“Hardly,” observed Ralph, with a smile.
“Eh, lad, what do you mean?”
“What I say. Truth is, I saw what was coming. There was only one thing to do. There were tools in the car. I sawed a hole through the floor of the car, rolled the safe to it, and 144 dumped it through. It went between two rotten ties, and lies in the swamp—safe.”
With a shout of delight old John Griscom slapped his young assistant admiringly on the shoulder.
“Fairbanks,” he cried, “you’re a jewel! Mate,” to the fireman, “this is glad news.”
“It is, indeed,” said his companion. “I wouldn’t like the record of losing that safe. Can you locate the spot, Fairbanks?”
“It may take some trouble,” answered Ralph. “The best thing to do is to get a wrecking car here; meantime, the trestle should be guarded.”
They ran on and up to the spot where the stolen train was halted, but found the vicinity deserted. It seemed that whatever the robbers had guessed out as to the mystery of the safe, they did not consider there was any chance of recovering it.
The two men armed with rifles remained at the trestle, while the others took the stolen pay car back to Dover. Once there, Griscom kept the wires busy for a time. About daylight a wrecking crew was made up. Ralph accompanied them to the scene of the attempted robbery.
He could fairly estimate the locality of the sunken safe, and some abrasions of the ties finally indicated the exact spot where the safe had gone 145 through into the water below. It was grappled for, found, and before noon that day the pay car train arrived at Stanley Junction with the safe aboard.