”

“That is the ‘Limited,’ across the platform,” explained Rod politely.

“Are you sure of it?”

“Certainly I am.”

“What makes you think this is not it?” asked the other with a provoking slowness of speech as though time was no object to him, and he did not care whether the “Limited” started without him or not.

“Because I belong on this train and it is my business to be sure of things connected with it,” replied Rod, still speaking pleasantly.

“Oh, you do, do you. Are you its conductor?”

“No, sir, but I am one of its brakemen.”

“Are there any more like you?”

“Yes, sir, there is another like me. I sha’n’t need his help though to put you off this train if you don’t get off, and in a hurry too,” answered Rod hotly, for he began to suspect that the young man was making fun of him.

“Oh, come now!” said the passenger mildly, “don’t get excited, I’m perfectly willing to go. It was a very natural mistake for a blind man to make. You may be blind yourself some day, and then you’ll find out.”

“I didn’t know you were blind, sir,” exclaimed Rod apologetically and instantly regretting his harshness toward one so cruelly afflicted. “I am very sorry, and if you will allow me, I will see you safely aboard the ‘Limited.’”

The young man accepted this offer, explaining at the same time that while he was not totally blind, his sight was very dim. So Rod helped him off one train and into the other, striving by every attention to atone for the abruptness with which he had spoken before learning of the other’s infirmity. As he took the stranger’s hand to guide him down the steps of the coach he noticed that the large diamond of a ring worn by the latter, had cut its way through the back of one of his kid gloves.

A moment later the “Limited” pulled out, and in a few minutes the express special, laden that night with a freight of unusual value, followed it.