Miss Dividends Part 41

There is a shriek of terror from the engineer of the pursuing locomotive, for Buck Powers, in the moonlight, has risen up beside the switch, and turned it, just as the engine dashes to it, not so as to side-track it, but only half way, to dash it over ties and snow-drifts to destruction.

As the locomotive pa.s.ses, Kruger, who has his pistol in his hand, turns it from the direction of Lawrence and the flying locomotive straight at the breast of the boy at the switch, and fires upon him! And Buck Powers, giving a shriek, staggers and falls into a snow-bank, reddening it with his blood.

But even as Buck does so, he is avenged. The locomotive, plunging forward off the track into the drifting snow, topples over, and though the engineer and fireman jump free, Kruger, with his eye in grim triumph on the dying boy, is thrown beneath the ponderous ma.s.s of iron, that topples over him, crus.h.i.+ng his body, and sending his soul to where the souls of the Danites go.

The engineer and fireman clamber out of the snow-drift unharmed, though shaken up. Three of the Mormon _posse_ who have been with Kruger come out of the snow unarmed, for their Winchesters are buried deep in a white bank; and Lawrence, knowing they are helpless, makes the engineer run his locomotive back to the switch. Springing out, he has the boy in his arms in a minute, and getting into the cab, he holds Buck Powers to his breast, while his locomotive goes on its way unhindered now, though followed by the curses of its Mormon pursuers.

Then Erma whispers to Harry, "What chance?" But he shakes his head, for he knows what those gray-blue lips mean--he has seen them too often on battlefields.

As he does so, the boy, whose face has already grown pallid, and upon whose forehead the dew of death is standing, gasps: "I saved ye, Miss Beauty!--Didn't I do the trick like--like a Chicago railroad man?"

"Yes," sobs the girl, bending over him. "What can I do for you?"

"The Cap won't be jealous--just give me one kiss--that's all. I've never been kissed--by--a--beautiful--young lady."

And two sweet lips come to his, that are already cold, and he gasps: "You're pretty as a Chicago girl--that's where I'm goin'!"

And delirium coming on him, he laughs; for his old life is coming back to him! And the railroad, and the city that he loves so well and is so proud of, getting into his mind, he cries: "I'm braking on the Burlington again, an' we're bound for Chicago. Hoop! we're at the Rock Island crossin'--we've whistled first an' got the right o' way. C. B. & Q.'s always ahead!--Two long toots and two short toots! Town whistle!

We're goin' into Aurorie an' out of it again. Now we whiz through Hinsdale an' Riverside!--I can see the lights of the city.--Engine has whistled for the Fort Wayne crossin'! Sixteenth Street! Slow down! The bell's beginning to ring--the lights are dancin'--Michigan Avenue! We're runnin' for the old Lake Street Station! I'm a-folding up the flags and takin' in the red lights--the bell's ringin' fainter--the whistle's blowin' for brakes--the wheels are goin' slower--slower--slower--the lights is dancin' about me--the wheels are stopped. The train is dead--the lights is goin' out! CHICAGO!!"

And with this cry, Buck Powers goes to Heaven.

Then Erma, bending over him, and wringing her hands, and tears dropping on his dead face, whispers: "Let us take him to Chicago, Harry, and bury him in the city he loved so well!"

And so they do, some months afterward; and there he lies, entombed in that silent city of the dead, beside the waters of the blue lake, and that great city of the living. And no truer heart, nor n.o.bler soul, will ever tread the streets of that grand metropolis of the West, than that of this boy, who loved it so well, and who gave his life for grat.i.tude--now nor to come, even if it grows to have ten millions.

CHAPTER XIX.

ORANGE BLOSSOMS AMONG THE SNOW.

So holding the dead boy in his arms, the engineer contriving to do the firing, they journey slowly along the road to Bridger.

Here, finding telegraphic communication is still cut off with Evanston, they know it is safe to run on to Carter.

From the freight train at this point they fortunately get a man to do the firing of the locomotive, Lawrence paying him for the same.

The sun is rising as they pa.s.s the Carter tank, and the engineer tells them he thinks they have got coal enough, as they are on a down grade, to take them to Granger, for the snow is not so deep here as it was up the mountain.

Finding no orders have been received at this point, they keep on, and finally, about seven o'clock in the morning, they can see the pa.s.senger train from the East, side-tracked half a mile ahead of them at Granger.

"I can't take you any further--I have got no coal--and I don't know what the company will say to my doing what I have done!" mutters the engineer, who is now apparently anxious as to what the Union Pacific will think of his night's performance.

"Here's one hundred dollars!" remarks Lawrence.

"No, I did it because the young lady had been kind to my child!" and the man shakes his head.

"You must take it!" cries Harry. "You will probably be laid off for last night's work!"

"What? For running away from road agents?"

"Running away from sheriff's officers!"

"From officers of the law?" gasps the man of the throttle. Then he cries out suddenly: "They'll discharge me! You've ruined me and my child with your infernal lies!" and he looks at Lawrence with angry eyes.

But Harry says cheerfully: "If they discharge you, this young lady will give you enough money to buy a farm in Kansas. If she doesn't, I will!

Besides," he continues, hoping to soothe the man's fears, "though those fellows we escaped from were Mormon officers, they were acting as bandits, and had no more legal right to do what they were doing in Wyoming, than road agents! I'll give you a bond for the money, if necessary, when we get to the station."

This promise, and the one hundred dollars in hand, makes the engineer feel more comfortable, as they run alongside the pa.s.senger train at Granger. Here many questions are asked them, and in return they discover the wires are still down towards Evanston, and there are, of course, no orders from division headquarters.

At this place Lawrence arranges for the transportation of the boy's body to the East, for he is very anxious to get it out of Miss Travenion's sight, who sits in the locomotive cab, half dazed, though when she looks upon what was once Buck Powers, she sometimes mutters with a shudder: "This time yesterday he was alive and happy--and now he's dead--for me,"

and fondles the boy's cold hand.

Lawrence is thus compelled to tell the story of the night's happenings, which he does to the station agent, who acts as constable at this place.

This official looks serious, and rubs his head, and says: "Hanged if I know what I'd better do! Buck got his death killing the infernal Mormon in Uintah County, and this is Sweet.w.a.ter! I guess you'd better take the young lady on to Green River, and then if they want you back for a coroner's inquest, or to try you for murder, you can go to Evanston, if you can get there--which looks almighty dubious just about now," for another snow-storm seems to be blowing up.

Thinking it best to follow the man's advice, and a locomotive being compelled to go to Green River, though the wires are still down to division headquarters, and consequently no orders, Lawrence takes the opportunity, and succeeds, about one o'clock in the day, in getting his sweetheart to the comforts of the Green River station, where there is quite a town, a pleasant hotel, and plenty to eat. For all the stations he has run by this day, at that time were but little more than telegraph offices and water tanks, with freight-house attachments at some of them, and have not much increased in size or importance, even to this day.

At Green River, snow comes upon them again, and the yard gets full of trains, though none leave for the East; for the Union Pacific is beginning to appreciate what the great blockade of 1871 means.

Telegraphic communication having been restored between Evanston and Green River, Lawrence wires the superintendent of the division a statement of what happened at Aspen and Piedmont, and receives the following characteristic reply:

"Shall hold you for damage to locomotive. The homicide part of the matter is not our business."

A day or so after this, a pa.s.senger train gets through from the West to Green River, and walking out to meet it, Harry is astonished but delighted to see Mr. Ferdinand Chauncey step out of one of its sleepers.

This gentleman, being brought in to see Miss Travenion, informs her of her father's safety.

"I got him out of the mine within two hours," he says, "of Lawrence's leaving. Together we sneaked down through Mormondom to Ogden, where your papa concealed himself on a Central Pacific train, and is now in California, I imagine, unless the snow-drifts on the C. P. are as bad as on this!"

Relieved from anxiety about her father, Erma begins to pick up spirits again, for this young lady, in her life that has been so easy up to this time, has not been accustomed to seeing men die for her, and has not recovered from the death of the boy at the Piedmont switch.

A little while after, Mr. Chauncey, who has an Evanston "_Age_" in his pocket, pulls it out, and says: "Perhaps you may be interested in that!"

pointing to an article in the newspaper which is an account of the inquest by coroner's jury held upon the body of Kruger at Evanston.

They had taken the evidence of some of the train-hands, and the verdict had been:

"That the boy Buck Powers killed Kruger, and Kruger killed Buck Powers!

Consequently there is an all-round _nolle prosequi_ in the matter."

This rather unique finding pleases Harry immensely, for now, he imagines, he will not be delayed in getting his sweetheart to civilization.

Some two or three hours after, telegraphic orders being received, they board the same train that Mr. Ferdie has come into Green River on, and depart for the East.

Pa.s.sing through Rawlings in the night, early the next day they find themselves halted by the snow blockade at Medicine Bow, about one hundred miles west of Laramie; and this time it seems to be a permanent stoppage.