Bert Wilson's Fadeaway Ball Part 15

He was pinned down by a timber that had all the weight of one of the heavy trucks on it, and it seemed impossible that they could get him out before the fire got to him. Already they could feel its intense heat as they chopped and pulled, wrenched and lifted, in a frenzy of haste.

Nearer and nearer crept the all-embracing fire, until eyebrows and hair began to singe with the deadly heat, and they were forced to work in relays, relieving each other every minute or so.

"For G.o.d's sake, if you can't get me out of here before the fire reaches me, kill me," pleaded the unfortunate prisoner, "don't let me roast here by degrees!"

"No danger of that," gasped Bert, as he swung a huge timber aside that under ordinary circ.u.mstances he would have been unable even to move.

"We'll have you out in a jiffy, now."

"Come on boys, we've got to move this truck," yelled Reddy. "Here, everybody get hold on this side, and when I say pull, _pull_ for your lives! Now! get hold! Ready?"

"Yes!" they gasped between set teeth.

"Pull!" fairly screamed Reddy, and every man and boy grasping the obstinate ma.s.s of twisted metal put every ounce of strength in his body into one supreme effort. The ma.s.s swayed, gave, and then toppled back where it had been before!

"Don't give up!" yelled Bert, frantically, as he saw some of the men release their hold and turn away, evidently despairing of accomplis.h.i.+ng their object. "Try it again! For G.o.d's sake remember you're men, and try again! It's a human life that's at stake!"

Thus adjured, they returned to the task, and at the signal from Reddy, wrenched and tore frantically at the inert ma.s.s that appeared to mock their puny efforts.

"Keep it up, keep it up!" gritted Reddy. Slowly but surely, every muscle straining to its utmost and threatening to snap under the terrific strain, they raised the heavy truck, and with one last mad heave and pull sent it toppling down the railroad embankment.

With a wild yell they fell upon the few light timbers lying between them and the imprisoned man, and soon had him stretched out safely beside the track. On examination it proved that he had an arm wrenched and several minor injuries, but nothing fatal.

"Nothing I can say will express half the grat.i.tude I feel toward you young men," he said, smiling weakly up into the faces of the boys grouped about him, "you have saved me from a horrible death, and I will never forget it."

While waiting for the arrival of the wrecking crew and a doctor, the rescued man had considerable further talk with the members of the team, and they learned, much to their surprise, that he was an alumnus of their college. Their pleasure at this discovery was very great, and that of the stranger seemed little less.

"The old college has done me a whole lot of good, all through my life,"

he said, "but never as much as it did to-day, through her baseball team.

You will hear further from me, young men."

"Oh, it was nothing much to do," deprecated Bert, "we did the only thing there was to be done under the circ.u.mstances, and that was all there was to it!"

"Not a bit of it," insisted the gentleman. "Why, just take a look at your faces. You are all as red as though you had been boiled, and your eyebrows are singed. I declare, anybody looking at us would think that you had had a good deal harder time of it than I had."

And nothing the boys could say would induce him to alter his opinion of their heroism in the slightest degree.

Soon they heard a whistle far down the track, and shortly afterward the wrecking train hove in view. It consisted, besides the locomotive and tender, of a tool car, in which were stored all kinds of instruments, jacks, etc., that could possibly be required, and a flat car on which a st.u.r.dy swinging crane was mounted. The railroad company had also sent several physicians, who were soon busily engaged in taking proper care of the injured.

In the meantime, the crew of the wrecking train, headed by a burly foreman, got in strenuous action, and the boys marveled at the quick and workmanlike manner in which they proceeded to clear the line. As is the case with all wrecking crews, their orders were to clear the road for traffic in the shortest time regardless of expense. The time lost in trying to save, for instance, the remains of a locomotive or car for future use, would have been much more valuable than either.

A gang of Italians were set to work clearing off the lighter portion of the wreckage, and the wrecking crew proper proceeded to get chains under the locomotive that remained on the tracks. It was so twisted and bent that not one of its wheels would even turn, so it was impossible to tow it away. The only solution of the problem, then, was to lift it off the track. After the crew had placed and fastened the chains to the satisfaction of the foreman, who accompanied the process with a string of weird oaths, the signal was given to the man operating the steam crane to "hoist away."

The strong engine attached to the ma.s.sive steel crane began to whirr, and slowly the great ma.s.s of the locomotive rose, inch by inch, into the air. When the front part was entirely clear of the tracks, the operator touched another lever, and the crane swung outward, carrying the huge locomotive with it as a child might play with a toy. It was a revelation of the unlimited might of that powerful monster, steam.

Further and further swung the crane, until the locomotive was at right angles to the track, with its nose overhanging the embankment. Then, with the foreman carefully directing every movement with uplifted hand and caustic voice, the locomotive was lowered gently down the embankment, partly sliding and partly supported by the huge chain, every link of which was almost a foot long.

In speaking of this chain afterward one of the boys said he wished he had stolen it so that he might wear it as a watch-chain.

The engine finally came to rest at the foot of the incline, and the chain was slackened and cast off. Then the crane took the next car in hand, and went through much the same process with it. Car after car was slid down the embankment, and in an incredibly short time the roadway was cleared of wreckage. Then it was seen that several rails had been ripped up, but these were quickly replaced by others from racks built along the right of way, such as the reader has no doubt often seen.

In a little over an hour from the time the wrecking crew came on the scene the last bolt on the rail connecting plates had been tightened, and the track was ready again for traffic.

"Gee," exclaimed Tom, "that was quick work, for fair. Why, if anybody had asked me, I would have said that no train would have been able to use this roadway for at least a day. That crew knows its business, and no mistake."

"They sure do," agreed d.i.c.k, "they cleared things up in jig time. But it only shows what can be done when you go about it in the right way."

"I only wish we had had that crane when we were trying to lift the truck up," said the trainer, who had sauntered up to the group. "It wouldn't have been any trick at all with that little pocket instrument."

"No," laughed Bert. "I think that in the future I will carry one around with me in case of emergencies. You don't know when it might come in handy."

"Great head, great head," approved d.i.c.k, solemnly, and then they both laughed heartily, and the others joined in. After their recent narrow escape from death, life seemed a very pleasant and jolly thing.

But suddenly Bert's face sobered. "How the d.i.c.kens are we going to get to the game in time?" he inquired. "The service is all tied up, and it will be hours and hours before we can get there."

This was indeed a problem, and there seemed to be no solution. There was no other railroad running within twenty miles of this one, and while a trolley line connecting the towns was building, it had not as yet been completed. As Tom expressed it, "they were up against it good and plenty."

While they were discussing the problem, and someone had despairingly suggested that they walk, Mr. Clarke, the gentleman whom the boys had rescued from the wreck, strolled up, with his arm neatly done up in a sling. His face looked pale and drawn, but aside from the wrenched arm he appeared none the worse for his harrowing experience.

When informed of the problem facing the team, he appeared nonplussed at first, but then his face lightened up.

"My home isn't more than a mile from here," he said, "and I have recently bought a large seven-pa.s.senger automobile. You could all pack into that without much trouble, and there is a fine macadam road leading from within a few blocks of my house to the town for which you are bound. But there," and his face clouded over, "I forgot. I discharged my chauffeur the other day, and I have not had time as yet to engage another. I don't know whom I could get to drive the car. I can't do it on account of my broken arm."

"Shucks, that's too bad," said Reddy, in a disappointed tone, "that would be just the thing, if we only had someone to run it. That's what I call tough luck. I guess there's no game for us to-day, boys, unless we think of something else."

But here Bert spoke up. "If Mr. Clarke wouldn't be afraid to trust the car to me," he said, "I know how to drive, and I can promise we will take the best care of it. I know that car fore and aft, from radiator to taillight."

"Why, certainly, go as far as you like," said Mr. Clarke, heartily. "If you are sure you can handle it I will be only too glad to let you have it. Nothing I can do will repay a thousandth part of what I owe you boys."

"You're sure you're capable of handling a car, are you, Wilson?"

inquired the trainer, with a searching look. "I don't want to take a chance on getting mixed up in any more wrecks to-day. The one we've had already will satisfy me for some time to come."

"Watch me," was all Bert said, but d.i.c.k and Tom both chimed in indignantly, "I guess you don't know whom we have with us," said Tom, "why, Bert has forgotten more about automobiles than I ever knew, and I'm no slouch at that game."

"That's right," confirmed d.i.c.k. "Bert's some demon chauffeur, Reddy.

Believe me, we'll have to move some, too, if we expect to get to D---- in time for the game. Why!" he exclaimed, glancing at his watch, "it's after one now, and we're due to be at the grounds at 2:30. How far is it, Mr. Clarke, from your house to D----?"

Mr. Clarke calculated a moment, and then said, "Why, I guess it must be from fifty to fifty-five miles. You'll have to burn up the road to get there in anything like time," he said, and glanced quizzically at Bert.

"That's easy," returned the latter, "a car like yours ought to be capable of seventy miles an hour in a pinch."

Mr. Clarke nodded his head. "More than that," he said, "but be careful how you try any stunts like seventy miles an hour. I don't care about the car, but I don't want the old college to be without a baseball team owing to an automobile smashup."

"Never fear," said Bert, confidently. "You may be sure I will take no unnecessary chances. I don't feel as though I wanted to die yet awhile."

"All right," said Mr. Clarke, and proceeded to give them directions on the shortest way to reach his home. When he had finished, Reddy sang out, "All right, boys, let's get a move on. Double quick now! We haven't a minute to lose."

Accordingly the whole team started off at a swinging trot, and it was not long before Mr. Clarke's handsome residence came into view. Mr.

Clarke had given them a note, which they presented to his wife, who met them at the door. She was much agitated at the news contained therein, but, after a few anxious questions, proceeded to show them where the machine was located, and gave them the key to the garage. They raced down a long avenue of stately trees, and soon came to the commodious stone garage. Reddy unlocked the doors, and swung them wide.