The Air Ship Boys | Page 2

is known as a "club" car. Half of the interior was bare and unfinished, like the compartment in which, on special and limited trains, baggage is carried. This part of the car, now exposed to view, was dimly lighted with one incandescent bulb. In the half-light it could be seen that the space was almost wholly filled with tanks, boxes, casks, crates and bundles, all systematically braced to prevent jarring or smashing. It was plainly not the luggage of ordinary travelers. Except for a narrow passageway in the center of the car and a space about five square next the open door, every inch, to the very ventilators of the car, was crowded with bound or crated, numbered and tagged packages. In the open space next the door Alan Hope now appeared.
"Coming yet?" he asked with apparent confidence as he peered outside.
The colored boy Elmer shook his head.
Just then the conductor returned and again his watch.
"Eight minutes," he said; "time's getting along and I've got to go back and see about my train. I don't want to make you nervous, but do you want us to take this car if fails to get here with the stuff?"
"I suppose there's no need," replied the military man, beginning to show irritation. "But there's eight minutes yet."
"I know," replied the conductor, "but after we are coupled up and it is time to leave we can't stop to cut this car out. We've got to have five minutes for that. At five minutes of eight you'll have to decide whether it is go or stay. I'm sorry--but you'll have to decide in a minute or two."
"Decide it now," interrupted Alan from the open car door. "We're going and he'll be here."
The Major appeared to be in doubt as to the wisdom of this, but before he could say anything Alan continued:
"Couple up whenever you want to, Mr. Conductor, we'll be ready," and he sprang out of the car, his face set with determination.
By that time the throbbing engine had silently moved up next the car and two grimy depot men with smoky torches had swung off the footboard to make the connections.
"Got to know," repeated the sympathetic conductor. "Only five minutes." He looked at the Major for the final word.
The latter peered down the long almost vacant platform. There was no one in sight but the late arrivals being helped aboard the cars in the far end of the station. Then he gave another look of appeal at his own watch as if in doubt what to say. To send a special car half way across the continent was no inexpensive project. And to send it without the person or the precious material that it was intended seemed not only a waste of money but foolish. Although the anxious man had both confidence and nerve it could be seen that he was in a quandary.
"Five minutes," exclaimed the railway official. "Does she go or stay?"
Before the man could answer, Alan faced him and with a hand on the Major's arm exclaimed:
"Ned will be here, he can't fail; tell him we're going."
The Major smiled. "That's it," he exclaimed suddenly. "Take her along. It's up to us to take care of ourselves."
"Good," said the conductor, "I hope he'll make it."
With a signal to couple on the engine he hurried away for a final inspection of his train.
For a moment the three persons left behind stood in silence. There was a hiss of the engine as it pushed the connecting blocks together and then those waiting so anxiously could hear the jar of connecting valves as the brake hose were snapped. Confident as Alan was, it gave him a sinking feeling. Then, as the swish of tests sounded and the gnome-like figures of the depot men crawled from under the car, the Major looked again at his watch in despair.
"Four minutes--"
Before he could say more Alan caught sight of a movement among those gathered around the last car at the far end of the depot.
"There he is!" he shouted and darted forward.
"He sho'ly is," exclaimed Elmer, his white teeth showing, "and Yar's de screw driver and yar's de screws all ready."
A slowly moving truck had carefully turned the end of the waiting train and, drawn by two baggage-room employees, was making its way along the platform. By its side walked a boy--a lad of about seventeen. One of his hands rested on the truck and his eyes were carefully fixed on the load it bore. This was a black, iron-bound case about four feet long, three feet deep and perhaps a yard in height. On each side in red letters were the words:
"Explosive; no fire." Beneath this ominous legend were two large iron handles.
When the men drawing the truck quickened their pace the boy spoke to them