The Short Line War Part 23

"Go ahead," said Harvey.

Jawn pulled the throttle lever, and the long train moved slowly southward.

No. 14 was not full now. The process of dropping men at every station had left only about half the employees, who cl.u.s.tered in the forward cars and looked curiously at the pa.s.sing train. At a shouted order from Mallory, one of his men dropped off with a squad at his back and took possession of the wreck, while Harvey, flushed with victory, moved on to undo the work of the afternoon.

CHAPTER XV

DEUS EX MACHINA

As Senator Sporty Jones stood on the Sawyerville platform and watched No.

14 vanis.h.i.+ng round a curve, his rage against the Superintendent cooled somewhat and hardened into a determination to make somebody pay. The more he thought of it the clearer it grew that the "somebody" should be a bigger man than McDowell, though Sporty meant to get even with him, too, some day. He knew, as did every one who had read the newspapers, the broad outlines of the fight between Weeks and Porter for the road. As he thought it over, the problem seemed to grow more complicated. The Senator hated the two men about equally and had a long score against each of them; for though both were lobbyists on a large scale, neither of them had thought him worth conciliating. He was afraid lest in trying to hurt one he might help the other.

He was capable of quick, clear thinking, and as he ran over in his mind what he knew of the fight, he saw that what encouraged these men so openly to resort to violence was a judicial deadlock. There was just one force which could profitably be appealed to now, the State Executive.

He walked slowly down the rickety wooden steps and across the road; then, after looking about irresolutely, he turned toward the weather-beaten little hotel.

Before he had gone far the deposed station agent overtook him. He was smoking a cigarette with short, nervous puffs, and he fell in step with the Senator, evidently relieved at having a chance to talk.

"What did you think of that?" he asked. "Pretty sudden, wasn't it?"

The Senator grunted a savage a.s.sent, and the agent went on:--

"Well, all I say is, these fellows needn't think they've got any cinch until Jim Weeks has had his innings. He's going to have it, too. This kind of a sc.r.a.p is right in his line."

The Senator seemed to be listening, and the agent was encouraged to try his hand at prophesying what would happen when Jim Weeks should come down the line. When they reached the hotel both men paused, and the Senator said affably,--

"Come in and have something."

"All right, if you mean ginger ale," laughed the agent. "It's a temperance house, with a gold cure on the side."

The disgust of Senator Sporty Jones was expressed with such blasphemous force that the agent was moved to add,--

"You can get anything you want down in the next block."

"All right," grunted the Senator. "Wait a minute, though; I want to telephone."

"There ain't a telephone in town," said the agent. "The line goes up the other side of the river to Tillman. I don't believe you can find a 'phone nearer than Truesdale."

"How far's that?" asked the Senator, after an expressive pause.

"'Bout fifteen miles by the river road. You have to go round by way of Oakwood. It's going to rain, too," he added, glancing at the clouded sky.

The look of annoyance on the Senator's face settled into one of determination, and the agent began to fear lest the invitation to "have something" had slipped from the great man's mind.

The Senator asked slowly, "Is there such a thing as a livery stable in this"--he gulped--"in this town?"

"I guess old man Barnes could let you have some sort of a horse. He's got a place just the other side of Hogan's. I'll go down there with you if you like."

The parley with Barnes took only a few minutes, and at half-past three the Senator drove down the main street and turned west toward the river road.

His vehicle was a light delivery wagon with a canopy over it, and was drawn by a ragged old white horse, which, according to the livery man, was an exceptional animal.

"The General's an aristocrat, he is," said Barnes. "I might say a thoroughbred. I hate like poison to let him out to a stranger, but I let you take him because I see you understand a horse."

There was no flicker of intelligence in the agent's face as he heard the words, but when the Senator asked him to accompany him on the drive he declined. "I want to be on hand," he explained, "when Jim Weeks comes down the line." So Senator Jones started out alone on his drive to Truesdale, and the agent watched him from the door of Hogan's saloon. "Go along with him!" he thought. "I guess not. It'd be a circus, though, to see what happens when they get to the river bridge." Then, as Barnes joined him on the steps, he added, "What do you suppose the General will do to him?"

"Oh, he won't hurt him," answered Barnes. "He'll just turn around and come home when he gets good and ready. Come in and have something."

The General took a violent dislike to the Senator. It annoyed him to have people try to make him go whither he would not, and he shook his head angrily in response to the impatient jerks at the reins. When the Senator tried to accelerate the pace by whacking his toughened flanks with the whip, he kicked up his heels derisively and then stumbled along more wearily if possible than before.

The miles crept by as slowly as he could wish, and he was pleased when they pa.s.sed a fork of the road and he knew he was being driven to the river. He disliked rivers, and had long ago decided that he would never cross one. That his resolution had once been broken was not his fault, for they had dragged him over the Oakwood bridge at the end of a stout rope; but this only made him firmer in his determination, and people who drove him were wont to stay on the west side of the river.

Old man Barnes had given the Senator no hint of this prejudice of the aristocratic animal he was driving, so he had no foreboding of what was going to happen. Now that he had made up his mind that it was worse than useless to try to interfere with the General, he was jogging along in comparative comfort, regardless of the rain which had grown from a fine drizzle to a steady downpour. He thought the chances were in favor of his reaching Truesdale and a telephone by midnight. He smiled at the thought, for he had evolved a scheme that would disconcert both of the contestants for the M. & T. alike, and would show them that he, State Senator Sporty Jones, was not a man to be sneezed at.

About a half a mile above the Oakwood Club House and in full view of it the road crosses the river, and the Senator noticed the big, rambling building on top of the hill, and wondered if they had a telephone there.

"I'll try and see, anyway," he thought.

The General turned willingly up the approach to the bridge, increasing his speed to an almost respectable trot. When he reached the top he stopped in his tracks and stared with disfavor at the worn planks before him. The Senator s.n.a.t.c.hed the whip from its socket and beat upon the General until his arms were tired. At every blow the horse would kick feebly, and then resume a droop-eared att.i.tude, as though grieving over the depravity of man. The Senator looked around helplessly, but there was no aid in sight, so he climbed down from the wagon and walked around to the bridle. The General may have suspected another attempt at dragging, for a vicious snap of his yellow teeth caused the Senator to step back out of reach, completely baffled. He stared an instant at the solemn face before him and then shaking the whip he said,--

"You've got me down this time, d.a.m.n you, but I'll--"

The Senator stopped, his favorite threat unuttered, threw the whip into the river and turning, walked slowly across the bridge, and as he went the story he meant to tell over the 'phone to the Governor grew to fearful proportions. As for the General, when he saw that the victory was won, he turned about and sauntered back to Sawyerville.

In the party of golfers whom the rain had driven from the links to the shelter of the Oakwood Club was Katherine. She had gone once around the short course and perversely enough her score was unusually good; but she could not get her mind off the more exciting game which she knew must be in progress along the railway line west of the river. Altogether she welcomed the rain, and was glad when its increasing violence drove them to the shelter of the club house. There at least she was near a telephone.

She had no disposition to make one of the merry group of men and girls who were drying out before the crackling log fire, but after a moment of hesitation she joined the circle.

One of the men was standing by a window, peering through a field-gla.s.s at the more ardent and impervious enthusiasts who were still following the ball.

"The rain's letting up a bit," he said at length. "You can really see things--h.e.l.lo!"

The group before the fire turned toward him, attracted by the long silence which followed the exclamation. They saw a look of puzzlement on his face which gradually gave place to a broad grin.

"What's up?" asked somebody.

"By George," he exclaimed, lowering the gla.s.s, "that's funny." He raised the gla.s.s again and this time his shoulders shook.

"I didn't know anybody out on the links could be as funny as that," one of the girls observed.

"He isn't on the links," answered the man with the gla.s.s, "he's on the bridge. And the horse is turning round and going back." With which singularly lucid preface, the young man told what he had seen of the General's victory at the Oakwood bridge.

It was about fifteen minutes later when Sporty appeared, dripping and mud bespattered, but kept warm by glowing fires of indignation, and vigorously demanded of the attendant the use of the telephone. At the sound of his voice one of the older men turned quickly and approached him with a word of greeting. "But what's the matter with you, man?" he added, noting the Senator's sorry condition.

"They're having a riot on the railroad," answered Sporty. "Can I use your 'phone?"

"Sure," answered the other. "Right this way," and the two men crossed the hall and disappeared in the office. A few minutes later the man came back and rejoined the group.