Ralph on the Overland Express/14
CHAPTER XIV
A SERIOUS PLOT
"Who stopped this train—and why?"
Dreamily returning to consciousness, these were the first words that reached Ralph Fairbanks' rallying consciousness. They were spoken by the conductor of the accommodation train sharply. The locomotive was at a standstill, and, staring wonderingly, the conductor stood by the side of the tender.
"I did," answered a prompt voice, and removing his hand from the lever, the boy whom the young engineer had known as Marvin Clark drifted before his vision.
"Hello!" exclaimed the conductor, "I've seen you before. You're the fellow who caught the train at Riverton just as she left—had a free pass."
"Never mind me, Mr. Conductor," responded the other rapidly. "I'm thinking they need some attention," and he pointed to the fireman, lying doubled up in his seat, and then to Ralph, lying prone on the floor of the cab.
"Fairbanks—Fogg!" fairly shouted the conductor. "Why, what can this mean?"
"Foul play, if I'm a judge," spoke Clark definitely. "Fairbanks! Fairbanks!" he shouted, stooping over and lifting Ralph in his strong arms. "Here, brace him in his seat."
"Water!" gasped the young engineer in a choking tone. "My throat is on fire! What has happened?"
"Nothing alarming," answered Clark reassuringly, "only—I'm glad I happened to be here."
Ralph's mouth and throat seemed burning up. The water he drank only partially allayed his frantic thirst. It was with great difficulty that he could arouse himself from a lethargy that seemed to completely paralyze both body and mind. As the moments passed, however, he succeeded in rallying into something like normal. But as yet he was unable to fully understand just what had happened.
"He needs something to stimulate him," declared the conductor, and stepping into the cab he hastily ransacked the fireman's bunker. "Aha!"
His tones announced a discovery—likewise a suspicion. He had unearthed two flasks of liquor, one only partly filled.
"Not for me," said Ralph, waving back the conductor, who evidently was intent on administering a stimulant. "Liquor!" he cried, suddenly bracing up now. "Fogg never brought it aboard. It's some plot! Why!" he exclaimed, in sudden enlightenment, "I see it all, clear as day."
What Ralph saw, all hands in the cab soon realized within the ensuing ten minutes. When they had aroused Fogg, there followed animated theory, discovery and conviction. Not one of them doubted but that some enemy had sneaked aboard of the locomotive while it was sidetracked at noon at Riverton and had put some drug in the jar of coffee. They found a suspicious dark sediment at the bottom of the jar.
"Black Hands—mark it down," observed Fogg. "Whoever did it, also placed those flasks of liquor in my bunker. See the label on them? They come from a place in Riverton I never was in. The scoundrels aimed to have us found in the cab, just as we have been, and a report go in that the heat and too much liquor had crippled us from making the run."
"You've struck it, Fogg," assented the conductor. "Just stow that jar and those two flasks in a safe place. I'll have our special agent Adair, the road detective, find out who bought that liquor. No need of any blabbing to the general public. Are you able to complete the run, Fairbanks?"
"Certainly," reported Ralph, exercising arms and feet vigorously to restore their circulation. Fogg was still dazed and weak. He had drunk more of the coffee than Ralph. Besides, being the older of the two, he did not shake off the effects of the narcotic so readily as the young engineer.
"I'll help fire—I know how to," declared Clark.
"You know how to stop an engine, too!" commented the conductor. "All right, Fairbanks, when you're ready," and he returned to the coaches. Ralph extended his hand to Clark. The latter met his glance frankly.
"I've been trying to get track of your movements by telegraph," said Clark. "Located your run, and was waiting at Riverton for your train. Got there ahead of time, and came back to the depot just as 999 was pulling out, and caught the last car. First, I thought I'd not show myself until you got through with your trip. Things got dull in those humdrum coaches, though, and I sailed ahead to the tender, saw what was wrong, and checked up the locomotive just beyond the bridge. Say, if the draw had been open, we'd all have had a bath, eh?"
"The miscreants who played this diabolical trick ought to be severely punished," said Ralph.
There was no evidence of strained relations between the two boys. Ralph recognized that Clark had sought him out to make an explanation. He wondered what it would be. The present was not, however, the time to broach the subject. There was something very manly and reassuring in Clark's manner, and the young railroader believed that when he got ready to disclose his secret, the revelation would be an unusual and interesting one.
The train was started up, soon made up the lost time, and at 5:15 rolled into the depot at Stanley Junction. Ralph did not feel quite as well as usual and his fireman was pale and loggy, but the main effects of the drug had passed off.
"You go straight home, Mr. Fogg," directed Ralph. "I will see that 999 is put to bed all right."
"I think I'll take advantage of your kind offer, Fairbanks," responded Fogg. "I'm weak as a cat, and my head is going around like an electric turntable."
Fogg started for home. Clark rode with Ralph on the locomotive to the roundhouse. The big engine was put into her stall. Then the boys left the place.
"I have something to say to you, Fairbanks," began Clark.
"I suppose so," replied Ralph. "It must be quite a long story, though."
"It is," admitted his companion.
"Then suppose we leave its recital till we are rested a bit," suggested Ralph. "I want you to come up to the house and have supper. Then we'll adjourn to the garden and have a quiet, comfortable chat."
"That will be famous," declared Clark. "Say, you don't treat an imposter like myself courteous or anything, do you?"
"Are you really an imposter?" asked Ralph, with a faint smile.
"I am—and a rank one."
"Just one question—you are not the real Marvin Clark?"
"No more than yourself."
"And you are Fred Porter?"
"That's it."
"I thought so," said the young engineer.