Frontier Boys in Frisco
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"And half a ton of coal," said the fireman, as he bent his back to the
work of shoveling, looking for all the world like a black gnome.
"I wonder what has happened to the passengers," said Jim to the
engineer; "there seemed to be a lot going on back there the last five
minutes of the fight."
"I can't slow up, Jim," responded the engineer, "because we have got to
make that siding."
"I don't expect you to, Bob," replied Jim, "I'll go over the roofs. I
can make it if those open air burglars did."
"It's durn risky," warned the engineer; "we are speeding now, and the
train is twisting so it will sure throw you on some of the curves."
"I've ridden a few bronchos in my time," declared Jim, "and been aloft
in some heavy seas and I guess I can manage this."
Self-confidence is all right but pride often goes before destruction and
Jim came very near getting his on this occasion.
"And where do you think you are going, lad?" asked Bill Sheehan, as Jim
started on his climb over the tender.
"I'm going back to see how many of the passengers have been scared to
death and why some of those guys in the sleepers didn't turn out and
help us to fight off those bandits back there."
"Oh, them are tenderfeet from way back the other side of the range, they
was too busy hiding behind their women folks to fight," declared the
fireman, "but you ain't going on no such trip young feller." He made a
dive for Jim but that worthy was not to be detained and was half way up
the little iron ladder before Bill Sheehan had recovered his balance.
"Come back," he cried, poising a bit of coal in his hand, "or I'll
bring you back." This bluff did not disturb Jim who was now on top of
the baggage car.
"Just like a young limb," he muttered, as he watched the daring James.
"I'd have done the same twenty years ago."
Jim crawled or sneaked his way along the elevated part of the roof, so
that he could clutch one side or the other in case of need. The train
was now winding through a narrow gulch in a line of hills and a fierce
wind tore at his body as though trying to fling him loose. He felt that
it was more than he had bargained for, as the grimy roof slipped this
way and that under him, then there came a sudden lurch and he was lifted
clear off the top of the car and one hand was wrenched loose, and in a
second his feet were hanging over the side.
His other hand caught the steel rod that opens one of the small windows
in the elevated roof of the car. Would it hold? On its strength depended
his only chance of life. He drew himself up slowly with every ounce of
his strength. The rod bent but held and once more he was back on the
roof. So he took his perilous way along and at last he reached the
foreward coach. The door was guarded and he came near being shot by the
suspicious conductor, who took him for one of the bandits.
CHAPTER IV
THE GIRL AND THE ENGINEER
Indeed Jim's appearance was much against him. He was covered with dirt
and grime and coal dust. It was only by holding his ticket against the
pane of glass in the door of the coach, that the conductor was made
willing to admit him. But when he was informed who Jim was he treated
him with due respect and even cordiality. That was pretty good for a
conductor in those days.
Jim was an object of interest as he passed through the coach. He might
have blushed at finding himself a hero, but if so he was perfectly
disguised by his temporary color, which was decidedly dusky.
"Oh, Mamma," cried a youngster, "I'm afraid of that big black man. Will
he steal me!"
"Nonsense, Willie, that's the nice, kind gentleman, who gave you some
candy at the station yesterday." Jim laughed and the only show of white
about him was his teeth. "I don't blame the little chap for being
scared," he said, "I'm a bad looking object for a fact."
"You ought to have seen three of those fellows jump," remarked Mr.
Conductor, as they went on their way through the train; "that was when
Bob opened up. I guess one of 'em was badly shook up by the way he lit."
"I saw them take their flying leap," returned Jim, "but was anybody hurt
back here?"
"The brakeman got it in the shoulder," replied the conductor, "but I
guess he will be all right. Have to take a lay-off for some weeks."
"It's curious how many bullets are fired without hurting anybody,"
remarked Jim, "but I've noticed that before."
The conductor looked at the tall young fellow keenly for a moment.
"I reckon you are no tenderfoot," he asserted.
"Right there!" replied Jim; "that is if experience counts. But I was
born in the East."
"You can't help that," remarked the conductor, to Jim's amusement; "you
would have laughed to see them fellows lying close to the floor of the
car, when the shooting was going on. It ain't a dignified sight to see a
round fat man trying to make himself small by lying as flat as
possible."
"I can't blame them," replied Jim; "I would have been trying the same
maneuver if I had been there."
"No, you wouldn't," contradicted the Taker of Tickets; "you would have
been busy trying to get a line on some of the gents who were kicking up
a ruction outside.
"Maybe," said Jim doubtfully.
When they entered the first Pullman, Jim was in the lead and at the
sight of a tall, blackened-looking individual entering through the plush
portieres into the main body of the car several of the women shrieked,
and two stout gentlemen dived down between the seats.
"Conductor!" they yelled; "Conductor! help!"
Jim was greatly embarrassed by this reception, and started to back out
hastily, but was stopped by the rotund figure of the greatly in demand
conductor.
"Ha! ha!" he roared. "Ladies and gentlemen don't be frightened. This
young man is no desperado, but he has been fighting them off down in
front on the engine during the late hold up."
Slowly like twin round moons rose the faces of the two stout men from
opposite sections.
"I say, Conductor," remarked one of them who was an Englishman, "this is
a jolly shame. Can't we travel in peace in this beastly country? Always
some bally ructions going on, don't yer know."
The conductor's answer was rather abrupt for he did not fancy the
Englishman's style of speech, and that testy individual was more upset
than ever. Jim went quickly to his section, got a change of clothing,
retired to the wash room and proceeded to get thoroughly cleaned up.
This was quite an operation, undertaken in the presence of two drummers
who were smoking and talking in bragging tones of what they had done
during the recent fight. Jim was too busy to pay any attention to their
talk until one of them addressed him directly.
"Where was you, young fellow, when we was held up back there?"
questioned one.
"I was forward," replied Jim shortly. He did not take especially to
either of the two men.
"Bet you were hiding under the trucks," asserted the other. Jim did not
know whether to laugh, or to throw the fellow out of the window. He had
not noticed the conductor who was standing in the passageway, but that
worthy had overheard the remark.
"Who did you say hid under the trucks?" he inquired belligerently. The
man addressed feebly indicated Jim, then the conductor lit into the
fellow for fair.
"You trying to run that young fellow? Why if he took the notion into his
head, he could turn you up simultaneous and paddle whack both of you.
Why you ain't nothing but--" however, I draw a veil over this part of
the harangue.
Jim laughed good-naturedly but said nothing.
After the conductor had left, the men took the opposite tack and were
very fulsome in their praise of Jim. Wanted him to drink with them and
all that sort of cheap comradeship, but he would have none of their game
and got out as soon as he could.
At the first stop the train made, James went forward to join his two
friends on the engine.
"And who may you be?" queried the fireman; "you look very much like the
Vice-president of this railroad instead of the tramp I saw some hours
agone trying to ride the blind baggage."
"I've got my face washed, Bill, and a fresh shirt to my back and my
moccasins polished if that is what you are aiming at," replied Jim good
humoredly.
"I must say, Jim, it gave me a scare when I saw you swing over the edge
of the car, but it was no use for me to try and slow up then, besides I
had time to make up, and the engineer can't stop for his best friend
then. But I must say you have a cast-iron nerve."
"I felt scared," admitted Jim frankly.
"You had reason to," remarked Bill Sheehan.
"All aboard, boys," cried the engineer. "I see the conductor is waving
us to go on. You take Bill's side of the cab and watch me drive her into
the Junction. That's my terminus and we will have breakfast together."
"Wish you were going to the coast with me, Bob," remarked Jim. "I'm in
for some trouble there I'm afraid, and you are the chap I should want to
back me up, and that's solid."
"I'd take you up in a minute, Jim," then he lowered his voice, "but you
see there's a girl at the Junction and we are to be married next month."
Jim gave his friend a hearty slap on his broad back.
"Glad to hear it, Bob, old boy, and may it be a lucky go for both of
you."
"Thanks, Jim," replied Ketchel, and there was a dubious moisture in his
eyes, which vanished in a second, as he watched keenly the road ahead.
Jim always remembered the ride into the Junction. The moonlight had
faded from the sky and the fuller, keener daylight was creeping in to
take its place. The train was now puffing along just below timber line,
and in the west was a semi-circle of snowy peaks, rugged, superb,
symmetrical, with the tint of dawn gilding their summits.
On the mountains through which the train was passing were great patches
of snow. The air had that marvelous clearness that Jim knew so well and
his eyes sparkled, as he breathed it in deeply. Just as the sun came up
he saw below at a distance of several miles, in a snow lined basin in
the hills, the dark patch of the Junction. As they neared it, Jim's keen
eye saw the figure of a girl standing on the porch of a small white
cottage. There was something very attractive about the young figure
standing there, with the color of health in her face, and a look of
fervor in her eyes. A signal passed between the engineer and the girl
and then the train roared on towards the station.
"I don't blame you for not wanting to go to California, Bob," said Jim.
The engineer smiled good-naturedly but was content to let Jim's surmise
go unconfirmed.
"The boss is shure done for," interrupted the fireman; "he won't be the
same high spirited man in a few years he is now. It's all very tempting,
but it's like tolling an ox to get his neck under the yoke. It's a
terrible thing to see a young fellow like him bent on taking
responsibilities he don't know the heft of." Ketchel only grinned at
Bill Sheehan's doleful prophecy for he knew the root of it, as the
fireman's wife was something of a termagant and the sound of her
scoldings had reached other ears than Bill's.
Now came the whistle for the Junction, and the train slowed to a halt on
a long level platform on which lay a six-inch carpet of dazzling snow.
CHAPTER V
THE MENU
That morning always stood out in Jim's memory, not because of any
unusual adventure, nor because it marked any period in his young
existence, but simply that he felt full of the exuberance of life, after
the night's adventure; the very air was intoxicating. That, by the way,
was the only intoxicant James ever took. He was glad to be with his old
friend, Bob Ketchel, even for a short time.
Then, too, there was the certainty of immediate events of interest as
soon as he reached San Francisco, and he felt confident that he could
meet whatever might come. His past experiences had taught him
self-reliance and he thrilled to the sense of coming adventures. But the
fact that he was soon to enjoy a good breakfast had something to do with
his feeling of contentment. Besides, he and the engineer were objects of
interest in this little mountain settlement, for the story of the
attempted hold up was soon common property, and the two were the
observed of all observers. This is not unpleasant, as many a schoolboy
hero of the football field or track knows right well.
In about fifteen minutes' time Jim and the engineer were seated at a
pleasant looking table in a sunny corner of the dining-room, with the
whitest of cloths and everything about the table neat and attractive. It
was not at all like the Wild West, and it is at the eating stations that
whatever of luxury or comfort there is in this wild country is
concentrated.
There was a hearty menu of several kinds of meats and gravies, fried
potatoes in abundance, excellent coffee in large cups, and smoking
plates of griddle cakes with plenty of syrup. Jim ate with an appetite
derived from a long fast, and plenty of exercise. The reader can vouch
as to the amount of exercise that James had undergone in the past few
hours. The dining-room was full of tourists at the different tables, and
it was a lively and animated scene. The events of the previous night
were the general subject of discussion and Jim was fully aware that he
was being talked about. But he was a well balanced chap, and was not the
least "swelled" by the notice taken of him.
He and the engineer had a good time telling each other of the adventures
that had come their way during the years since they last met. Jim could
tell his friend of their wonderful trip into Mexico, the excursion into
Hawaii, and what occurred in the Hollow Mountain, likewise of their
encounter with Captain Broome, that booming old pirate whose splendid
yacht they had seized after a struggle that required strategy as well as
bravery. However, Captain Broome was not through with Jim as we shall
soon see.
"Well, Jim," said Ketchel finally, as he pushed his chair back from the
table, and took a quick look at his watch, "the train you pass here is
due in ten minutes and then you will be pulling out. Let's go outside;
it's a bit too warm in here to suit me."
"All right, Bob, the fresh air will seem good to both of us."
As they stopped at the office just outside the dining-room door, there
was a moment's friendly rivalry to see who should settle for the
breakfast but Ketchel winked at the clerk behind the circular counter
with its usual cigar case, and porcupine arrangement of toothpicks. "His
money is no good, Sam," he asserted, "when he's traveling in my
company."
"You're the judge, Bob," said the clerk. "I hear you and your friend
were held up in Bear Valley last night, together with the train you
were toting along. How about it?"
"I'll tell you later, Sam. Jim here is leaving on No. 7 and we are old
pals and have got some talking yet."
"I see!" acquiesced Sam. "Good luck to you," and he nodded good
humoredly to Jim. The two friends went out into the crisp, clear air.
The snow crunched under their feet as they paced along the platform, and
the elixir of the atmosphere made every bit of them tingle with its
vivacity and life.
Jim's eyes sparkled and his face was ruddy with the glow of healthy
blood in the cold air. He took in the scene about him with an
appreciative eye for he truely loved the West and was at home in it. He
noted the white smoke rising into the clear cold from the chimneys of
the little settlement, the encircling hills of the basin where it lay,
all of a crystalline whiteness and the sky as blue, as the snow was
white, with an intensity all its own. The fresh engine was backing down
to the train as the two friends made the second turn on the platform.
"I'll introduce you, Jim, to the fellow who runs this engine."
The new engineer was a short and very solid man of quiet demeanor; he
looked Jim over thoroughly in a brief moment.
"Glad to know you, Darlington. Hear you had a run-in with that Bear
Valley gang, Bob. Stole the pilot off your engine, eh?" And the engineer
gave a silent laugh that shook his whole system.
"You notice we came in on time, Joe," said Ketchel, briefly.
"If we are going to pull out on time, we'll have to start now. Anything
I can do for your friend, Bob?"
"Yes," returned Ketchel, "give him a ride through the Red Canyon."
"I will," replied Joe as he climbed into his engine and the train slowly
got under way.
"Good-by, Jim," said Ketchel, as they gripped hands; "take care of
yourself."
"The best luck to you and the Missus, Bob," cried Jim as he swung onto
the train, that was now gathering speed and soon the settlement was left
behind as the cars swayed through a narrow passage in the encircling
hills.
Jim slept during the morning hours and nothing of peculiar interest
happened on the day's trip, though Jim enjoyed every minute of it,
especially the ride on the locomotive through Red Canyon, with its
walls rising for several thousands of feet in breathless grandeur.
Gazing from above, the train must have appeared like a worm crawling
along the base of the cliffs.
Twenty-four hours later the huge rounded bulk of the Sierra Nevada
loomed dead ahead. When the train came to a halt at a small station at
the foot of the range, Jim got out as usual to take a walk up and down
the platform. He saw a small box in front of the station supported on a
larger one with a curtain in front of it. Upon the lower box was
inscribed the legend, "The Famous Rocky Mountain Bat."
Jim was naturally interested in all fauna. (Note the word, youthful
reader, and look it up in the dictionary.) So he sauntered up to the
cage and lifting the cheap red curtain looked in. What he saw made him
gasp for a second, but he did not run, his native courage standing him
in good stead. Upon a rich green cloth of Irish hue, was an ordinary red
brick.
There was a number of the inhabitants leaning against the side of the
depot, waiting for just such an occasion as this. They went into
paroxysms of laughter, clasping their knees, or beating each other on
the back, and their mouths were opened wide enough to have swallowed
the aforesaid Bat (Brick). Jim felt like a fool and a strong inclination
welled up within him to punch one of these border humorists, but he put
the brakes on his temper and thus kept from sliding any further down
grade.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he drew forth not his trusty revolver,
but a small diary with a red cover and a dainty ivory knobbed pencil in
the small sheath. Dost thou remember, honored reader, when thou hadst
one of them given thee to keep the record of thy important life? I bet
thou dustest. Perhaps, for ten successive days were daily jottings put
down; if very persistent perchance fifteen days were recorded and then
you quit. Carried away in the rushing course of events, the little diary
was left to wither on the shores of Time.
While this stuff has been recited Jim made a careful drawing of the
brick which he annotated with proper data, keeping all the time an
imperturbable face under the very pointed jibes of the station loungers.
His work in the interests of Science being finished he stepped over to
the place of the scorners, and planting himself squarely in front of the
most boisterous of the group, began calmly to make a sketch of this
wide-mouthed individual. Instantly the fellow's face grew sober, and the
crowd ready for any kind of fun began to jeer him.
This made the man angry and he made a bull-like rush for Jim, who was
not prepared for this maneuver and he was thrown from his balance,
striking with considerable force upon the station platform.
CHAPTER VI
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
The crowd, which was a good-natured one, gathered around cheering its
champion and laughing at Jim's fall. But James was thoroughly aroused by
the fall, which had added insult to an injury, and exerting part of his
unusual strength he struggled to his feet, and caught his opponent at
arms' length from him, and then turning him over gave him a few hearty
spanks while the crowd roared.
Naturally the man was furious when Jim turned him loose with a shove
that sent him staggering back for a number of feet, and he picked up a
good sized rock. He came on to demolish Jim with it, but some of his
comrades collared him so that he could not do any mischief and the
attention of the crowd was diverted to some more visitors to the shrine
of the wonderful Rocky Mountain Bat. One was a tall and angular
Englishman dressed in some rough looking suiting and his good lady who
had on a long ulster and a hat with a green veil accompanied him.
"Aw, and what is that?" he questioned, standing and looking at the
curtained box.
"Why, Charles, it says on the box, that it contains 'The famous Rocky
Mountain Bat,'" said his wife with a show of her prominent teeth.
"Bah Jove, we'll have a look into that."
They did and viewed it with closer and closer scrutiny.
"Why d'ye know the beast has escaped. That bit of brick wouldn't hold
him. I daresay the villagers will be surprised when they find it has
gone."
"It certainly is astonishing," exclaimed the lady. "Do you suppose it
can be a joke?"
"Impossible. How quite absurd you are."
Jim who was standing near by looking on with deepest interest, grinned
audibly while the overwrought "villagers" could stand no more. They
regarded the Englishman solemnly, shook their heads sadly and adjourned
to the nearest public house, to discuss the awful density of some
foreigners.
"Most extraordinary people," commented the Englishman; "sometimes
awfully jolly, and then take to drink because they lose something like a
bloomin' bat."
Jim moved away lest he, too, should be driven to drink. He walked
towards the train, which was due to start in a short time, taking no
notice of anyone. But there was one individual who was keeping an eye
on Jim. He had been standing in front of a saloon just across from the
station watching all that was going on.
This man was short like a dwarf, and was evidently a Mexican, and the
proud possessor of one glass eye. But his other eye was fixed upon the
tall young fellow in the blue suit, and the dark sombrero. When Jim was
safely on the sleeper, the Mexican did not attempt to follow him but
went into the smoker, and puffed at a cigarette; meantime he was doing
some thinking and planning.
Jim was soon to find that his old pirate friend, Captain Bill Broome,
had a long arm. A dry word of explanation is necessary here. Frontier
Boys on the Coast served to introduce this redoubtable man to the
readers of this series. The Frontier Boys though badly beaten by the
captain at first, finally under the leadership of Jim, out-maneuvered
him and captured his ship.
The Mexican who was watching Jim was one of Bill Broome's trusted
agents, and the most vicious, if not the most skillful that he made use
of in his nefarious business. Jim might have recognized him, though he
was much changed by a short, curly black beard that he had purposely
allowed to grow and which did not make his personal appearance the more
attractive.
However, Jim did not dream of anyone being on his trail at such a
distance from San Francisco, though he knew from the letter that he
carried that there was trouble to be expected when he arrived there. But
for the present he was just content to take things easy and to enjoy his
trip, which he was certainly doing. Moreover, Jim was naturally of a
frank and straightforward nature and unsuspicious, unless something put
him on his guard and then he was not to be easily fooled.
How was it that Captain Broome knew of Jim's exact whereabouts. He was
certainly not a confidante in regard to his plans and had no direct
means of knowing that James was on his way West. The explanation is
simple enough. The news of the train robbery or rather the attempt at it
was telegraphed to San Francisco and printed in the usual flamboyant
style.
True, Jim's name appeared in the account as Mr. James Damington, but
that was pretty accurate for a newspaper and a brief reference to some
of his former exploits made identification very simple to the shrewd
eyes of old Bill Broome, who was naturally interested in an account of
a robbery even if he did not have a hand in it. It was evident that Jim
was likely to become as famous as Kit Carson, who performed many of his
wonderful exploits by the time that he was seventeen. So it behoves
James to be careful. No sooner did Captain Broome's eagle eye see this
plum of information about "Mr. Damington," whom he heartily hated, than
he set things in motion by sending his greaser scout, with certain
specific instructions, to meet and trail Jim.
Once Jim passed through the smoker, but the Mexican pretended to be fast
asleep with his hat pulled well down and his head half buried in his
overcoat. Jim noticed the reclining figure casually, but thought no more
about the man, though his interest might have been aroused if he had
chanced to turn quickly for the desperado had raised his head with the
quickness of a rattlesnake and his beady eye was fixed with malevolent
intentness on Jim's every movement.
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