“Did you find Whitey Malone?” asked the engineer of the Midnight Flyer reflectively.
“No. Zeph has lost trace of him. But I believe the fellow is still away from Rockton. I fancy McCarrey was afraid to trust him here. Or he has been sent along the road on some errand that has not yet come to a head. That boy, Zeph, is like a beagle on a trail, however. I hope he will mark down his man before long.”
Ralph’s own eyes were always open for the appearance of Whitey. By night, of course, while he sat on the bench of the big locomotive that drew the Midnight Flyer, he could not hope to see much on either side of the twin rails over which his train sped. But coming back by daylight he saw a good deal more.
The eastbound express made several stops besides those four which the Flyer made. And it was during those brief stops that Ralph picked up most of the news he got regarding the feeling of the road’s employees along the division.
At Hardwell, a considerable lumbering town some miles east of Oxford and on the slope of Shadow Valley, Ralph first heard of the “bandit.” He saw on the platform a man with his head bandaged surrounded by a little group of interested natives. The engineer identified the evidently wounded man as the third trick operator and signalman at this station.
He could not leave his engine, of course, but the operator knew Ralph and came down the platform to speak to him.
“I got a nasty smash on the head this morning,” he explained. “I don’t know who the rascal was, but he got a hundred and forty dollars of the road’s money and my watch and stickpin.”
“How came you to let him do that, Fiske?” Ralph asked, but with some sympathy.
“I was setting the signals for your own train, Fairbanks, the Midnight Flyer. I didn’t hear the fellow come in, but just as I turned from the levers I found him there behind me. Sure I had a gun! But it was in the desk drawer. We haven’t had a hold-up around here for years. He hit me on the head with the butt of his gun and I went down and out. When I came to he had lit out with my junk and the company’s money.”
“That is too bad,” said Ralph, as he caught sight of the conductor’s raised arm. “What kind of looking fellow was he?”