The Young Train DispatcherStevenson, Burton Egbert
General
The Young Train Dispatcher
Stevenson, Burton Egbert
Railroad stories
"Stand aside," he said, and himself stood at one side of the mouth of the
tunnel. Then, grasping the ball by a piece of wire attached to it, he
struck a match, touched it to the cotton, and then hurled the ball with
all his force into the opening.
It seemed to Jack that there was a sort of quick throb in the air, a
sheet of flame shot out of the tunnel mouth, and an instant later a dull
rumbling came from within the hill.
Jed caught up a lantern, snapped back the covering of wire gauze which
protected the wick, and lighted it.
"Come on," he said. "It's safe for awhile now," and he led the way into
the cavern.
For a moment Jack could see nothing; then as his eyes grew accustomed to
the gloom, he discerned the black and dripping walls on either hand, and
the dark void before, into which Jed walked, swinging the lantern from
side to side.
But he did not go far. Fifty feet from the entrance, a pile of debris
blocked the way. Jed swung his lantern over it and inspected it.
"No use t' look any further in here," he said. "This stuff's been down a
long time. Let's go on to number two."
The second tunnel was about five hundred feet from the first one, and
resembled it exactly. But when Jed threw into it his blazing ball, there
was no explosion.
"Hello!" he said, in surprise, and then, bending down, he saw the ball
blazing brightly on the floor of the tunnel, some distance from the
entrance. "Why, that hole is ventilated as well as a house!" he added.
"Plenty of air there," and catching up the lantern, which he had not
extinguished, he started into the tunnel.
The air was fresh and pure, and Jed, looking about for an explanation,
was not long in finding it.
"Look up there," he said, pointing to where a glimmer of light showed
through the gloom above. "There's a flue up there--an accident, most
likely,--just a crack in the rock,--but it lets the gas out all right.
Why, a feller could live in here--By George!" he added, "some feller has
been livin' here. Look there."
Jack followed the motion of his finger, and saw, on the floor, a pile
of half-burned coal. Over it was a bent piece of iron which had been
driven into the floor and evidently served as a crane. A pot and a couple
of pans lay near the base of one of the pillars which had been left to
support the roof.
"And they was more than one," Jed continued, and pointed to four lumps
of coal grouped around the central pile. "They used them to set on. It's
dollars to doughnuts here's where th' gang stayed till they was ready t'
spring their trap. Th' question is, are they here yet?"
"You kin bet your life they ain't," answered Jack, confidently.
"'Cause why?"
"'Cause we're here t' tell th' tale. If they was here, they'd 'a' picked
us off ten minutes ago. Think what purty marks we made."
"Mebbe they thought they was a posse with us."
"Well, they don't think so now, an' they ain't shot us yet."
Jed nodded and moved forward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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