Mystery Rides the Rails. Gilbert A. Lathrop

      “HIT HER HARD!”

      JOE stood idly by while the gang of men faced the first slide. Then he beckoned them all to proceed ahead to the next obstruction, while he backed the little engine far up the track. Here he halted and had the coach cut off.

      This done, Joe looked across the boiler at his companion. “What do you say, Tubby?” he called.

      “I thay go ahead, and hit her hard!” called Tubby, his round face rosy, and his eyes sparkling with excitement.

      “Get where you can jump off if she shows any symptoms of leaving the track,” warned Joe, as he gently opened the throttle.

      The little engine snorted to a start. Her chopping exhausts grew closer together and droned into a steady roar. She rocked and rolled over the uneven track, took a long curve with a nerve-wracking side thrust, then she was into the snowslide. An abrupt slowing down, a white stream of heavy, blanketing snow rolled over the top of the wedge plow and came back along the running board to pile up before the front cab windows. A blinding fog obscured every object in the cab. Joe snapped his throttle closed, reversed his charge, and came roaring back out of the slide.

      He halted a few feet away from it to see how much they had accomplished. Then his face broke into a grin of delight.

      “We went over half way through that time, Tubby!” he shouted, gleefully.

      Tubby nodded. He was mopping at his round face with a blue bandana handkerchief, and he appeared more rosy than ever, but there was no trace of fear in his eyes as he looked across at his partner.

      “One more try at it, and we’ll be through,” called Joe. He opened the throttle again, and moved up the track to take another run.

      They hit it the second time. Again they felt the blow as their little engine rammed into the obstruction, and felt her slowing down as she forced the cutting edge of the plow into hard-packed whiteness.

      Then they were through! The first of the slides had been bucked out.

      Both of them tingled with excitement, and both of them were grinning broadly as they backed up while they waited for the gang of men to face the next slide.

      All forenoon they battered at the obstructions. Some of them were thrown out in one try; others were longer and deeper, taking many trials before they were removed. Through it all the little engine rode the rails as if she were glued to them, and she performed like a perfect piece of mechanism.

      A short halt for lunch, and then they resumed their task. All afternoon they hammered at the slides. Night found them almost a half mile from where they had started that forenoon. Only a half mile of slides remained to be bucked out.

      Joe backed up to the coach, coupled into it, and shoved it back to Silver Town again. They left the coach in front of the depot, then put the engine in the engine house so she could have any necessary work done on her, as well as be coaled and watered for the morrow. Then they made their way over to the office of Mr. Orest.

      They found the owner of the little railroad bending over his desk, a pile of papers before him. He was writing rapidly as they entered, and he continued at this for some minutes while the two stood waiting for him to look up.

      “How did you do, today?” asked Mr. Orest, at last.

      Joe explained rapidly.

      Mr. Orest smiled, and then his face grew sober again. “The agreement was that you lads would be given regular jobs as engineer and fireman if you were able to open up the line, wasn’t it?” he asked, abruptly.

      “Yes, sir,” said Joe. “That was the agreement.”

      Mr. Orest leaned forward on his chair. His face was very sober. “Would a cash settlement suit you as well?” he suddenly demanded.

      Joe looked at Tubby, and Tubby looked at Joe. They stood for a space as though trying to read each other’s minds. Then Joe turned back to Mr. Orest.

      “We don’t care anything about the money, Mr. Orest,” he said, quietly. “We really wanted steady work on your railroad.”

      “I know,” agreed the owner, “but if I give you steady work I’ll be forced to let Anson Weird and his fireman go, to make room for you. Anson Weird is a brother-in-law to the president of the Silver Town National Bank, and the president holds a mortgage on my railroad, which falls due in ninety days. If I am unable to meet that mortgage, I stand to be foreclosed.”

      Joe pursed his lips and whistled. “So that’s the way it lays, is it?” he finally asked.

      Mr. Orest nodded.

      Joe brightened. “But with the line opened so the concentrates can be moved, you will have some revenue coming in again, and you can meet the mortgage, can’t you?” he asked, eagerly.

      “The mortgage is slightly over eleven thousand dollars. The revenue from the railroad in that time will only figure a little over that amount, and out of that I must pay wages, and other maintenance charges.”

      Joe nodded again. “We wouldn’t want to beat anyone out of work, anyhow,” he decided, in a low voice.

      Mr. Orest got to his feet. “That doesn’t matter at all. This engineer, Anson Weird, and his fireman are utterly incompetent. They do not take the slightest interest in their work. Both of them flatly refused to try to buck out those slides. Neither of them has seemed to care whether the road was opened up or not. I have paid them their wages just as though they were working every day, and they do not appreciate it enough to even come down to the depot occasionally to find out what we are doing. In fact,” and his voice grew hard, “the engineer made the remark that he hoped I wouldn’t be able to open the line until this summer, so he wouldn’t have to go to work until then!”

      “Heth not a very loyal employee,” said Tubby.

      Mr. Orest shook his head in agreement. “Somehow it got out that I have promised you two lads regular jobs if you were able to open up the line for me. Today the president of the bank made it a point to come down and see me. He told me that no extension of the mortgage would be considered if I let his brother-in-law and his fireman go, to make room for you.”

      Joe nodded. His face had wreathed in a broad grin again. He raised his hand and rubbed at his chin for a space. Then he advanced a step toward Mr. Orest.

      “Among other things, you hired me because I told you I was a trouble doctor, didn’t you?” he asked softly.

      Mr. Orest smiled and nodded.

      “Then I’d like to take on the job of helping you have the money to pay off that mortgage when it falls due! If, as you say, the two men who have been running your engine are not the right kind of employees, there is no use in your keeping them. Maybe you could give them a little work as extra men.”

      Mr.