Chapter XXIII
Mr. Damon at Bay
Mr. Wakefield Damon was a very odd and erratic gentleman, but he didnot lack courage. He was much more disturbed by the possible injury toTom Swift's invention by this collision with the bumper at the end ofthe timber siding than he had been by his own danger at the time of theaccident.
He did not understand enough about the devices Tom had built in theforward end of the locomotive cab to understand, by any casualexamination, if they were at all injured. But when he climbed downbeside the track he saw at once that the forward end of the locomotivehad received more than a little injury.
The pilot, or cow-catcher, looked more like an iron cobweb than it didlike anything else. The wheels of the forward trucks had not left thetrack, but the impact of the heavy locomotive with the bumper had beenso great that the latter was torn from its foundations. A little moreand the electric locomotive would have shot off the end of the railsinto the ditch.
While Mr. Damon was examining the front of the locomotive, and Tom andNed remained absent, he suddenly observed a group of men hurrying outof the forest on the other side of the H. & P. A. right of way. Theywere not railroad men--at least, they were not dressed in uniform--butthey were drawn immediately to the locomotive.
The leader of the party was a squarely built man with a determinedcountenance and a heavy mustache much blacker than his iron gray hair.He was a bullying looking man, and he strode around the rear of thelocomotive and came forward just as though he was confident of boardingthe machine by right.
Mr. Damon, knowing himself in the wilderness and not liking theappearance of this group of strangers, had retired at once to the cab,and now stood in the doorway.
"Where's that young fool Swift?" growled the man with the dyedmustache, looking up at Mr. Damon and laying one hand upon the railbeside the ladder.
"Don't know any such person," declared Mr. Damon promptly.
"You don't know Tom Swift?" cried the man.
"Oh! That's another matter," said Mr. Damon coolly. "I don't know anyfool named Swift, either young or old. Bless my blinkers! I should saynot."
"Isn't he here?" demanded the man, gruffly.
"Tom Swift isn't here just now--no."
"I'm coming up," announced the stranger, and started to put his foot onthe first rung of the iron ladder.
"You're not," said Mr. Damon, promptly.
"What's that?" ejaculated the man.
"You only think you are coming up here. But you are not. Bless myfortune telling cards!" ejaculated Mr. Damon, "I should say not."
At this point the black-mustached man began to splutter words andthreats so fast that nobody could quite understand him. Mr. Damon,however, did not shrink in the least. He stood adamant in the doorwayof the cab.
Finding little relief in bad language, the enemy made another attemptto climb up. For one thing, he was physically brave. He did not call onhis companions to go where he feared to.
"I'll show you!" he bawled, and scrambled up the rungs of the ladder.
Mr. Damon did show him. He drew from some pocket a black object with abulb and a long barrel. Somebody below on the cinder path shouted:
"Look out, boss he's got a gun!"
At that moment the marauder reached out to seize Mr. Damon's coat. Thenthe object in Mr. Damon's hand spat a fine spray into the florid faceof the enemy!
"Whoo! Achoo! By gosh!" bawled the big man, and he fell back screamingother ejaculations.
"Bless my face and eyes!" cried Mr. Damon. "What did I tell you? Andyou other fellows want to notice it. Tom Swift isn't here just at thisprecise moment; but he is guarding his locomotive just the same. Heinvented this ammonia pistol, and I should say it was effectual. Doyou?"
The eccentric man was shrewd enough now to keep behind the jamb of thecab door. For some of these fellows, he realized, might be armed withmore deadly weapons than his own.
"Hey, Mr. Lewis!" cried one big fellow, "d'you want we should get thatfellow for you?"
"I want to know how badly that blamed thing is smashed," replied thebig man with the dyed mustache savagely. "Where's O'Malley?"
"O'Malley's lit out, Boss, like I told you. That giant and them otherfellows is after him."
"Break into that cab! Oh! My eyes! I'll kill that old fool! Break away in there--What's that?"
In pain as he was, his other senses were alert. He was first to hearthe screeching whistle of the on-coming freight.
"Think they got wind of this so quick?" demanded Montagne Lewis, for itwas he. "Are they sending help from Cliff City?"
"It's a regular freight," returned one of his men.
"She's comm' a-whizzin'," added another. "Right down the eastboundtrack. If the crew see us--"
"Wait!" commanded Lewis. "Isn't that switch open?"
"You bet it is, Boss."
"Let it be, then," cried the chief plotter. "Let 'em run into it. Thatfreight will smash up this electric locomotive more completely than wecould possibly do it. Stand away, men, and let her go!"
A sharp curve in the right of way hid the siding, as well as the openswitch into it, from the gaze of the engineer who held the throttle ofthe coming freight. His locomotive drew a string of empties, eastbound,and having had a heavy pull of it coming up the grade to Cliff City, assoon as he had got the highball from the yardmaster there, he had "lether out," and was now coming to the head of the down grade to Hammon athigh speed.
As it chanced, the wireless receiving station of Tom's new telephonesystem was not yet completed at Cliff City. The news of the wreck ofthe Hercules 0001 and her position had not been relayed to the masterof the Cliff City yards.
That employee of the H. & P. A. had taken a chance in letting thestring of empties through his block. He knew the electric locomotivewas somewhere ahead, but he thought it would be making its usual timeand would have already passed Half Way.
But the situation was serious. The freight was coming along at topspeed and the switch into the siding was still open. Montagne Lewis andhis crew of ruffians might well stand back and let what seemed sure tohappen, happen! The driving freight must do more harm to Tom Swift'sinvention than they could have hoped to do with the sledges and barsthey had brought with them to the spot.
Mr. Wakefield Damon had shown his courage already. He would have beenglad to do more to save Tom's locomotive from further injury, but hedid not realize what was threatening. He did not hear the shriek of thefreight engine's whistle.
Tom Swift and His Electric Locomotive; Or, Two Miles a Minute on the Rails Page 23
