CHAPTER XVI
Following Collins's return to duty, Bucks was assigned to a newwestern station, Point of Rocks. It was in the mountains and whereCasement, now laying five and even six miles of track a day, had justturned over a hundred and eighty miles to the operating department.Bucks, the first operator ever sent to the lonely place afterwardfamous in railroad story, put his trunk aboard a freight train thenext morning and started for his destination.
The ride through the mountains was an inspiration. A party of armyofficers and their wives, preferring to take the day run for thescenery, were bound for one of the mountain posts, Fort Bridger, andthey helped to make the long day journey in the cabin car, with itsfrequent stops and its laborious engine-puffing over the mountaingrades, a pleasant one. The women made coffee on a cabin stove andBucks, the only other passenger, was invited to lunch with them.
When the train stopped at Point of Rocks and Bucks got off, the sunwas setting, and though the thin, clear air brought the distantmountains very close, the prospect was not a cheerful one. In everydirection mountain ranges, some brown and others snow-capped, roseupon the horizon. Where the railroad line made a tortuous way amongthe barren buttes that dotted the uneven plain all about, there wasnot a spear of grass nor a living thing except the stunted sage-brushof the alkali plain. In the midst of this desert a great upheaval ofgranite rock thrown squarely across the direct path of the railroadopposed its straight course and made a long reverse curve necessary.This was Point of Rocks.
"You," said Stanley once to Bucks, "may live to see this railroadbuilt across these mountains as it should be built. There will be nosharp curves then, no heavy grades such as these our little engineshave to climb now. Great compound locomotives will pull trains of ahundred cars up grades of less than one per cent and around two andthree degree curves. These high wooden bridges will all be replacedby big rock and earth fills. Tunnels will pierce the heights thatcannot be scaled by easy grades, and electric power supplied by thesemountain streams themselves will take the place of steam made by coaland hauled hundreds of miles to give us costly motive power. You maylive, Bucks, to see all of this; I shall not. When it comes, think ofme."
But there was no thought now in Bucks's mind of what the future mightbring to that forbidding desert. He saw only a rude station building,just put up, and as the train disappeared, he dragged into this histrunk and hand-bag, and in that act a new outpost of civilization wasestablished in the great West.
He called up Medicine Bend, reported, lighted a fire in the littlestove, and the spot in the desert known now to men as Point of Rocksfor the first time in the story of the world became a part of it--waslinked to the world itself.
But the place was lonely beyond words, and Bucks had a hard time tokeep it from being too much so for him. He walked at different timesover the country in every direction, and one night after a crudelyprepared supper he strolled out on the platform, desperate forsomething to do. Desolation marked the landscape everywhere. Hewandered aimlessly across the track and seeing nothing better tointerest him began climbing Point of Rocks.
The higher he climbed the more absorbed he became. Youth and strengthlent ardor to the ascent, and Bucks, soon forgetting everything below,was scaling the granite pile that towered above him. For thirtyminutes, without a halt, he continued to climb, and reaching after awhile what seemed the highest ledge of the rocky spur, he walked outupon it to the very edge and was rewarded for his labor with amagnificent panorama of the mountain divide.
In the west the sky was still golden and, though clouds appeared to bebanking heavily in the north, the view of the distant peaks wasunobstructed. From where he sat he could almost have thrown a stoneinto one tiny mountain stream that cut a silver path toward thesetting sun, and another, a hundred yards away, that flowed gentlytoward the rising sun. And he knew--for Bill Dancing had toldhim--that the one rill emptied at last into the Pacific Ocean, and theother into the Atlantic Ocean. Alongside these tiny streams he couldplainly trace the overland trail of the emigrant wagons, and, cuttingin straighter lines, but following the same general direction, lay theright-of-way of the new transcontinental railroad.
Beyond, in every direction, stretched great plateaus, and above theserugged mountain chains, lying in what seemed the eternal solitude ofthe vast desert. He was alone with the sunset, and stood for somemoments silenced by the scene before him. When a sound did at lengthreach his ear as he sat spellbound, it brought him back to himselfwith the suddenness of a shock.
At first he heard only distant echoes of a short, muffled blow,irregularly repeated and seeming familiar to the ear. As he speculatedupon what the sound might be, it grew gradually plainer and cameseemingly nearer. He bent his eyes down the valley to the west andscanned the wagon-trail and the railroad track as far as he could inthe dusk, but could see nothing. Then the muffle of the sound was atonce lifted. It came from the other direction, and, turning his eyes,he saw emerging from a small canyon that hid the trail to the east, acovered emigrant wagon, drawn by a large team of horses and driven bya man sitting in front of the hood, making its way slowly up the roadtoward the station.
The heavy play of the wheel-hubs on the axles echoed now very plainlyupon his ears, and he sat watching the outfit and wondering whetherthe travellers would camp for the night near him and give him what hecraved most of all, a little human society. The horses passed thestation, and as they did so, the driver peered intently at the newbuilding, looking back around the side of the canvas cover, andstraining his neck to see all he could see, while the horses movedalong.
This would have seemed to Bucks mere idle curiosity had he not noticedthat some one within the wagon parted the canvas flaps at the rear asit went by and likewise inspected the building with close attention.Even this was no especial incident for wonderment, nor was Buckssurprised when the emigrants, after pursuing their way until they werewell out of sight of the station itself, guided their wagon from thetrail into a little depression along the creek as if to make camp forthe night. The driver, a tall, thin man, wearing a slouch hat, gotdown from the front of the wagon and walked with a shambling gait tothe head of his horses and loosened their bridles. While the horseswere drinking, a second man, carrying a rifle, climbed down from therear of the wagon. He was of a shorter and stockier build, and on oneside the brim of his soft hat had been torn away so that it hungloosely over one ear, the other ear being covered only by a shock ofdusty hair.
A third man emerged from under the canvas cover, dropping down almostbehind the second--a fat man who looked about him with suspicion as heslowly drew a rifle out of the wagon. The driver joined his companionsfor a brief conference, and when it was finished the three men,examining their rifles, walked back up the road toward the station. Asthey neared it, two of them loitered back and presently took theirplaces behind convenient rocks where, without being seen, they couldsee everything. The third man, the driver, carrying his rifle on hisarm, walked ahead, crossed the road, and, proceeding with some care,stepped up on the platform and pushed open the door of the stationbuilding.
Bucks, perched high on the rocky spur above the scene, looked on, notknowing just what to make of it all. As he saw the two men concealthemselves, he wondered what sort of a call the third man intendedmaking on the new agent, and why he should leave two armed men closeat hand in ambush when calling on one lone telegraph operator. Bucksbegan to feel a bit creepy and watched the scene unfolding below withkeen attention. The driver of the wagon getting no response as heopened the door, walked inside, and for a moment was not seen. He soonreappeared, and, stepping to the side of the building signalled hiscompanions to come up. Bucks saw them emerge from their hiding-placesand join the driver at the station door.
A second conference followed. It was briefer than the first, butthere seemed some difference of opinion among the three men, andthe talk terminated abruptly by the driver's clubbing his rifle anddeliberately smashing in the sash of the window before which hewas standing.
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sp; Whatever had held Bucks spellbound thus far released him suddenly foraction when he saw the rifle-stock raised and heard the crash of theglass. He jumped up, and running to the edge of the ledge nearest thestation yelled at the marauder and shook his finger at him vigorously.The attack on his habitation was too much for Bucks's composure, and,although he knew his words could not be heard from where he stood, hefelt he could frighten the intruders.
This was his second mistake. No sooner had his visitors sighted himthan two guns were turned on him and instantly fired. He jumped backbefore the fat man, who, slower than his companions, had somedifficulty in shooting so high above his head, could get his gun up.Afterward, Bucks learned how providential this was, inasmuch as thebig fellow was the deadliest shot of the three.
But at the moment, danger was the last thing the operator thought of.The unprovoked and murderous attack infuriated him, and againforgetting his caution he drew his own revolver without hesitation,and, running to a more protected spot, leaned over the ledge and firedpoint-blank into the group, as they looked up to see what had becomeof him.
If it had been his intention to hit any one of them with his bullets,his shooting was a failure and some experience in after years amongmen practised in gunnery convinced him that to aim at three men is notthe right way to hit one.
But if he had meant only to create a sensation his move was successfulbeyond his greatest expectation. Had a bomb been exploded on theplatform the marauders could not have scattered more quickly. Bucksnever in his life had seen three men move so fast. The fat man,indeed, had given Bucks the impression of being heavy and slow in hismovements. He now made a surprising exhibition of agility, and Bucksto his astonishment, saw him distancing his leaner companions andsprinting for the shelter at a pace that would have made a jack-rabbittake notice.
Bucks, somewhat keyed up, fired twice again at the fleeing men, butwith no more effect than to kick up the dust once behind and onceahead of them as they ran. The instant they reached the rocks wherethey found shelter Bucks drew back out of sight, and none too soon,for as he pulled himself away from the ledge, a rifle crackedviciously from below and the slug threw a chunk of granite almost upinto his face; the fat man was evidently having his innings.
Bucks, out of immediate danger, lay perfectly still for a few momentscasting up the strange situation he found himself in. Why the menshould have acted as they had, was all a mystery, but thieves oroutlaws they evidently were, and outlaws in this country he alreadywell knew were men who would stop at nothing.
He realized, likewise, that he was in grave danger. The night wasbefore him. No train would be through before morning. He could notreach his key by which he might have summoned aid instantly. For amoment he lay thinking. Then taking off his hat he stuck his headcarefully forward; it was greeted at once by a bullet. The lesson wasobvious and next time he wanted to reconnoitre he stuck his hatforward first on the muzzle of his gun, as he had often read offrontiersmen doing, and, having drawn a shot, stuck his head outafterward for a quick look. All that remained in the open was the teamand wagon, but this left the outlaws at a disadvantage, for if theywanted to get their outfit and go on their way they must exposethemselves to Bucks's fire. While they might feel that one operator,armed with a revolver he hardly knew how to use, was not a dangerousfoe, a Colt's, even in the hands of a boy who had thus far fired firstand aimed afterward, was not wholly to be despised. An accident mighthappen even under such conditions, and the three men, knowing thatdarkness would soon leave them free, waited in absolute silence.
Night fell very soon and the light of the stars, though leavingobjects visible upon the high ledge, left the earth in impenetrabledarkness. Strain his eyes as he would, Bucks could perceive nothingbelow. He could hear, however, and one of the first sounds audible wasthat of the wagon moving quietly away. It was a welcome sound, eventhough he dared not hope his troublesome visitors would withdrawwithout further mischief. His chief concern at this juncture was toget safely, if he could, down the rocks and into the station to givethe alarm to the despatcher; for he made no doubt that the outlaws, ontheir wagon trip west, would damage in any way they might be ablerailroad supplies and property along their way.
Before Bucks had climbed down very far and after he had made one ortwo startling missteps, he began to consider that it was one thing toget up a rough arete in daylight and quite another to get down one inthe darkness. The heavy clouds moving down from the north had massedabove Point of Rocks, and he heard once in a while an ominous roll ofthunder, as he slipped and slid along and bruised his hands and feetupon the rocks.
He had with great care got about half-way down, when the pitchdarkness below him was pierced by a small flame which he took at firstfor the blaze of a camp fire. In another moment he was undeceived. Thestation was on fire. It was evidently the last effort of the outlawsto wreak vengeance as they left. Bucks clambered over the rocks ingreat alarm. He thought he might reach the building in time to saveit, and, forgetting the danger of being shot should his enemies remainlying in wait, he made his way rapidly down the Point. The flames nowburst from the east window of the station, and he despaired of savingit, but he hurried on until he heard the crack of a rifle, felt hiscap snatched from his head and fell backward against the face of therock. As he lost consciousness he slipped and rolled headlong down thesteep ledge.
The Mountain Divide Page 16
