Ralph in the Switch Tower Part 23

"Train ditched--wrecking crew ordered out."

"Yes, I know--the wash-out at Acton," said Ralph--"the in express."

"No, the outmail--just beyond the limits."

"What!" cried Ralph in a startled tone.

He kept at the levers until he saw the handcar speed safely down the main rails. Then he ran to the telephone and called up the limits tower.

There was no action, and no response.

"That's bad," murmured Ralph--"fuse burned out. The lightning has put the 'phone out of commission. I wish I understood things straight. Two trains delayed by the wash-out. The mail ditched. Bad shape all around, this, for such a night."

Ralph wished he could run up to the dispatcher's office and get more information at the depot. This he dared not do, however. He paced up and down restlessly, wondering how serious the mishap to the mail might be.

It was precisely one o'clock when the dial hand moved with a kind of an electric tang. It circled and then shot back, as if directed by an erratic hand.

Ralph watched it intently. That dial disc was his only present reliable communication with the outside railroad world. The pointer vibrated, then halted.

"Through freight, track 7," it directed.

"Why," exclaimed Ralph, "that can't be! The through freight is stalled at Acton behind the express, and--why, she's coming now!"

He could hardly believe his eyes. Usually a minute and a half elapsed before a train announced at the limits showed coming around the curve.

Now, boring the water-laden air with a quiver that showed full speed, a great laboring headlight glared along the in tracks.

Had Ralph caught her sooner, he could have switched onto any one of the half a dozen tracks which were empty. She was now past all the main switches, however, except the in pa.s.senger track 7 and inside 6.

"It is No. 3, the through freight, sure enough," said Ralph, recognizing the approaching train with the intuitive sense of experience. The headlight, the sway of the ponderous locomotive, the very sound of the long train, vague as it was, told a sure story to his practiced eye and ear.

"She must have got around the wash-out and ahead of the express," said Ralph. "Why, there's some mistake at the limits. She should have been given the long freight siding, and she has pa.s.sed it, and--track 7. It's in use!"

Ralph, darting to the levers, uttered these words in a great hollow shout.

Lever 7, operating the switches of that set of rails, had a card hung to its handle. These cards were always used nights as a guide to the levermen, where any special, extra, or transient cars, pa.s.senger or freight, were stationary.

The sight of the card recalled a startling fact to Ralph: at the depot end of track 7 lay the occupied tourist car of an Uncle Tom's Cabin theatrical troupe which was then visiting Stanley Junction.

"Something wrong at limits--everything wrong here!" panted Ralph, his heart suddenly beating like a trip-hammer. "What shall I do?"

He shot a glance at the nearing headlight. Relying on limits signals, evidently expecting the long freight siding, in the darkness and storm taking no note of outside switches, and behind time, those in charge of the through freight had nearly full speed set.

Ralph felt the blood leave his face. Through his mind in rapid sequence ran the plat of switches at the depot yards.

"No. 6, or destruction!" he gasped. "I've got to make the choice. It's the only track open. Open--no!" he added, with a new thrill of apprehension, "but--there's no other way."

He pulled the lever that would send the through freight down track 6.

Then a wild tumult seized him. He darted for the trap. He almost fell the length of the iron-runged ladder. Then Ralph sprang through the doorway and tore across the tracks.

Track 6 was not empty. At its b.u.mpered end were three old empty freights. Ralph, however, counted their destruction as of little consequence as compared with a crash on track 7 into the theatre car, holding perhaps a dozen sleeping inmates. He had made an independent choice. He had saved them. Now, if possible, to save the freight train from a collision!

As he pa.s.sed the switch he tore from a pivot the signal lantern resting there. Carrying it in his arms, he dashed forward diagonally to meet the rus.h.i.+ng freight. Extending its red slide, he waved frantically up and down and across, yelling at the top of his voice.

The locomotive of the through freight whizzed by him. In the blur of rain and radiance Ralph fancied a grizzled head was poked out through the cab window. At all events he caught the quick, harsh whistle of the air brakes. A jolt shook the long freights. His signal had been observed.

Following the locomotive with his eye, Ralph saw, three hundred yards further on, a figure suddenly cleave the air. The engineer had put on full stop brakes and had jumped.

The train was slowing up. Would she stop in time? Car after car whirled by. Then cras.h.!.+ Far ahead, the last car past him, Ralph caught the ominous sound, and s.h.i.+vered and gasped.

CHAPTER XIX--THE DOUBLE WRECK

Ralph Fairbanks had disobeyed orders.

That was the first overwhelming thought that rushed through the young leverman's mind. He stood in the midst of the storm, still clasping the red switch light.

The echo of that ominous crash was in his ears. Louder and fiercer, it seemed, thumping away at his heart with a dull, depressing force, was the realization that he had violated the stringent instructions of his superior, Jack Knight: "Never disobey orders!"

Something had been wrong at the limits tower--hence, two wrecks within sixty minutes. But that was not Ralph's business. Limits had ordered track 7. He had sent the through freight down track 6. No matter what humane sense had prompted his choice, the railroad regime was strictly inviolable. There had been a wreck, how bad he did not yet know, and he was responsible for it.

The freight had come to a stop. Lanterns now began to flit in its vicinity. Above the raging tumult of the storm, vague shouts reached Ralph's ear.

A brakeman, carrying a lantern, came rus.h.i.+ng towards him.

"What has happened?" asked Ralph faintly.

"Towerman?" queried the brakeman sharply, flas.h.i.+ng the lantern in Ralph's face. "Only a shake-up at my end. What's ahead, I don't know.

Nothing coming behind?"

"No--get me word how bad the smash-up is, will you?" and, recalled to his duty by the brakeman's appearance, Ralph hurried back to the tower.

He closed the switch on track 6. Then, somewhat faint and badly worried, he sank into the armchair. Nothing was due on regular schedule. The express was reported stalled. Still, so many strange mix-ups had occurred during the night, that Ralph watched the dial, on the keen edge of suspense and distraction.

"h.e.l.lo!" he cried finally, and started to his feet in wonder.

The dial disc transfixed his glance. It had begun to work. Within thirty seconds it indicated as many varied orders. It scheduled freights, pa.s.sengers, "chasers." It called for one switch after another.

In stupefaction Ralph watched the bra.s.s index finger flit, whirl, and tremble. Then it circled round and round several times, vibrated at "blank," and rested there.

"Why!" gasped the stupefied Ralph, "am I crazy, or is someone else at the other end of the line?"

Voices below made Ralph start, listen, and watch. A grimed face came up through the trap. Ralph recognized the fireman of the through freight.

"Quick!" he spoke--"how bad?"