To The Front Part 5

"Hullo, Toomey! None of 'em with _that_ gang, but there's three of 'em came, and old Nolan's head of the whole caboodle. He's their cap' and spokesman."

"Nolan! Nolan here?" cried Toomey, in great excitement, while Geordie felt his heart beating hard.

"Nolan, as big as life and twice as wicked."

CHAPTER VII

A BALKED ARREST

For a moment Graham's spirits sank like lead. Nolan, the stanch old soldier who had been his foremost trooper friend and guide, was the man of all others on whom he pinned his faith, on whose help he had relied, and upon whose loyalty and devotion he was ready to stake his every hope of success. And now--so said this former soldier and comrade--now Nolan was here in Argenta, instead of up at the mines, here with a mob of strikers, their leader and spokesman, chief of the crew, possibly, that had nearly done to death the son of one of the princ.i.p.al directors of Silver s.h.i.+eld.

That Breifogle was his father's enemy, and a leading spirit in the plot to rob him, Geordie Graham knew full well. That Breifogle the younger had been sent to Denver to watch for the coming of Dr. Graham, McCrea, or others of the officers, all of whom he knew by sight and name, there was every reason to believe; but that Nolan should take part in or countenance the mobbing of the Breifogles, or any others of the mine-owners, was abhorrent, if not impossible.

Now for the moment Geordie longed for the presence of McCrea, who had remained in Denver in hopes of bringing local officials to their senses and his terms. And McCrea, for his part, was at the same moment wis.h.i.+ng to Heaven he had followed Geordie's lead and pushed ahead for the field of battle. The Denverite members of the board, warned of his presence, had easily managed to elude him, and with others were now on their way to Argenta for a special meeting, while McCrea was still held at a distance, lured by an appointment for a conference to come off that very morning at eleven, long three hours after the other conferees had vanished from town.

But no older head was there to advise. Graham alone, representing the aggrieved shareholders, was at the scene of action. He could take counsel with no man on the ground. Win or lose he must decide and act for himself. Here he sat in the cab of the Mogul, impatient only five minutes back to push ahead for the mines, to get away without recognition. Now it might well be that the point at which to act was right here in town.

"The mine is being operated at heavy expense and loss," had been the latest wail from the secretary. "There is not ore enough in sight to begin to pay the wages of the men. Yet every test convinces us that abundant results must follow further development." Another a.s.sessment, therefore, on top of all previous levies, had been the imperative demand. Geordie did not know it, but that pound was the last that broke the hold of three. They had sold their stock for what it would bring, and Breifogle and his clique were laughing in their sleeves. They knew there was ore in abundance, both in sight and touch. Geordie and McCrea believed it, and believed that if the one could establish the fact, and the other could bring the directors to book with proof of foul measures to squeeze out the small shareholders, victory would be in their hands.

But what was to be done now? By this time the fact that young Breifogle had been fearfully beaten must be known to every man about the station, and was swiftly racing to the opening doors of every shop, office, and homestead in town. By this act the miners had destroyed every hope of sympathy, or even, possibly, of justice. Whatever their grievance it could not warrant murder. But what _was_ their grievance? What could have precipitated trouble at the mines and a wholesale walkout at Silver s.h.i.+eld? What could have brought the miners, nearly a hundred strong, here to Argenta, with Nolan at their head--Nolan, who had been the company's faithful servant, the best manager of men, the most level-headed and reliable "boss" at the Silver s.h.i.+eld?

Toomey's friend had hurried away, for sound of increasing excitement came from the groups, now merging into one, about the telegraph office. Big Ben swung himself out of the cab once more, and with arms akimbo stood watching the distant gathering, wis.h.i.+ng Cullin would come with orders or else with explanation of the delay. This left Graham and Toomey alone in the cab, and Toomey's first question was, "What can you do now, sir?"

"Find Nolan," was the brief answer, "and get to the bottom of this."

"Orders may come any minute," said Toomey, looking anxiously over his shoulder. "We'll have to pull out and go ahead. You couldn't--stay here at Argenta, could you?"

"I may _have_ to. Here's Cullin now."

"But no orders," said Toomey, with a gasp of relief, for from far over the tracks, catching sight of his watchful engineer, Cullin had waved his hand, palm towards them, twice to and fro, a gesture so like the Indian sign "No go" that Geordie knew its meaning at a glance. Silently they awaited his coming and listened, breathless, for his tidings when he came.

"What's the row about?" asked Ben, as Cullin reached them, breathing hard.

"Why, about their boss, it seems. The company gave him the bounce yesterday, and ordered him off the premises. He demanded fair play and a hearing, and then young Breifogle, who had gone up with the order for his discharge, began abusing him. Nolan--that's the man's name--called him down, and then Breifogle broke loose and cursed him, called him traitor and all manner of names, and ordered some of his men to throw him out. They did it, too, and brought on a fight. Breifogle and his friends were armed and the men were not. They shot two miners, arrested the 'ringleaders,' as they called 'em, and locked 'em up. Then the men quit the mine and laid for Breifogle when he tried to get out. He hired a rig and drove t'other way, out to Miners' Joy, slid out on the Narrow Gauge last night, and there was a dozen of 'em headed him off down at the Junction. Nolan and his crowd had come down here to see the directors and get their rights. Of course some of them did it, and there you are!"

"Where's Nolan now?" asked Toomey.

"Where _is_ he? Over at the company's office waiting for the directors, when he ought to be making tracks for Mexico."

Graham's heart had been beating harder with every word. It bounded with wrath as he listened to this, yet listened in silence and stern self-control. But Toomey got a dig in the ribs that plainly said, "Make him say why."

"'Twouldn't be like Long Nolan to be skipping when he's needed by his friends," growled Toomey. "He's no quitter, if he _was_ at Powder River," whereby it was Cullin's turn to get a dig, and little did he relish it.

"That's another I owe you, Toomey," said he, "and we'll settle it by-and-by. Just now I'm thinking for your friend, if you are not. I knew him before ever you did, and would go ten miles to your one to help him. What you haven't sense enough to see is, that it won't be an hour before the sheriff's after him with a warrant, and if Breifogle dies he'll swing, sure as death. He was raving when they threw him out of the gate, and swore he would get even with Breifogle, and when it comes to trial there'll be a dozen witnesses to swear that he _did_.

What kind of a trial do you think he'd have here at Argenta, with half the town owned by Breifogle & Co.?"

This was, indeed, putting a new face on it, and still Graham listened in silence, trying to control the quiver and tingle of his nerves.

There came a sudden call from the office. Shoving his way through the little ma.s.s of miners on the platform, the station-agent stepped to the edge and waved a hand to Cullin, but the hand was empty. The release order had not come. The big Mogul and the freight were still held, and now it was much after seven, and Argenta all astir. Cullin turned doggedly away. He seemed to know what was coming and did not half like it. Leaping down from the platform and striding over the cinder-blackened ties, the agent met him before he crossed the second track--met him and spoke in tone so low even Big Ben could not hear.

All three men at the cab, they could not help it, were listening eagerly. It was easy to see, however, that the station-master was seeking information Cullin could not or dared not give. Every gesture, the upheaved shoulders, the sideward droop of the head, the forward toss of the hands, palms to the front, all as much as said, "Don't ask me." Then the agent turned slowly away, walked a dozen steps, looked back, and called:

"I'll tell 'em what you say, but you'd better come yourself. Narrow Gauge'll get 'the Old Man' on the wire presently, then you'll have to.

I'm betting they hold you here till you do."

"Not if I know myself or--my orders," growled Cullin, as he returned, black-browed, to the cab.

"What's up?" asked Big Ben, presently, seeing that the conductor waited to be asked.

"Why, those Narrow Gauge fellows--they're owned here, you know--claim that two of their men were shot by the same gang that did up Breifogle.

They're wiring both ways from the Junction, up here for sheriff and detectives, and down to the Springs for Bob Anthony. They say No. 4 and I both know things about the slugging we haven't told. They say No.

4 took three of the sluggers away, and that we're hiding some to take up into the mountains and turn 'em loose where they'll be safe. The only man with us is--this kid," and Cullin looked up darkly into the cab, his gloomy eyes on Geordie's coal-blackened face.

Now, indeed, it was time for action, and, quietly as he could, Geordie put the question:

"Did you tell them you had a stranger in the cab?"

"Told 'em you were the only thing--or kind--I had."

"But you told them I'd come all the way with you from Chimney Switch, did you not?"

"I didn't tell 'em anything except what I said to Folder here--the station-master. I told 'em, through him, if they wanted anything on this train they needn't ask me. I wasn't responsible."

Graham and Toomey exchanged quick glances. A wretched end would it be to all their planning if Geordie should now be dragged off the cab as accessory to the a.s.sault on young Breifogle, his helpless charge and patient of the early morning hours.

Yet that was just what now was likely to happen. Resentful of there being a mystery about the cab, a secret he was not allowed to share--an outsider made known by Cullin's superiors to Cullin's subordinates, yet not presented to him--true to human nature Cullin had told what Geordie would conceal. In less than no time the enemy would know 705 had brought a stranger within their gates who was too wary to come by pa.s.senger-train. In less than ten minutes they might be there with a warrant for his arrest.

And at that very moment there went up a shout from the group of miners at the office. One of their kind had come running in, breathless and alarmed. Three or four words only had he spoken, but they were enough.

As one man the twoscore turned and ran for the broad street beyond the pa.s.senger station, were swallowed up in the gap between the express and baggage sheds and the pa.s.senger waiting-rooms, and could be heard shouting loudly beyond the high board fence--a chorus of cheers that seemed to start near the main entrance and went travelling on the wings of the wind westward up the lively street.

And a moment later, even while they were wondering, out came "Folder here," the agent--this time paper in hand and waving for Cullin.

"Orders at last," said Cullin, and sprang to get them. And this time both Graham and Toomey swung from the cab and eagerly followed.

"Warrant out for Nolan!" they heard Folder say, "but they'll not get him here. The gang has whisked him away to the Fort and beyond, I reckon; and the sheriff who goes to Silver s.h.i.+eld takes his life in his hands." Then his eyes fell on the two firemen. "One of _you's_ wanted,"

he added, "but I don't know which, and they're coming now."

He pointed down the yard toward the east entrance. Almost on the run, two men came hurrying in. Toomey grabbed Geordie's sleeve. "They sha'n't have you _here_, anyhow. Jump for the cab." And jump they did, all three. Moved now by some indefinable sympathy he had not felt before, Cullin urged them on, and thrust the order into Big Ben's hairy fist as it swung from the window. Ben gave one glance, his left hand grasping the lever; Toomey made a flying leap for the bell-cord; Geordie scrambled in after; hiss went the steam-c.o.c.ks; clang went the bell, and with an explosive cough that shook her big frame almost free of the rails the Mogul heaved slowly ahead. The shortened "Time Freight" picked up its heels and came jerkily after, and with her ponderous drivers rolling swifter and swifter, and the heavy panting speedily changing to short, quick, and quickening puffs, faster and faster big 705 swung clear of the switch-points, smoothly rounded to the main line, and with its dozen brown chickens following close, Indian file, after the fussy old hen in the lead, away went the fast freight, flaunting its green flags at the rear in the face of the pursuit, and the deputies drew up disgusted at the edge of the yard, their signals and their shouts unheeded.

CHAPTER VIII

A RACE TO THE FORT

Three miles out and the Mogul's six drivers were spinning like so many tops. Flat along the grimy roofs of the heaving freight-cars behind, the cloud of coal smoke from her stunted chimney fled rearward until clear of the train, then drifted idly across the rolling uplands. Ahead and to right and left, distant, snow-capped summits barred the sky-line. On either side the gray-green slopes, bare and treeless, billowed away, higher and higher toward the range, with here and there a bunch of fattening cattle gazing stupidly at the invaders of their peace and quietude. Close at hand to the left the murky waters of the stream flashed quickly by. Close at hand to the right the hard-beaten prairie road meandered over the sod. There had been a ridge or two and some sharp curves just west of town, and now, as they rounded the last of these and flew out upon an almost level track, the bottom of some prehistoric mountain lake, the eyes of two of the three silent occupants of the cab were strained along the gleaming rails ahead, and almost at the same instant the same thought sprang to the lips of each--Big Ben, with his left hand at the throttle, hunched up on his shelf, his cap pulled down over the bushy brows, and Geordie, across the cab on the fireman's seat, clinging to the window-frame to withstand the lurching of the throbbing monster, while between them, on the coal-blackened floor, Toomey, with his big shovel flinging open the iron gate to the blazing furnace for every new mouthful he fed it, and snapping it shut when he turned away for another, for not a whiff of the draught could be wasted. Once past the deserted station at the Fort there would come eight miles of twisting and turning and struggling up-grade, and every pound of steam would be needed to pull even this baker's dozen of heavily laden cars now thundering merrily along behind.