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11. The Haunted Station



True to the division superintendent's promise, a month following the incident of the runaway ore train, Alex was transferred to the despatching office at Exeter. It was the superintendent himself who on the evening of his arrival presented him for duty to the chief night despatcher; and a few minutes later, having been initiated into the mysteries of directing and recording the movements of trains, Alex was shown to his wire.

"It is a short line--only as far as the Midway freight junction," the chief explained; "but if you make good here, you will soon be given something bigger.

"And, by the way, take your time in sending to the operator at the Junction," he added. "He's a rather poor receiver, but was the only man we could get to go there, on account of that so-called 'haunting' business."

"Oh, has the 'ghost' appeared there again?" inquired Alex with interest. For the "haunting" of the Midway Junction station had been a subject of much discussion on the main-line wire a few weeks back.

"Yes, two nights ago. And like the four men there before him, the night man left next morning. It is a strange affair. But I think the man there now will stick."

At midnight Alex called Midway Junction, and sent the order starting north the last freight for the night. Fifteen minutes later the operator at MJ suddenly called, and clicked, "That 'Thing' is here again. It's walking up and down the platform just outside.

"There it is now!" he sent excitedly. "And twice I've jumped out, and the moment I opened the door it was gone!

"There it is again!

"Now it's on the roof!" he announced a few moments after. "Rolling something down--just like the other chaps said! Gee, I'm no coward, but this thing is getting my nerve."

Though himself now considerably excited, Alex sought to reassure the MJ man. "But you know there must be some simple explanation to it," he sent. "No one really believes in ghosts these days. Just don't allow yourself to be frightened."

"Yes, I know," ticked the sounder. "That's what I told myself before I came. It seems vastly different, though, right here on the spot, and all by yourself, and it dark as pitch outside. If there was only someone else--"

The wire abruptly closed, a moment remained so, then suddenly opened, and in signals so excitedly made that Alex could only guess at some of them, he read: "Did you hear that? Did you get that?"

"Hear what? The wire was closed to me."

"Clooossclosd! Goed 6eavns! Whiiieeeeee Whyyy--" By an effort the frightened operator at the other end of the wire pulled himself together, and sent more plainly:

"When I stopped that time someone broke in here and said: 'Ha ha! Hi hi! Look behind! Look beh--'"

Again the wire closed, again opened.

"Theeeereit waaawas again!"

Alex called the chief. "Mr. Allen, that 'ghost,' or whatever it is--"

Once more the instruments broke out in an almost inarticulate whirr, and with difficulty together they picked out the words: "... sounds in the next room ... yelling and groaning just other side partition ... whispering at me through a knot-hole ... an eye looking at me ... stand it any longer ... right now! G. B. (Good-by)!"

Grasping the key, the chief sent quickly, "Look here! Wait a moment! You there?"

There was no response. Again he called, and gave it up. "No use. He's off like the rest of them. Well, I'm not sure I blame him. There must be something wrong. But it beats me!"

As he was about to move away the chief turned back and handed Alex a letter. "I overlooked giving it to you when you came in," he explained.

"From Jack Orr!" said Alex with pleasure. A moment later he uttered a second exclamation, again read a paragraph, and with a delighted "The very thing!" hastened after the chief.

"Mr. Allen, this letter is from a friend of mine, a first class commercial operator, who wants to get into railroad telegraphing, and who would be just the man to send to MJ.

"He is a regular amateur detective, and has all kinds of pluck," Alex went on, and in a few words recounted Jack's clearing up of the cash-box mystery at Hammerton, the part he played in the breaking up of the band of Black-Handers, and his resourcefulness when the wires were cut at Oakton.

The chief smiled and reached for a message blank. "Thank you, Ward," he said. "That's the man we want exactly. How soon can he come?"

"He says he could take a place with us right away, sir."

"Good. We'll have him there if possible to-morrow evening," decided the chief, writing.

Needless to say Jack was delighted when early the following morning at Hammerton he received the telegraphed appointment to the station at Midway. At once resigning at the Hammerton commercial office, he hurried home, by noon was on the train, and arrived at Midway Junction at 7 o'clock.

Entering the telegraph room, he called Exeter. "Well, here I am, Al," he ticked, when Alex himself responded. "And I'm ever so much obliged to you, old boy, for getting me the position."

"Don't mention it. And anyway," responded Alex, "you had better save your thanks until you learn just what you are up against there. I didn't have time to write--but the former man left last night, simply on the run." And continuing, Alex explained.

"So you see, you were called in as a sort of expert."

"Hi," laughed Jack. "Well, I'll do the best I can. But probably the 'ghost' won't show up again now for a month or so?"

"On the contrary, it is more likely to return soon," clicked Alex. "That has been the way every time so far--three or four appearances in succession. So you had better prepare for business at once."

Alex's prediction was realized two nights later. A few minutes after the last freight had gone north, and Jack had been left entirely alone in the big station, he heard light footfalls outside on the platform. Going to the window, he peered out into the darkness, and seeing nothing, turned to the door. As he opened it the footsteps ceased.

Surprised, Jack returned and secured a lantern, and passed out and down the long platform. From end to end it was deserted and silent.

He returned to the office. Scarcely had he closed the door when again came the sound of footsteps.

Jack paused and listened. They were light and quick, like those of a woman--up and down, up and down, now pausing a moment, now briskly resuming, as though the walker was anxiously waiting for someone.

On tiptoe Jack went back to the door, suddenly flung it open and flashed the lantern. As quickly the steps had ceased. Not a moving object was to be seen.

Immensely puzzled, Jack withdrew, and stepped to the instrument table. As he reached toward the telegraph key from almost directly overhead broke out a thundering rumble, as of a heavy wooden ball bounding down the roof.

Catching up the lantern, he once more rushed forth. Immediately, as before, all was silence. Nervous at last, in spite of himself, Jack hesitated, then resolutely set forth on a complete round of the station and freight shed, throwing the lantern light upon the roof, through the dusty windows, and into every nook and corner. Nowhere was there a sign of life.

He returned. The moment he closed the office door the rumble broke out afresh.

Jack sprang to the instruments, called Exeter, and sent rapidly, "Al, that 'ghost' is here, and in spite of me, is beginning to get on my--"

The line opened, then sharply clicked: "Look behind! Look behind!"

With a cry Jack was on his feet, and had started for the door. Half way he pulled up, with a determined effort controlled his panic, and returned to the key. "I suppose you didn't hear that, Al?" he asked.

"Not a letter." "Well, good gracious, what--Oh!"

A cold chill shot up Jack's back. The cause was a low, long-drawn moan, apparently from just the other side of the wooden partition, in the freight room. Again it came, then suddenly ceased to give place to a low, tense whispering immediately behind him. Jack sprang about, and leaped to his feet. Within touch of him was a large knot-hole.

And was there not an eye at it? Peering at him?

He sprang toward it.

No! Nothing! The whispering, too, had ceased.

Thoroughly shaken, Jack again turned for his hat--and again faltered between the chair and the door.

"You there, Jack?" clicked Alex. "Hang on, old boy. Keep your nerve."

Clenching his teeth and gripping his hands Jack regained control of himself, and returned to the instruments. "Thanks, Al," he sent. "I was about all in, sure enough. But I am OK again now, and going to stick it out unless 'they,' or 'it,' or whatever it is, lugs me off bodily."

"That's the talk," said Alex encouragingly. "I knew you'd make good. Just keep on telling yourself there must be some natural explanation somehow, and you'll win out OK."




"Yes, that's my cue--'a natural explanation somehow,'" Jack repeated to himself the following afternoon as he left the big railroad boarding-house, a half mile from the station, and set out for a walk, to think things over.

"And I believe the starting point is that talk on the wire. That certainly is the work of an operator.

"Now, why is it heard only at this office?

"Say! Could it be on the loop? A cut-off arrangement on the station loop?

"I'll go down and look into that right now," declared Jack, and turning about, headed for the station.

The platforms and the big freight shed were alive with the bustle of the freight handlers, loading and unloading cars, trundling boxes and bales from one part of the platform to another and in and out of the big shed; and unnoticed, Jack discovered where the wires from the pole passed in under the roof. Entering the shed, he proceeded carefully to follow their course along the beams toward the telegraph room. He had almost reached the partition, and was beginning to think his conclusion perhaps too hastily drawn, when a few feet from the wall, where the light from an opposite window struck the roof, he caught two unmistakable gleams of copper. With a suppressed cry he made his way directly beneath, and at once saw that the insulation of both wires of the loop had been cut through.

"Right! I was right!" exclaimed Jack jubilantly beneath his breath. "And I can see in a minute how it's done. Whoever it is, simply gets up there somehow, and ticks one wire against the other--and of course the instruments inside click as they are alternately cut off and cut on, and the rest of the line is not affected!

"Good! I'm on the trail.

"But what can be the object of it all?"

Jack turned to look about him, and as in answer the lettering of a nearby box caught his eye:

"VALUABLE! HANDLE WITH CARE!"

"Freight stealing! Could that be it?"

On reporting for duty that evening Jack called Alex on the wire and asked if any freight had recently been reported missing from the Midway depot.

"No, but I understand some valuable stuff has been mysteriously disappearing at Claxton and Eastfield," was the reply.

Jack was considerably disappointed; but before giving up this line of investigation he determined to study the freight records of the station, to discover whether any freight for the two places mentioned by Alex had passed through Midway. A few minutes' search produced the record of a valuable shipment of silk to Claxton. A moment later he found another.

When presently he found still others, and several to Eastfield, he hurried back to the wire and calling Alex asked the nature of the goods lost track of at those stations, and breathlessly awaited the reply.

"I'll ask," said Alex--"Silverware and silk. Mostly silk."

Jack uttered a shout. "Hurrah, Alex," he whirred, "I'm on the track of our friend the 'ghost.' But keep mum.

"And now the question is," he told himself, leaning back in his chair, "how do they work it?"

The answer to the query came very unexpectedly as Jack left the station office at daybreak. Strolling down the front platform, where several men already were at work unloading a car, he inadvertently got in the way of a loaded truck. On the sudden cry of the truckman he sprang aside, tripped, and fell headlong against a large, square packing-case. As he did so, he distinctly heard from within a sharp "Oh!"

Only with difficulty did Jack avoid crying out, and scrambling to his feet, hastened away, that his discovery might not be suspected by the man in the box.

The whole mystery was now clear. The "ghost" was a freight thief, who had himself shipped, in a box, to some point which would necessitate his being transferred and held over night at the freight junction. He played "ghost" either to frighten the operator away, or to lead to the belief that any noises overheard were caused by "spirits," then overhauled the valuable freight in the shed, took what he wanted with him into his own box (which supposedly he could open and close from the inside), and was shipped away with it the following morning. The rifled packages, carefully re-sealed, also went on to their several destinations, and the blame of the theft was laid elsewhere.

Jack was not long in deciding upon his next move. Coming down from the boarding-house before the sheds had been closed that afternoon, he noted where the box containing the unsuspected human freight had been placed, and selecting a window at the far end of the shed, seized a favorable moment to quietly loosen its catch.

It was near midnight, and Jack was once more the sole guardian of the station when he took the next step. And despite a certain nervousness, now that the exciting moment was at hand, he found considerable amusement in carrying it out.

It was nothing less than making up a dummy imitation of himself asleep on a cot in a corner of the telegraph room--as a precaution against the "ghost" peering within to learn the effect of his "haunting."

In making the dummy Jack used a brown fur cap for the head, a glimpse of which under an old hat looked remarkably like his own brown head. A collection of old overalls and record books carefully arranged formed the body, and his own shoes the feet.

When over the whole he threw his overcoat, the deception was complete. Chuckling at the subterfuge, Jack lost no time in slipping forth for the next step in his program.

Tiptoeing down the platform to the window whose latch he had loosened, he softly raised it, listened, and climbing through, dropped noiselessly to the floor. Feeling his way in the darkness amid the bales and boxes, he reached a nook behind a piano-case he had previously noted, and settling down, prepared to await the appearance of the "spectre."

The wait was not long. Scarcely had he made himself comfortable when from the direction of the big packing-case came the muffled sound of a screw-driver. Soon there followed a noise as of a board being softly shoved aside, then a step on the floor. Simultaneously there was the crackle of a match, and peering forth Jack momentarily made out a thin, clean-shaven face bending over a dark-lantern. But quickly he drew back with a start of fright as the man turned and came directly toward him.

A few feet away, however, the intruder halted, and again peering cautiously forth Jack discovered the lantern, closely muffled, on the floor, and beside it the dim figure of the man working with his hands at a plank. As Jack watched, wondering, the plank came up. Laying it aside carefully, the stranger stepped down into the opening, recovered the lantern, and disappeared.

"Now what under the sun is he up to?" exclaimed Jack to himself.

From the platform outside came the sound of footsteps. Jack started, listened a moment, and uttered a low cry of triumph. At last he understood.

"Well, what a dolt I am," he laughed. "Why didn't I think of that?

"The fellow is simply out beneath the platform, making sounds against the under side of the planking--probably with a stick!"

JACK MADE OUT A THIN, CLEAN-SHAVEN FACE BENDING OVER A DARK-LANTERN.

Jack was still chuckling delightedly over this simple explanation of the mysterious "walking" when the noise ceased, and the light of the lantern returned.

On reappearing, the unknown dragged after him a long pole. As Jack watched, puzzling over its use, the "spectre" hoisted the pole to his shoulder, cautiously picked his way amid the freight to the telegraph-room partition, and mounted a large box.

And then, while Jack fairly shook with internal laughter, he laboriously raised the pole, and began bumping and scraping it up and down the under side of the roof.

"Natural explanations!" bubbled Jack through his handkerchief. "And imagine anyone being frightened at it--beating it for home!"

When the man on the box had concluded his second "demonstration," and descended, Jack had cause to thank himself for his precaution in leaving the dummy. Evidently puzzled at the silence in the operating-room, the man placed his eye to the knot-hole in the partition, and peered through. Muttering something in surprise, he listened closely, and looked again, while Jack looked on, shaking, and holding his mouth. Apparently at last satisfied that the "operator" within was asleep at his post, the intruder turned about and threw a shaft of light up toward the wires of the loop. Expectantly Jack waited. Had he also guessed right here?

But to his disappointment, after a brief debate with himself, the "ghost" muttered, "If he's asleep, what's the use?" And catching up the pole, he returned it to the hole in the floor, and replaced the plank.

Then, in final confirmation of Jack's deductions, the intruder turned his attention to the packages of merchandise about him, speedily selected a box, and proceeded to open it.

For several hours the unsuspecting freight robber worked, frequently returning to the crack in the partition to assure himself that the negligent "operator" there was still in the land of dreams, each time to Jack's great amusement. And finally, having secured all the booty he could handle, and having carefully closed the cases from which it had been taken, he moved the plunder into his own box, crept in after; again came the squeak of the screw-driver--and the robbery was complete.

At once Jack crept from his place of concealment, and back to the window; dropped out, and was off on the run for the boarding-house. And twenty minutes after he returned with the freight-house foreman and several freight hands, armed, and with lanterns.

Entering by the door, he led them directly to the robber's box.

Sharply the foreman kicked at it, and called, "Hello, in there! Your little game is up, my friend! Come out!"

There was no response, and he drew his revolver. "Open up quick, or I'll shoot!"

"Oh, all right! All right!" cried a muffled voice hurriedly.

The next moment the Midway Junction "ghost" stepped grimly from his box, and stood before them.

"But look here, youngster," ticked the chief despatcher, who some minutes later followed Alex Ward on the wire in congratulating Jack on the solution of the mystery, "don't you talk too much about this business, or first thing you know they'll be taking you from the telegraph force, and adding you to the detective department. We want you ourselves."

"No fear," laughed Jack. "I might try a matter like this once in a while, but I want to work up as an operator, not a detective."

"You'll work up OK," declared the chief.