“It’s queer,” commented the conductor. “Something’s in action, but what, and how?”
“There!” exclaimed Fogg, as suddenly seemingly just beyond the heavy drift immediately in front of the train the same glare was seen.
“Yes, and here, too!” shouted out the conductor, jumping back.
Almost at his feet something dropped from midair like a rocket, a bomb. It instantly burst out in a vivid red flame. Ralph investigated, and while thus engaged two more of the colored messengers, projectiles, fireworks, whatever they were, rained down, one about half-way down the train, the other beyond it. 261
The young engineer was puzzled at first, but he soon made out all that theory and logic could suggest. There was no doubt but that some one at a distance had fired the queer little spheres, which were made of the same material as the regular train fuse, only these burned twice as long as those used as railroad signals, or fully twenty minutes.
“I make it out,” explained Ralph to the conductor, “that somebody with a new-fangled device like a Roman candle is sending out these bombs as signals.”
“Then we’re not alone in our misery,” remarked Fogg.
“First they went west, then they came this way,” continued Ralph. “I should say that it looks as if the signal is on a train stalled like us about a mile away. I’ll soon know.”
Ralph got into the cab. In a minute or two No. 999 began a series of challenge whistles that echoed far and wide.
“Hark!” ordered Fogg, as they waited for a reply.