Ralph started for the edge of the platform, for he saw the rear of the locomotive backing in. Stilling held the throttle. This fireman would soon apply for an engineer’s job. He handled the huge machine like a veteran, and when the coupling was made the passengers already in their berths aboard the train scarcely knew it, save for the long sigh of the compressed air.
Ralph stepped aboard while the firemen made the connections. As usual he put his can under the seat on the driver’s side. As he stooped to do this, he saw something white fluttering in the draught.
It was a folded paper hung upon a nail under the seat. He could not have missed seeing it when he set the luncheon kit down on the floor. He picked up the paper and stood up. He unfolded it in the light of his target lamp. Written boldly across the sheet were these words:
“Fairbanks:—You’re due for a bump to-night. If you like yourself, stay off the Midnight Flyer.”
This threatening screed was unsigned. And yet, as Ralph stared at it, he somehow felt that he had seen the careless writing before.
Who was this who seemed to be warning him, as well as threatening him? Was it a fake, or in earnest? Were the strikers or their friends trying to frighten him? Or did somebody who really felt kindly toward the young engineer believe that he should be warned of a real danger?
And where had he seen that handwriting before?
This last question seemed as important as the others. After the blowing out of the trestle pillar at the Devil’s Den, Ralph could easily believe that Andy McCarrey’s crowd would attempt other wicked designs against the peace and safety of the road and its loyal employees.
That the malcontents were making a grave mistake was undoubtedly a fact. The outrage at Devil’s Den and further attempts to wreck trains on the division would arouse the antagonism of the Brotherhoods instead of bringing their membership into line, as McCarrey had hoped. Such attempts threatened the lives of the train crews. Engineers and firemen and conductors and brakemen could not be frightened into aiding McCarrey in his wildcat strike. That went without saying.
Ralph had very little time to decide what he should do about this paper that he had found under his bench. He glanced up at the clock. Three minutes of midnight!