Читать книгу Westy Martin on the Santa Fe Trail - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 8

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The porter had given them two calls and each time Westy and Rip dozed off again. Then when they were within ten minutes of their destination, Mr. Wilde had to pull the bed clothes off to get them up.

“What are you kids thinking of, anyhow? Do you think the railroad’s so kind-hearted as to allow their trains to stand at the station and give you time to leisurely dress before you get off. Railroads aren’t run that way. We’ll be in exactly nine minutes from now, so snap into it!”

When the two dilatory scouts collided over the same wash-basin four minutes later, the smoking room was filled with men talking loudly about a hold-up on the mail car the night before.

Mr. Wilde and Billy were discussing it with the porter who was excitedly reciting the full details to his listeners.

Westy and Rip, employing tooth-brushes with unusual diligence, gave one another a very significant look. About Westy’s right eye was the faintest suggestion of a wink. Three minutes later they were standing on the outer platform surrounded by their luggage and facing the door whose lever wouldn’t work the night before, in the interests of Fate.

They were all mighty glad to get out in the open again under blue skies and warm sunshine, the air redolent of sweet smelling earth, moist from the heavy rains.

Their outfit was there to meet them, a big high-powered car and a trailer with all the camp equipment. While Mr. Wilde and Billy conferred with the driver of the car, Westy and Rip watched the train take the curve like a flash, and disappear, leaving nothing but a curl of smoke in its wake.

An hour or so later, speeding along a modernly paved highway, the scouts listened intently to Billy as he repeated the hold-up story to the driver.

“It’s funny,” commented Mr. Wilde, occupying the back seat with the scouts, “that not one of the conductors or porters thought to investigate the cause of the train stopping so abruptly.”

“No,” replied Billy, “it wasn’t unusual at all, because the conductor on our car told me the train always stopped around there at that time to give Number Thirty the right of way. He said, of course, they hadn’t been in the habit of stopping right there exactly—about two miles further on was the usual place. The fact that they had used the emergency brake didn’t arouse any suspicion at first, on account of the storm. They thought perhaps the engineer had stopped on signal.”

“Well, how did he come to stop at all?”

“The bandits, of course. They gave him the signal and naturally he stopped quick. He had not taken his hand off the throttle before the gunmen covered him and also the fireman. The other two had overpowered the mail clerks by the time their pals joined them. The reason they marched the fireman and engineer along to the car was the fear of discovery and the desire to keep all their victims together. Then the one acted as lookout and he had just about made his rounds of the entire train thinking all was well, when these two unknown kids came up in back of him on the left side of the engine.

“He told it himself, afterward, that he was stricken dumb; never even heard them. Thought it was a couple of the conductors all along until they disarmed the whole bunch. Nervy kids all right, eh? Some thriller to have missed. Just my luck that I sleep so sound.”

“Who were the kids?” Mr. Wilde asked placidly.

“They don’t seem to know. During the excitement they must have slipped away unnoticed and no one was able to even give a good description of them. The conductor thought it might have been some one from the country around, but I doubt it on a stormy night like that.”

“The site of old Fort Zarah just ahead, sir!” the driver addressed Mr. Wilde.

“Whew!” Westy was thankful for that interruption. He was glad that he had been thoughtful enough to close the door when they sneaked back to the car. He wondered if Rip was thinking the same thing, so he very deftly nudged him in the ribs with his elbow and presently the nudge was fully returned. Then they rode along in silence for a while admiring the country’s beauty.

“Was any one hurt?” the driver inquired.

“No!” answered Billy pleasantly. “The fireman and engineer were pretty sore about the head. The bandits got real playful with them and knocked their heads a few times with the butts of the guns for getting a little balky. The engineer said that was the third time they’d been held up in the course of a few years. Three times is one time too many, eh?”

“I should say,” Mr. Wilde interrupted, and in the process of lighting another cigar, chuckled: “Quite a contrast in the type of these bandits from their predecessors of ’Forty-nine. They weren’t even considerate enough then to leave them with a sore head. They were so greedy they took scalp and all along home to remember their victims by, they thought so much of them. Then in after years when amusements were hard to find and time hung heavy on their hands, they could look at these rare mementos of a bright, hilarious past and shake venerable beards in gestures betokening their great longing for the return of the good old days, when scalps could be had for the asking. No, sir, I can’t for the life of me see what the engineer has to kick about at that. He ought to thank the present-day generation for turning out such nice, considerate gunmen.”

They went on, passing hamlet after hamlet, town after town, and back into the open prairie again. A perfect summer day!

“I’d like to go into Unk’s business,” Rip said suddenly, “when I get older.”

“How’s that?” answered Westy. “I thought you said you’d like to be a fireman on the A. T. and S. F!”

“I thought I would at first, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Aw, because they have to work nights sometimes!”