ON THE HANDCAR

"Waterloo!" exclaimed Nap.

"There's a chance yet," Bunny urged. "Maybe she's just moving up to the switch to get on another track."

"A fat chance!" said the cynical Specs. "That other track runs to New York or San Francisco or somewhere. No, siree, that train isn't coming back to Harrison City again to-day."

As the boys watched the fading black smoke, it grew more and more evident that Specs was right. The train which was to have been their salvation had gone without them.

Bunny shook his head stubbornly. "I don't know how we are going to get there, but I mean to keep on trying. Nobody is licked till he gives up, and we are a long way from giving up. Does anybody want to quit?"

The "no" that answered was not full-throated, but it satisfied the patrol leader.

"All right, then; we'll take up the Scout's pace again till we reach the station."

It was a few seconds past 10:49 when the boys crossed the tracks; it still lacked a little of 10:50 when Bunny found the young man in charge of the station puttering over a trunk in the baggage room.

"Oh, you're the one who telephoned about that train?" he said, smiling pleasantly. "Well, she left ahead of time; there's no doubt about that. I don't know why she did any more than you do. She came puffing in, and Mr. Gillen—he's the station master here—hopped on board to speak to the conductor, and the train carried him off, too. Never left before like that, and I don't understand it. Nobody told me a word about it."

"Where's the next stop?"

"Wells Junction. That's just three miles away. They wait there till 11:05 to make connections with the B. & X."

"Three miles." Bunny did a little mental arithmetic. "Why, we could catch it there, then, if we just had some way of getting there."

The young man became interested. "Did you say there were nine of you? Well, here's a hand car that I was going to send up to the Junction sometime this afternoon. It would be perfectly safe, because there aren't any freights coming, and there isn't another passenger due till midnight. Let's see. You want to go to Deerfield, where you take the 'bus for Belden. Now, you buy tickets for Deerfield, and I will let you take the hand car. If you miss the train for any reason, you can turn in your tickets and get your money back."

To Bunny, it seemed altogether too good to be true; but there was no time to waste rejoicing over the news.

"All right," commented Bi a little heavily, "but I never thought I should have to pay for my own ticket. Still, of course, there's no way out of it."

It required the greater portion of the Scouts' ready cash to pay for the thirty-eight-mile trip to Deerfield. Roundy had disappeared, so his ticket had to be purchased out of the common fund; but they had barely worked the hand car to the main track before he hove in sight, his arms full of sandwiches and boxes of crackers.

"Getting along toward dinner time," he explained, "and nobody knows when we'll get anything to eat, if we don't stock up when we have the chance."

The young man at the station gave them a parting word of advice. "You may think the hand car works hard at first, but after you get going it will pretty nearly run itself. Don't waste any time, but roll 'er along as fast as you can. Turn it over to the agent at the Junction and tell him that Jensen sent you. By-by!"

The young man was right. The hand car did run loggily at first; but with four hardy Scouts on each handlebar, it slowly gained headway.

"It's not exactly an automobile," said Specs, between strokes, "but it goes."

"You can't puncture the tires, either," added Jump.

"Somebody punctured this right forward one," suggested S. S., as by jolt and jar the wheel proved that it was no longer as round as it had been.

Nap had the solution. "Keep your eyes open, Mr. Sherlock Holmes Bonfire, and when you see a 'Free Air' sign we'll stop."

For the first time since the fire, the Black Eagles were actually growing cheerful. They seemed no longer chasing a will-o'-the-wisp hope; at last, they were substantially on their way to victory. The handles fairly flew.

"I guess old Professor Leland will be glad to see us," chuckled Roundy.

"And I guess the Belden team won't like it so well," observed Specs.

"And that party they are going to give us after the game," Bi said, smacking his lips. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."

They spun along up a little grade, through a deep cut, and out upon a high trestle.

"If we were inside the car of a train," Bunny said, "we wouldn't notice a little thing like this." He looked down at a cottage nestling upon the slope below. "I hope there's somebody there with a blanket to catch us if we go over the edge."

"Somebody on the path at this side," called Bonfire. "It's a railroad man, too."

"How do you know? Is he wearing overalls and carrying an oil can?"

"No, he has on a blue uniform. Might be a conductor; or he may work around a station, or—"

Raspingly and distinctly above the clatter-clatter of the hand car, a voice shouted from below.

"Stop!"

"He's calling to us."

"Let him call. Maybe he's just making a speech to the trestle." Thus Specs.

"Stop that hand car!"

They had already spanned the tiny bridge and were upon the solid track beyond. Just ahead, the rails curved around a steep bank.

"Let him yell," said Bi defiantly. "He hasn't any way of stopping us, has he? Probably thinks we are stealing this old pushcart. Well, we aren't."

"What's he got to do with it, anyhow?" spluttered Nap, plunging harder than ever on the handle. "We had permission to do this, and we're going to do it, Mr. Blue Uniform or not."

It was Bunny who settled the matter. Throwing his weight on the bar as it came up, and holding it back as it swung down, he issued his orders as patrol leader. "Everybody hold fast. We're going to stop and find out what he wants."

There was a grunt of indignant protest from Specs, but the others obeyed first and talked afterwards.

"Look here, Bunny," Bi objected, as the car slowed down, "you are running this party and I'm not; so what you say goes. But I don't see any use of stopping. We aren't doing anything wrong. We've been given permission to operate the car. He hasn't any right to tell us we can't, and if he tells us we can—why, we know that already. There he comes now up over the bank. I say, start up again and explain when we get to Wells Junction."

Specs chimed in. "We're not going anywhere on our own account; we're going to play baseball for the school. All we're doing by stopping now is asking for trouble."

The wheels ground to a dead center.

Bunny's lips were set. "I know how you feel. I feel that way myself. But I know we can't do that sort of thing. This man isn't a section hand: he's wearing a uniform; he has a cap; it looks as if he had some right to tell us to stop. I'll put it up to him just as strong as I can, and he may let us go on. If he won't—"

The man was within fifty yards of them, running at a clumsy gait up the track. Though puffing and out of wind, he did his best to shout.

"Take—that—hand car—off the—track!"

"Like fun we will!" muttered Specs.

The man came on, repeating his command. "Take it off—yank it off—right away!"

Bunny stiffened. "I don't think you understand—"

"You young rascals stole this car. Yes, you did. You can't tell me any different." He was with them now; he placed protecting hands on the property of the R. A. & S. Railroad. "If you don't yank it off the track, right on the dot, I'll—"

Bunny's eyes narrowed. His hands, quite without any effort on his part, became fists. But he kept his voice level, though it had what Specs called later "a sort of grindstone sound."

"We are Boy Scouts," explained Bunny, "and we have been given permission to use the car. We stopped because we thought you had the right to tell us to stop; not because we are afraid of you. We are going to Wells Junction, and if you have nothing better to do than call us names, Mister, we'll keep right on going there."

When they talked it over afterward, everybody but Specs agreed that the man changed his style of remarks, not because he was afraid, but because he had begun to understand. However this might be, his next speech was much milder.

"Permission or not, you will have to yank this car off the track; we can talk about it later."

"But why?"

"Why! Because, if you don't, you're going to be smashed into a million pieces. There is a big special coming through any minute. It's on its way. Now, get that hand car off where it won't be responsible for an accident."

Though not trained section hands, the Black Eagles came near making a record in tipping, levering and hoisting the unwieldy hand car to a safe place along the right of way. Once it was safely there, the man in uniform seated himself on it and wiped his forehead.

"I haven't had such a turn since the bad wreck in '96. Why, when I saw you boys going lickety-split along the track, I was ready to curl up and quit. How did you happen to have the car, anyhow?"

As rapidly as possible, Bunny told him the story of the morning's adventures, including the acquisition of the hand car.

"So Jensen said that, did he? Well, he has been working there about a week, and what he doesn't know about railroading would fill a library. Letting a lot of boys come up the track in a hand car! I never heard of such a thing."

"Is your name Gillen?" asked Bonfire suddenly.

"My name's Gillen. I am the station master at Harrison City. I am responsible for whatever happens around here. There was something the matter with the wires this morning, and the last half-hour every message we received was chopped up like so much sausage. We did not get a word about the special. I hopped on the 11:50—it rolled in at 11:48—to find out what they knew, and they carried me right along. They had orders to run right through to Wells Junction unless they had passengers waiting. They dropped me here at the trestle, and I had just telephoned Jensen about it when I heard you coming. Since I stopped that hand car, I feel about ten years younger."

The minutes were ticking away, but there was nothing to be done. With the news of the special on its way, it was plain that any thought of going ahead must be put aside until they could count on a clear track. Already a mile had been covered, but the remaining distance was too great to walk in the limited time left them. No, there was nothing to do but wait.

Mr. Gillen went to the house below, to finish his talk over the telephone with Jensen, while the boys fumed to no purpose. It was after eleven o'clock when he returned, and it was almost five minutes later when the special, with its private car, rumbled by with a swish of dust and cinders.

"I am sorry, boys," said the station master, "but it is against the rules of the road to allow any outsider to take chances like those you were taking. If the special had come nine minutes ago, I should have gone on with you myself; but it's too late now even for that."

Bunny looked at his watch. At that very moment, the train which they had tried so desperately to catch must be pulling out of Wells Junction. They had lost their last chance of continuing their trip to Belden in one of its coaches.