CHAPTER XXXIV
Caboose
SO GREAT is the power of money that it was not more than ten minutes before Rose was settled to rest in such comfort as the caboose on the end of the freight train afforded, while Alan and Barcus sat within its doorway and smoked, mutely speculating on the length of time that would elapse before the special train again appeared, and whether they dared hope its occupants would fail to notice the abandoned hand-car and draw the logical inference.
An hour passed without event, and evening drew its shades athwart the barren and inhospitable wastes of tumbled hills and arid plains. All seemed well, and no one aboard the freight suspected that, in the box-car next forward of the caboose, a woman in man's clothing lay perdue, chuckling impishly to herself in anticipation of the time and event she was biding with such patience as she could muster—time and event alike being hidden from her understanding.
Oh, most assuredly the time would come! Mark how events had already played into her hands, how Barcus had held her prisoner in the compartment long enough to permit her hurriedly to change from her proper dress to a suit of Marrophat's; how she had finally managed to wriggle out of the broken window without being injured; how her father had welcomed her and taken her donning that attire in earnest of her vow to him never again to weaken in the business he required of her; how the freight, pausing at the siding, had afforded her an opportunity to board it unseen—the very train upon which her enemies now rested in fancied security!
And already she had a plan …
Conning it, she hugged herself in malicious glee, blinding herself deliberately to the hideous business that might attend her success, forcing herself to remember one thing only—the pledge she had renewed on her knees to her father.
The whistle of a locomotive overtaking the freight sounded the signal for her to take action. Rising, she glanced out of the open door. A curve in the track below the freight, labouring slowly up a steep grade, enabled her to catch a glimpse of a headlight followed by a string of lighted windows—the special, beyond a doubt.
Without hesitation, since the train was not running at speed, she dropped out to the ballast, wheeled about, caught the hand-bar at the end of the box-car as it passed, and swung herself up between it and the caboose. Climbing to the top of the box-car, she peered through the gloaming and discerned two heads protruding from the windows of the special's engine, one on either side.
At a venture she snatched off her coat and waved it in the air. An arm answered the signal from one window of the pursuing locomotive.
Marrophat, of course!
She turned and peered ahead. The freight was approaching a trestle that spanned a wide and shallow gully. So much the better!
Dropping down again between the cars, she set herself to uncoupling the caboose. In this she was successful just as the last car rolled out on the trestle.
Its own impetus carried the caboose to the middle of the trestle before it stopped. As this happened, Alan and Barcus, already warned by the slowing down of the car, and alive to the fact that the special was in pursuit, leaped out upon the ties and helped Rose to alight.
Already the last of the freight was whisking off the trestle. And behind them the special was plunging forward at unabated speed. There was no time to reach either end of the trestle.
With common impulse the two men glanced down to the bottom of the gully, then looked at each other with eyes informed by common inspiration.
Barcus announced in a breath: "Thirty-feet, not more."
Alan replied: "Can you hold the weight of the two of us for half a minute?"
Barcus shrugged: "I can try. We might as well—even if I can't."
While speaking, he was lowering himself between the ties.
"All right," he announced briefly.
With a word to Rose, Alan slipped down beside Barcus, shifted his hold to the body of the latter, and climbed down over him until he was supported solely by the grasp of his two hands on Barcus's ankles. Instantly Rose followed him, slipping down over the two men till she in turn hung by her grasp on Alan's ankles. Then she released her hold and dropped the balance of the distance to the ground, a scant ten feet, landing without injury.
A thought later Alan dropped lightly at her side, staggered a trifle, recovered, and dragged her out of the way. Then Barcus fell heavily and went upon his back, but immediately picked himself up and joined the others in a scramble for safety.
Overhead the special engine struck the caboose with a crash like the explosion of a cannon. It collapsed like a thing of pasteboard, and a shower of timbers, splinters, and broken iron rained about the heads of the fugitives.
But the gods smiled upon them for their courage—they escaped without a scratch.