The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1935-03-15
CHAPTER VI-Continued

10
The engine crew had been fussing
with a suspected draw bar and did not
enter the cook shanty until most of the
others had left. Soon afterward the
door opened again and Blackmore
came in.
"How near are you ready to de-
liver?" he asked Elliott with a wor-
ried frown.
"As soon as the boys, there, stoke
their own boilers!" Ben replied lightly.
"Sure you can make it?"
GAS sure as man can be-"
81 sure hope so, Ben. Guess you
know by now that I'm pulling for you
in this scrap. But I've got to hold you
to your contract. To the hour and let
ter of it. Your friend Brandon has
wired into the house, it seems, offering
any quantity of veneer stuff up to
seventy thousand at ten dollars less
than your contract calls for. Here's
a Notwithstanding a telegram-"o order
ing me to hold you to your agreement
and if you're late or short on scale
to have Brandon load tomorrow. It's
out of my hands, you see."
Ben's mouth frightened.
"Well, it happens, we've ducked
from under our genial friend Brandon
again. Yeah. Well whip-saw Mr.. Nick
Brandon"
Blackmore grinned and unbuttoned
his coat. He chuckled. He was glad.
He was On Ben's side for certain, and
as he lit his pipe and commenced to talk,
with an easing in his manner, tri-
umphant sort Of peace descended on
the shanty.
But even as they visited, slender
figure, moving through the darkness
with a slight limp, followed the Hoot
Owl steel up the long grade that
climbed from the siding. From the
crest of this grade the steel pitched
sharply northward into the narrow
valley Of the river where alders and
willows showed black, now, against the
snow on either side of the stream.
On the trestle this figure stood still a
long interval, listening for sounds in
the cold quiet. Then he dropped down
the bank of the stream to where the
crib work of the trestle stood, sroutly
footed beneath the muck and water.
For many minutes he was there, grunt-
ing occasionally, and when he climbed
the bank again he trailed something
carefully behind. Across the
bridge, now, he went, after more lis
tening, and down again beneath the
north end Of the trestle. More grunt-
ing; pawings in the snow, hard prod
ding with short steel bar. T.. And
up again, trailing something carefully
once more.
Next, the man lighted a cigarette.
shielded the fame of the match In
cupped hands and after the tobacco
was burning applied the fire to pair
of other objects held tightly between
thumb and forefnger. He let
them go and pair of greenish sputters
began crawling across the trestle :.
and the man was umping swiftly up
the hill, over the crest, while the green
Sputters drew apart, one crossing the
trestle toward it's northernly end, the
other moving in the opposite direc-
ton.
1t was twenty minutes later. Ben
Elliott was pulling on his mackinaw,
preparatory to going out with the first
three cars of logs, when he stopped
suddenly, one arm in its sleeve, as a
jolt shook the building. rafting dishes
and causing the door Of the range oven
to drop open with bang. None in
the place spoke; they looked at each
other, faces set in puzZlement. Again
came heavy jolt, loud defamation,
and a pan fell from its shelf with a
crazy clatter. No word, still. Without
speaking they leaped for the doorway
and emerged to see the crew splitting
from the mems shanty to look and listen.
Its dinnymitel" Bird Eye Blaine
croaked hoarsely as he ran out. "Din-
nymite fer sure! Where, Benny by?"
looking earnestly into Elliott's face.
"That's for us to find out" Ben an
swered grimly and they followed him
as he ran with long strides toward the
direction from which the sound had
come, down the track to where it
curved and dipped to the trestle which
spanned the river.
Minutes later they came up to him,
the fastest Of them, as he stood mo-
tionless on the bank of the Hoot Owl,
looking at the mass of twisted railroad
steel and of ties that dangled from the
swinging rails in ragged fringe; at
the scattered remnants of crib work,
at the piling standing splintered and
awry and useless in the stream bed.
Ben Elliott's bridge was gone. His
way to the siding with his veneer logs,
on the delivery Of which hung the fate
of the operation, was blocked. No time
remained to team them out, there was
no other way to get them out except
by steel. And his steel was broken,
twisted, useless.
He turned to face them as they
crowded up, swearing and exclaiming
in excited voices.
you, Houston!" he snapped to the
camD's boss. sect those standards off