CHAPTER XXVII.
SISTER MARTHA AVERTS A CALAMITY.
When the tidings of the murder of Gorman Purdy reach the mines, the rejoicing of the miners and their families is undisguised. They feel that an avenging hand has been raised against the man who has caused them so many days of suffering.
"The devil has a new recruit," says a brawny miner.
"Hell is too good for a man like Purdy," another declares.
In all of Wilkes-Barre not a man or a woman except those who live under the Coal King's roof has a word of pity to express.
Sister Martha is silent; she feels shocked at the news; yet even in her heart there is no room for sympathy for the Magnate. The thought comes to her that Ethel will need comforting. Ethel Purdy is the woman who eclipsed Sister Martha in Harvey's mind. It is not to be supposed that Martha has forgotten this; yet it does not deter her from hastening to the place. She finds Ethel on the verge of hysteria.
Under the soothing influence of the Sister of Charity, Ethel's composure is restored.
"What is to become of me?" she asks, despairingly. "How am I to face the world? I have wealth; but will it restore my father?"
"Have faith, my dear, and you will find your troubles lightened."
Martha prays with the late Magnate's daughter. They are on their knees in the sumptuous bed-room of Ethel's suite when a servant abruptly enters.
"O, Miss Purdy, run for your life," cries the maid. "The miners are coming to burn the house."
Ethel utters a cry of terror.
"Leave the room!" sister Martha orders. And the frightened servant retires.
"Do not feel alarmed. I shall stay here and the miners will do you no injury. They love me and will obey me."
Ethel clasps the hand of her defender and crouches at her feet. A knock at the door startles the two women. Sister Martha remains in possession of her faculties; Ethel swoons.
"Come in," calls Sister Martha.
The butler enters.
"I have come to inform you that the miners are on their way to the house. They have sworn to sack it. What shall we do?"
"Who told you that the miners intend to come here?"
"I have just received the warning from the office; one of the clerks telephoned. He says the Superintendent is on his way here, but will probably be cut off."
Fear has anticipated the actual trend which events are to take. The miners are parading the streets but have not formulated any definite plan to attack the Purdy palace.
Superintendent Judson arrives and assumes charge of the house. He brings definite news of the intention of the miners. They are bent on claiming the body of Carl Metz to give it a public funeral. "We shall never be able to prevent violence," he declares.
"The police and the militia have been summoned; but it will be hours before they arrive."
"If there was some one here who could pacify the mob until the troops come; there is no one they will heed."
"Perhaps I can pacify them," suggests Sister Martha.
"You can try," says the Superintendent, scrutinizing her closely. "You are known as the friend of the miners; they may respect your wishes."
Inwardly he doubts her ability to check the mob; he feels, even, that she may meet with physical violence at their hands. Yet his nature is so small that he is eager to sacrifice her if it will keep the miners at bay for an hour.
"I shall try to keep them in the town," Sister Martha assures him as she departs. On reaching the centre of the town Sister Martha meets some of the miner folk. A woman comes up to her and whispers:
"They have sent for the police. The work will be done before they get here."
"What work?"
"Why, we are going to give Metz a decent funeral. He died for us. He said in a letter,—died to set us free from Purdy."
"When are you going to demand the body?"
"This evening when the mines and shops close. We will all get together and then the sheriff can't stop us."
An inspiration comes to Martha. She hurries to a telegraph station, and sends the message to Trueman calling him to Wilkes-Barre.
"If he only gets here before the police or the troops, he can prevent trouble," is the thought that consoles her. The hour that passes before she receives word that he will arrive on the Keystone Express, seems an eternity.
With the knowledge that Trueman will arrive at five o'clock she breathes a sigh of relief. Again she mingles with the crowds which fill the streets. Here and there she goes, begging of the men and women to refrain from doing anything that they will regret later.
The afternoon wears on, and as rumors float through the town that the
Governor has called out the State Guard, the excitement increases.
At four o'clock Sister Martha hears that the miners have determined to wreck the express, as it is bringing the Coal and Iron Police.
This news appalls her. Can she tell them that Trueman is on this train, and hope to have his arrival effective? No. He must come unexpectedly.
The plot to wreck the train must be defeated.
She hurries to the house of one of the miners who she knows will be in sympathy with any movement that has for its object the destruction of the Police. His two sons were shot at the Massacre of Hazleton. One of the young men died from the effects of his wounds. The other is a confirmed invalid.
On reaching the miner's cottage, Sister Martha finds that her intuition is correct. Henry Osling is telling his son the plan of vengeance.
"We will wipe out the old score to-night," he is saying. "When the express starts up the grade, we will send a ton of Paradise Powder down to meet it."
"How will it explode?" asks the son.
"How? Why, by the collision with the engine."
"But it may not go off," suggests the invalid. "You had better make sure by using dynamite. No! that won't do either.
"Use nitro. You can get it from the Horton shaft. They have to use it there to blast the slate."
"That's what we'll do, 'sonny.' Just lie still 'til you hear the bang, then you can get up and dance, for the Police will be blown to pieces."
Sister Martha waits for no further details. Her plan of action is decided upon. She knows every foot of ground in the mountains. A short cut will bring her to the home of Widow Braun. This woman will do anything in the world for Harvey Trueman. She will help Sister Martha to save the train; for by so doing she will save Trueman's life.
The widow is at home. In a few words Martha tells her what she must do if she would save the life of the men who rescued her boy and herself from the sheriff.
"Do you have to ask me twice to help you?" cries the woman. "I would lie down on the track and let the cars run over me if it would protect Mr. Trueman."
Martha and her ally start for the long grade. On the way they discuss the manner in which they may derail the car with the nitro-glycerine.
"We will put rocks on the track," suggests Sister Martha. "But the miners will see us;" objects the widow, "it won't be dark when the train arrives."
"I heard the miners say the train would be late. A freight was off the track east of Mathews and the wrecking crew was at work," Martha goes on to explain.
When the rescuers arrive at the track they realize that in their haste they have neglected to bring a lantern, the one thing that may be needed to signal the train, for now a dilemma confronts them. If they place a pile of rocks on the track, the train may reach that point before the car of destruction, and in this event the obstruction will cause the wrecking of the train.
The roadway is along the side of the mountain.
On one side of the tracks the rocks rise in a sheer wall; on the other is a steep embankment that in places is almost as precipitous as the crags above.
"We will have to separate," Martha advises. "You go up the track. No, I will go up and you down. If it is possible, you must stop the train. I will wait till the last moment and then put rocks on the track. When you see Mr. Trueman, tell him to hasten to the Purdy house, for Ethel is in great danger. Tell him I will be there to aid him in pacifying the miners."
"But you can never pile rocks enough on the track to stop the car,"
Widow Braun says compassionately, glancing at the frail form before her.
"Have no fear. I can do my part of the work. God will give me strength.
And you, He will guide you, as well. Come, let us set about our work."
With a parting blessing from Sister Martha, the widow hurries down the track. She can discern the station five miles below at the beginning of the ten-mile grade. This station is her objective. If she can reach it before the arrival of the express, the life of Harvey Trueman and those of all the passengers will be saved.
The nature of her mission gives her strength to travel over the rough roadbed with incredible speed. Her eyes are upon the station, which momentarily becomes more and more indistinct; she knows that if the train starts up the grade she can see the headlight. Her lips move in an articulate prayer that she may not see the light. So absorbed is she in the thought of how to stop the train in the event of its passing the station that she fails to see a culvert bridge. At the bridge the roadbed terminates and a trestle carries the tracks for a distance of fifteen yards. The culvert is dry nine mouths in the year, and is a raging mountain torrent only in the spring.
Widow Braun rushes upon the trestle. Her steps are not regulated by the ties, and almost instantly she falls between them. Her hands grasp the rails on either side; but she has not sufficient strength to support herself. With an agonizing cry she drops twenty feet upon the jagged rocks below. Her head strikes a rock and she lies motionless.
Several minutes pass; then she regains consciousness. On attempting to rise she finds that her ankle is sprained. Despite the agony it causes her, the brave woman struggles to climb back to the track. It is now quite dark and she realizes that the train must be along in a few minutes. She cannot reach the station. But she may yet stop the train at the culvert bridge.
A long shrill whistle sounds. It is the familiar signal of the Keystone
Express.
Regardless of the acute pain which every step causes her, the widow scrambles over the rocks.
As she reaches the roadbed the express rumbles over the trestle. With a cry of despair she sinks to the ground.
Sister Martha is acting her role of heroine at a point a mile and a half further up the grade. She has posted herself where she can observe the station and the summit of the grade.
At the side of the track she collects a dozen boulders, the heaviest she can move. These she determines to put on the track to derail the car which the miners are to send down the grade to wreck the train.
"Will the widow Braun stop the express?" Martha asks herself again and again, as the terrible minutes of suspense pass. "Perhaps I should have gone down the track instead of sending her."
Through the darkness a glimmer of light shines from the summit of the mountain.
"The miners are in readiness. What shall I do?"
For an answer, the whistle of the train falls upon her ears.
She hesitates, then with an energy born of desperation she begins to pile the rocks on the track. The ragged edges cut her tender fingers. She works on unmindful of cuts and bruises.
Higher and higher the pyramid rises.
Only once does she glance down the track to see the train. Its great headlight looks like a beacon. It is approaching nearer and nearer.
"Have they started the car?" Martha wonders. She can hear the rumble of the train, but not a sound from the road above.
"The train will reach this spot first," she cries aloud. "The miners are waiting for it to get nearer to them."
Acting upon a sudden impulse, she runs up the track a distance of a hundred yards. There are rocks lying on the side of the track nearest the mountain.
One, two, three big rocks she places on the track.
A faint cheer reaches her.
"They have started the car," she laughs hysterically.
"It will not harm the Keystone. No, it will stop here."
Another and another rock is placed on the rails.
She knows that these boulders are a poor impediment to a wildcat car; but they are the only things available.
A whirring sound rings in her ears. It is the car rolling down the grade with the velocity of a thunder-bolt.
In a minute or two at the most, the car will be upon her.
Still she does not falter. The second pyramid must be completed.
Again she turns to look down the track. The headlight of the engine seems to be upon her. It is, in fact, just crossing the culvert.
A glance at the pile of rocks makes them appear insignificant.
"They will never be able to stop the car," she moans.
Then with a final effort she tugs at a boulder larger than any of the others. She has it on the rail when the whistling of the engine startles her.
The engineer has seen the lower pyramid of rocks on the track and has whistled "down brakes."
The train is stopping; it will be saved, for one of the two obstructions will derail the motor-car.
Sister Martha starts to run down the track. She has not taken a dozen steps when the juggernaut dashes into the pyramid of rocks.
Instantly there is a flash and an explosion, that shakes the mountain.
Great ledges of rock slide from the overhanging crags.
In a shower of splintered stone, Martha is literally entombed. Her life is sacrificed on the altar of devotion. She has lived a Christian and dies a martyr.
But the Keystone Express is saved.
Its passengers and crew, when they recover from the fright occasioned by the explosion, hasten from the cars. Trainmen are sent up the track to investigate. Brakemen are also sent down the track to carry the news to the station.
One of these men stumbles across Widow Braun. He returns to the train carrying her.
From her, Trueman and the other passengers, including the Coal and Iron Police, learn of the plot to wreck the train and of the heroic effort made by Sister Martha and the widow herself, to avert the calamity.
Trueman starts in quest of Sister Martha. Accompanied by one of the trainmen with a lamp, he reaches the scene of the explosion.
The trainman discovers the body of Martha.
Bending over the prostrate body Harvey Trueman weeps. It is the manly expression of deep emotion.
"She died to save my life and the lives of the hundreds on the train. Was there ever a more noble sacrifice? It cannot be that she has given her life in vain. I must do the work she has begun. If I can prevent the miners from committing acts of violence it will atone for the loss of Sister Martha."
From the top of the mountain, Trueman catches a glimpse of the torches and miners' lamps. The miners are moving toward the town. Trueman is familiar with every inch of ground about Wilkes-Barre. He has played on the mountain as a boy. He now recollects a by-path which will bring him to the town in advance of the miners who are on the wagon road.
"Have the body of Sister Martha taken to the Mount Hope Seminary," he says to the trainman, and away he speeds for Wilkes-Barre.
The Coal and Iron Police are thrown into utter consternation. They dare not advance upon the town in the darkness for fear that there is another plot to destroy them.
The captain orders them to march across the mountain so as to enter the town from a direction opposite to that by which they are expected. To affect this detour will delay their arrival several hours, but their own safety is more to be considered than that of the townspeople.
And the miners? They have heard the explosion and believe that the Coal and Iron Police have been sent to their doom.
With the police out of their way there is nothing to check the miners in the accomplishment of their design to recover the body of Carl Metz.
It is the radical element that has conceived the idea of wrecking the train. They take full control of the miners and lead the way to join their comrades on the Esplanade. As they pass through the streets hundreds of men and women who have known nothing of the plot to wreck the train, fall in line and march on in the procession. The number of miners and townspeople soon reaches the thousands. By the time they arrive at the Esplanade there are ten thousand in line.