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CHAPTER I
DISASTER

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A long, grinding shriek suddenly shattered the silence. Sparks flew as the groaning trucks slid to a standstill and for a moment the forward coach heaved in the center as if the engine would telescope it. And as the terrific impact threw Hal bodily out of his seat, he heard a significant roar from the direction of the rear coach. Horrible, muffled cries of trapped men mingled with the sounds of crashing, splintering wood and breaking glass. Then all was still.

Hal raised a sore and aching head from the hard, dusty floor and looked up and down the aisle. Things were all awry. Broken glass glittered on the twisted backs of seats while the wooden coach had resolved itself into a snake-like position with its forward and rear vestibules lying at distinct angles from the center of the car.

He grinned grimly and presently was aware of the conductor rising uncertainly from a pile of debris. The man thrust off a shattered arm rest that had been lying across his ankle, then felt of his cut and bleeding face.

Hal struggled to his feet. “You hurt, conductor?” he asked solicitously.

The man looked up, bewildered for a moment, then smiled. “Guess not,” said he with some effort. “Just cut and bruised like yourself. The others—where are they? I wonder....”

As if in answer to this query, three men rose ever so slowly from the litter at the rear of the car. One, a tall, slim young man, scrambled to his feet and chuckled. His brown eyes danced as he looked toward Hal.

“And I’m alive to tell the story,” he said whimsically.

“And how!” Hal agreed laughing. He experienced a feeling of relief that this ruddy-cheeked fellow passenger was apparently unhurt. It struck him as odd to feel such concern—the fellow was a comparative stranger. And as if to hide this solicitude, he added: “Your friends look kind of down though, huh?”

“Huh?” the young man returned, puzzled for a moment. Then with a nod of comprehension, he smiled at the two flashily dressed men at his elbow. “Well, buddies, are the old bones holding together? I guess they must be—you’re both standing on them pretty well. Atta boy, Perry, flick off the dust from that nice suit. You and Doyle look as if you saw ghosts.”

“Who wouldn’t!” muttered Perry, his dark countenance looking drawn and white.

“Yeh,” said the little man named Doyle, between chattering teeth, “that’s what I say, Todd!”

At this juncture, a disheveled looking creature crawled through the battered remnants of the forward vestibule and appeared before them. It was the engineer.

“Great Scott!” exclaimed the conductor. “You?”

“It’s me,” the engineer answered. “Fireman ain’t got but a few scratches and a broken leg, neither. I just turned my ankle. We jumped after I pulled the emergency. Do you notice that the rear coach ain’t with you?”

The conductor peered around. “Not down....”

“Down in the canyon,” interposed the engineer grimly. “Every mother’s son of ’em. How many passengers?”

“Six,” answered the conductor. “We’re all alive and on our feet in here—the five of us.”

“And you’re lucky!” the engineer murmured turning toward the door. “It’s more than those poor sons can say down there. C’mon, boys! There’s work to be done before dark!”

The conductor was fast on the heels of the engineer and Hal had turned to follow when the smiling, ruddy face of the young man appeared at his shoulder.

“Just a sec, big boy,” said he, lazily, “we’ll pair together, eh? Mr. Perry and Mr. Doyle will probably join us later. They’ve accumulated quite a lot of dust on their nice....”

“Aw, shut up, Mac!” Mr. Perry growled. “I ain’t got over the shock of this thing yet, that’s all. It ain’t that I’m frightened.”

“That’s what I say,” Mr. Doyle agreed, his teeth still chattering.

Ruddy-faced Mac took Hal’s arm cordially as they scrambled down to the ground. “Well, old top,” he said in an undertone, “I was frightened plenty. I’ll admit it. But there’s a difference; a fellow can be frightened white and a fellow can be frightened yellow. Perry and Doyle almost trampled me under in order to save themselves.”

“Oh, I understand,” said Hal. “They friends of yours, Mac?”

“No. Just met them at the junction, that’s all. We happen to have a common purpose up in this country—Perry and Doyle and myself. They seem to be all right except that they’re strong on self-preservation; every man for himself is their motto, I guess.”

“Looks like it,” Hal observed.

Perry’s deep mumble came to them. “Whew! I’m glad we’re out of that trap,” he was saying to Danny Doyle. “Now to get out of here as quick as we can.”

Hal wheeled around and glared down at the would-be shirker. “Not so fast with your plans, Mr. Perry,” said he emphatically. “We’re all working together down in that canyon and the quicker the better, huh?” he added, shaking his thick red hair vehemently.

Hal’s towering frame and broad shoulders overcame all objections. He stood, like a commanding young giant, even head and shoulders above tall Mac. Together, they waited until the two objectors had scrambled over the track where the engineer and conductor were waiting. A certain tilt of the suave Perry’s shoulder bespoke resentment.

“He’ll never forgive you for this, Red,” said Mac in a whisper. “I’ve got him all figured out. Kid him along but don’t tell him, that’s the kind he is.”

“There isn’t any time to kid even his kind,” Hal said indifferently. “I told him and I’ll tell him again if he shows any signs of backsliding. We don’t know what we’re going to be up against down there.”

The next moment they were standing with the others contemplating the grim disaster that hugged the stark, silent depths of the canyon.

The Copperhead Trail Mystery

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