CHAPTER IV.

THE REAL SUBSTITUTE.

It was a clear night with a myriad of stars in the sky. The silver crescent of a quarter moon had sunk below the wooded hills in the west. A chill from the distant mountains was in the air, though but little wind was stirring.

The midnight stillness of the rural country south of North Dayton, where the lofty signal tower loomed up at the junction of the western division of the S. & O. Railway, was broken only by the frequent croakings of frogs in a swamp east of the tracks, or the occasional cry of some night bird circling overhead.

The N. D. tower, as it was known on the wire, was in a lonely locality. Trains stopped there only for water, or in response to the signal lights, which changed from green and red to white when the night operator, Tom Denny, worked the huge levers in the tower chamber.

He was seated at his telegraph stand shortly before twelve on that eventful night, a compact, muscular man of middle age. A revolver was lying near the instrument.

The murder in the K. C. tower at Shelby, the brutal killing of Karl Glidden, also the other crimes and the outrages along the S. & O. road—all were so fresh in the mind of every night operator during his weary vigil, that none was taking any chances of being caught unprepared.

Three bells suddenly broke the stillness of the tower chamber. They told Denny that the operator in the next tower north was waiting for his unlock, that the Southern Limited was approaching North Dayton, and Denny pushed the plug into the box and held it for an O. K. Getting it almost instantly, he arose and set his signals.

As he turned from the lever, he heard a step on the tower stairs. As quick as a flash, while a hand was laid on the knob of the door, Denny stepped to the table and seized his revolver.

The door was opened and a roughly clad, bearded man appeared on the threshold. He looked like a track hand, or one employed on the railway. He was a stranger to Denny, however, who covered him instantly, crying sharply:

“Hold on! Stop right there! What do you want?”

Nick Carter smiled and said quietly:

“A few words with you, Denny, nothing more. I have a letter of introduction from President Burdick. It will tell you who I am and why I am here.”

Denny appeared incredulous and suspicious.

“Stay where you are!” he commanded. “Toss me the letter, then hands up while I read it.”

Nick obeyed, remarking, with a laugh:

“You’re all right, Denny. He will be a good man, indeed, who catches you napping.”

Denny read the brief letter, all the while with one eye upon the intruder. He had no doubt of Nick’s identity, however, after reading the missive and seeing the familiar handwriting of the railway president.

“By Jove, you gave me a disagreeable surprise to start with, Mr. Carter, but this more than makes up for it,” he said heartily, placing the letter and weapon upon the table and extending his hand.

“Good enough,” Nick replied, entering and shaking hands with him.

“I can, indeed, guess why you are here,” Denny added. “It is something in connection with your efforts to run down the railway bandits. I at first thought you were one of them.”

“Quite naturally, Denny, I’m sure,” smiled the detective.

“I know you are in the employ of the road, of course, since you cornered Jim Reardon and sent him after his victim. But what’s your mission here to-night? How can I be of any help to you?”

Nick knew that he could safely confide in him, and he then briefly informed him of the circumstances and of the steps he was taking to prevent the suspected robbery.

“I wish to board the express car without incurring suspicions, Denny, in case any of the gang are on the watch during this last stop of the train, before the job is to be attempted,” Nick proceeded to explain. “I can do so, all right, by pretending to be a track hand and in the employ of the road. No observer seeing me come down from the signal tower would think it strange for me to board the car as if to ride to Shelby.”

“Surely not,” Denny quickly agreed. “That frequently occurs. You look the part to the letter, too, Mr. Carter.”

“I wish to be with Cady in the car during the run,” Nick added. “I will, I think, show these bandits that their knavery will be far from a walk-over.”

“No doubt,” said Denny, smiling. “You’ll find Cady all right, too, and game to the core. He’s one man in a thousand.”

“So Burdick informed me.”

“No one has anything on Cady.”

“Can you consistently leave the tower after the train arrives?”

“Yes, indeed, while the engine is taking water. I nearly always have dispatches to take down.”

“Capital! Go down with me to the express car, then, and pretend that you know me to be a track hand and that I have a right to ride with Cady. I wish to get into the car without any display of opposition on his part.”

“I’ll fix you, Mr. Carter, as far as that goes.”

“And that is all I will require of you,” said Nick. “I will explain to Cady after the train leaves here. How soon is it due?”

“In about five minutes,” said Denny, glancing at a clock on the wall. “I’ll slip on my coat and be ready to go down with you.”

“Very good,” Nick said approvingly. “Pay no attention to any persons who may be on the platform, or step from the train during the stop. An inquisitive stare might cause misgivings.”

“I’m wise, Mr. Carter,” Denny assured him. “I’ll do precisely as if I knew nothing about this deviltry. I’m over seven, you know, and——”

He was interrupted by the sudden, rapid ticking of the telegraph instrument. It proved to be a dispatch for the engineer of the coming train, and Denny scarce had transcribed it when the whistle of the locomotive sounded in the near distance.

Half a minute later the glare of its headlight appeared amid the scattered lights of the town, from which it emerged at high speed and immediately began slowing down to make the junction.

“Come on!” Denny cried, leading the way. “She stops only five minutes.”

Nick followed him from the chamber and down the long flight of stairs from the tower. He could feel the structure trembling under the vibrations caused by the heavy train, which then was approaching the long platform and coming to a stop, amid the clanging of the locomotive bell, the furious hissing of steam, and the grinding of the brakes.

Only a solitary man was pacing the platform, carrying a traveler’s grip and a light overcoat. Nick saw at a glance that he was a commercial drummer and not worthy of suspicion.

Several men stepped from the train, obviously to break the monotony of a night journey, but neither the looks or actions of any appeared suspicious. Nick quickly noted the make-up of the train, a baggage car, the express car, a smoker, an ordinary passenger car, and two Pullman sleepers in the rear. He knew that Chick was on the train, but he did not know just where, nor particularly care at that moment.

Denny ran to the locomotive and gave the engineer the dispatch, then hurriedly rejoined Nick and led the way to the express car.

The sliding side door was thrown open from within while they approached, and Denny quickly greeted the man who appeared in the brightly lighted car.

“Hello, Cady, old chap!” he exclaimed. “You’re right on time to-night, all right. Here’s Jack Dakin, track hand, who will ride with you to Shelby. He missed the last local. You don’t know him, I reckon, but he’s all right.”

“Ride with me?” questioned Cady, sharply regarding both.

He was a well-built man of middle age, of sandy complexion, and wearing a full beard. He was clad in blouse and overalls, with a woolen cap pulled over his brow.

Nick did not wait for him to make any objections. He grasped the edge of the door and drew himself up from the platform, saying quietly, while he entered the car:

“It’s all right, Cady. I’ve got a letter to you from President Burdick. Don’t oppose me. Pretend this is nothing unusual.”

Cady seemed to grasp the situation. A fiery gleam appeared for a moment in the depths of his gray eyes, but he drew back to make room for Nick, replying, in quick whispers:

“What’s up? There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

“Wait until we leave here. Don’t question,” cautioned Nick.

“It’s all right, Cady,” Denny quickly assured him, leaning in through the open door.

“Good enough, then,” Cady nodded. “I’ll take your word for it, Tom.”

Nick had strode across the car and seated himself on a packing case, one of several that evidently had been shipped by express and which occupied one side of the car. He noticed that the door of a safe in one corner was closed, and the handle indicated that the safe was properly locked and the combination scattered. He felt reasonably sure that he could, with the help of Dan Cady and Chick, foil and arrest any gang that would attempt the robbery.

The clanging of the locomotive bell told that the train was about to start.

Passengers on the platform scampered toward the cars from which they had emerged.

“So long, Cady!” cried Denny, while he hastened toward the tower stairs.

Cady responded with a gesture and then closed and secured the door of the express car.

A backward jolt, a jangling of bumpers and couplings, a furious hissing of steam, followed by the labored puffing of the locomotive, and the train made way and the lonely junction with its platform and the signal tower were quickly left behind, grim and silent in the twilight of the starry night.

Nick Carter then lost no time in explaining the situation, the outcome of which was far from what he expected, yet what no mortal man could have anticipated.

“Now, Cady, I’ll put you wise to what’s in the wind,” said he, rising from the case on which he was seated. “Here is the letter from President Burdick that will tell you who I am, and a word will explain why I am here.”

Cady opened the letter and read it, then gazed more sharply at the detective.

“Well, say, this is some surprise,” he said bluntly. “I did not dream that you were Nick Carter, though I knew you were in the employ of the road. Do you suspect something wrong to-night, Mr. Carter, that you have boarded my car in this way?”

“More than suspect,” Nick replied. “You are carrying a money package of sixty thousand dollars, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Carter, I am.”

“Where is it?”

“Locked in the safe, sir, of course.”

“Very good,” Nick nodded. “It will be up to you and me, Cady, to prevent a bunch of bandits from removing it from the safe. Not only to prevent them, Cady, but also to corner and arrest them. Are you game for such an undertaking?”

Cady continued to look Nick straight in the eye.

“Game, sir!” he exclaimed. “You bet I’m game. If they get that money, Mr. Carter, they’ll get it over my dead body. But why do you suspect anything of the kind?”

Nick briefly informed him, and the bearded face of the express-car man took on a more serious expression.

“So you got wise to all that from the two telegrams?” he said inquiringly.

“Exactly,” Nick nodded.

“You’re a keen man, Mr. Carter.”

“Not at all, Mr. Cady. It’s a part of my business to detect such things when they come my way.”

“What other steps have you taken to prevent this job?”

“None of importance,” Nick said evasively. “I think that you and I, Cady, will be able to prevent it.”

“Sure, sir, as far as that goes,” Cady quickly agreed. “Do you know just where and how it is to be attempted?”

“Not how, Cady, but somewhere between here and Shelby.”

“We have not long to wait, then,” Cady declared. “We make the run from North Dayton in twenty-six minutes.”

“Where are we now?”

“We have covered about eight miles. We are in Willow Creek section, a mighty lonely locality, and the next place near which we pass is Benton Corners.”

“Benton Corners!” Nick echoed. “That’s where I rounded up Jim Reardon, and where Jake Hanlon, Link Magee, and Dick Bryan live. I suspected them of having been Reardon’s confederates, but we could not convict them. It may be, by Jove, that they are engaged in this job.”

“Quite likely. They certainly are bad eggs.”

“You know them, then?”

“By name and sight,” Cady nodded. “But we’ll be ready for them. You are armed, sir, of course, and I have a revolver in the safe. I’ll get it and——”

“No, no, don’t unlock the safe,” Nick quickly objected. “The job may be attempted at any moment. I have two revolvers. Take one of them and be ready to hold up the rascals.”

“I’ll be ready,” Cady declared, taking the weapon. “Throw up your hands, Carter, and be darned quick about it, or you’ll get a slug of lead from your own weapon.”

Nick Carter was never more surprised in his life.

Cady had turned the revolver squarely upon the detective, and there was a gleam in his eyes, a vicious ring in his voice, denoting that he meant what he said.

No sane man would have ignored them, and Nick threw up his hands. They stood confronting one another in the swaying car, these two men, Cady with a murderous look on his bearded face, the detective with an expression of sudden terrible sternness, mingled with surprise.

“What’s this, Cady?” he demanded. “I was told that you were true blue and a man of courage.”

“You don’t want to believe all you’re told,” Cady snarled back at him. “Don’t drop your hands, Carter, or I’ll drop you.”

“Are you in with this gang?” Nick sternly questioned.

“You bet I’m in with it. I’m out to get this coin—and to get you, now, since you know so much about——”

The car lurched suddenly on a curve.

The revolver covering the detective’s breast deviated for a moment, as Cady swayed under the sudden lurch.

It was the moment for which Nick Carter was watching. He was as quick as a flash in seeing and seizing the opportunity. His left hand shot downward and grasped the miscreant’s wrist, turning the revolver aside, while his right shot out and closed with a viselike grip around Cady’s neck.

“In with this gang, are you?” he shouted. “You shall pay the price, then.”

But again the unexpected occurred. Another lurch of the car threw both men, then engaged in the terrible struggle, against the wall of the car.

Cady’s beard was torn off and the truth revealed—the man was not Cady.

It was not a substitute package to which the telegram had referred, but—a substitute man!

Something like a half-smothered oath broke from the detective. He swung the struggling ruffian around and forced him against the wall of the swaying car. He could have overcome him and crushed him within half a minute—if help had not been at hand.

All transpired, in fact, in far less time than half a minute.

The covers of two of the packing cases flew upward.

Out of each case leaped a man.

A bludgeon in the hand of one fell squarely on Nick’s head.

The fist of the other caught him on the jaw.

A blow from the supposed Cady landed over his heart.

And under this combined assault, made with all the vicious energy of utter desperation, Nick Carter sank to the floor of the reeling car, bleeding and insensible, with every muscle relaxed.