Mystery Rides the Rails. Gilbert A. Lathrop

      SNOWSLIDES

      MR. OREST came down to the engine house next morning to find Joe Jutton with his face well smudged and wearing his indomitable grin. He was working on the machinery of the little narrow gauge engine which carried a massive wedge plow bolted on her front end. She was a diminutive little thing, this locomotive. Weighing less than thirty tons, complete with tender, water, and coal, she had two pairs of pony truck wheels and two pairs of drive wheels. But she was equipped with an electric dynamo and automatic air brakes. Joe felt immediately drawn to her.

      It was a hazardous undertaking at best. “Bucking” out the snowslides with the wedge plow meant the two lads must run their engine at top speed into the obstructions, throwing as much of the snow out with the wedge plow as was possible, and then backing up and hitting them again.

      There were many things against the successful undertaking. The locomotive was liable to leave the rails. She was liable to turn over if she happened to strike any ice. On one side of them was a steep slope which extended down several hundred feet to the river. If their little iron steed ever decided to roll down this, it was all their lives would be worth.

      Tubby was busy in the left-hand side of the cab. He had polished it up, wiped off the steam and air gauges, shined the headlight reflector, and otherwise policed up the little engine until she fairly glistened.

      Mr. Orest had spent a good deal of the night before in thinking over the proposition of the lads. In the first place, both of them were extremely young. Perhaps they were too young for the undertaking. He had concluded, after much thought, that he would give them a chance to back out of their obligation if they wished.

      “Where’s your chum?” asked Mr. Orest, as he came up beside Joe.

      Joe looked up from his task of tightening the brasses on the main rod.

      “He’s in the cab,” said Joe with a grin.

      “Call him down,” commanded Mr. Orest.

      Joe shouted up to his companion. Soon Tubby dropped down beside them. “What ith it?” he asked.

      “I have slept on the matter of you lads trying to open up my railroad,” said Mr. Orest, “and I’m afraid it’s too hazardous an undertaking. Neither of you is of age?” he ended.

      Joe shook his head. “I’m eighteen, and Tubby is the same,” he said.

      “You see, you’re too young. If anything should happen to you boys during your undertaking, I’d be held responsible by your parents.”

      “But we have no parenth,” said Tubby.

      “What? No parents?” asked Mr. Orest in disbelief.

      “He’s right,” said Joe. “Both of us are orphans. We were given a high school education, and turned loose to shift for ourselves over a year ago.”

      Mr. Orest shook his head uncertainly. “But I don’t want you lads to run the risks connected with bucking out those slides,” he said at last.

      Joe began chuckling. “If you have any fear about us not being able to take care of ourselves, you can forget it,” he said. “We have taken greater risks than what we face today.”

      Mr. Orest thought deeply. “You think there is a chance of your getting through safely?” he asked at last.

      “There abtholutely ith. We’ve been through worth than what we’re going againtht today, a hundred times,” said Tubby in a coaxing voice.

      Joe nodded.

      Mr. Orest fell into thought again. There were a multitude of reasons why he did not want the two lads to go through with their bargain. And every one of the reasons was directly centered about the president of the Silver Town National Bank and a certain mortgage for eleven thousand dollars, plus some relationship between the president of the bank and a certain engineer who had been working for the Silver Town Northern Railroad. Sleeping overnight on the matter had impressed itself on the mind of Mr. Orest that he was making a poor move.

      And yet, now that he was standing in the presence of the two lads again, some of their assurance seemed to go into him and make him feel entirely different to what he had felt an hour ago. There were decision and certainty in every action of red-headed Joe Jutton and his round-faced companion, Tubby. Many of the doubts which Mr. Orest had felt the night before evaporated like water on a hot summer day. At last he looked up at them. “All right,” he said in a decisive tone. “I want to see you lads get through, and I believe that if anyone can make it, you can. I’ll go and notify my shovel men that they are to work under your instructions until further orders.” He was gone, out of the engine house.

      “Tubby, if you’ll open the doors, I’ll run her outside,” Joe said when Mr. Orest was gone.

      Tubby went forward and threw the massive doors open so the little locomotive could be run outside. The wedge plow on her front end extended higher than her headlight. She was a little sixty-ton engine, with her boiler reaching back through the cab. She had forty-inch drive wheels.

      Joe clambered up into the cab and moved her outside. She was sluggish from sitting idly through the past several weeks, and her cylinders were full of water. When she chuffed forward, she threw dirty black rain over the snow-covered right of way.

      Outside the engine house, Joe halted while he waited for Mr. Orest to return with his gang of men.

      In a short time the owner came into sight. A long line of heavily dressed shovel men trailed along at his heels. Mr. Orest came directly up to the engine and addressed himself to Joe.

      “If you’ll move down near the depot, you’ll find a coach. You can pick it up to haul these men in,” he instructed.

      Joe whistled off and hissed down the house track with spitting cylinder cocks. A cloud of steam almost completely hid him and his engine.

      Mr. Orest provided his men with shovels, then he followed along on foot to the depot, where Joe and Tubby had already coupled into the coach while waiting for them.

      The run down to the mouth of Animas Canyon was only about two miles. Joe made excellent time there. Once in the canyon, he proceeded more cautiously. Along here the shovel men had cleared the rails. Deep trenches through the slides showed where they had labored. Four miles of shoveled-out slides, and then Joe shut off his engine and drifted to a halt. Ahead of them was the first of the remaining masses of snow. Along here the track seemed to cling precariously to the side of an almost precipitous cliff. Above them for almost two thousand feet entended the steep side of the mountain. Below them almost the same distance was the drop to the icebound river.

      Over on his side of the cab Tubby whistled.

      “What’s the matter, Tubby?” shouted Joe, a grin on his lips, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

      “Jutht come over here an’ look down to the river!” exclaimed Tubby.

      Joe crossed the gangway and let his gaze drift below. Then he chuckled. “It’s a good drop, isn’t