whom to consult. But he was alone, and on his young shoulders rested a terrible responsibility.
What could he do?
CHAPTER IV
GRANT SAVES THE TRAIN
“I must signal to the engineer in some way,” thought Grant. “How shall I do it?”
He felt in his pocket and found that he had a white handkerchief of large size. He wore a soft felt hat. This he took off, spread the handkerchief over it, and then lifted it in the air on the tines of the pitchfork. Then he sought a place where he might attract the attention of the engineer.
About two hundred feet from the bridge there was a small eminence on one side of the railroad. It was just in front of a curve, and this seemed to Grant the best place to station himself. He posted himself there, raised the pitchfork, and waited anxiously for the train.
By and by he heard the cars approaching. His heart was in his mouth.
“Will they see me?” he asked himself. “If not – ” but he could not bear to think of the alternative.
As the train drew nearer and nearer he began to wave the hat vigorously, shouting at the same time, though he knew that his voice would be drowned by the thunderous noise of the train.
Nearer and nearer came the train. Would it stop?
All at once his heart was filled with joy, for the train began to slow up, and stopped just a little beyond where he was standing.
Grant ran forward till he was abreast with the engine.
“What’s the matter, boy?” demanded the engineer, half inclined to be angry. “If you are playing a trick on me, I’ll give you a good horse-whipping.”
“It’s no trick,” answered Grant earnestly. “The bridge just ahead is broken down.”
“Good Heavens! is this true?”
“Get out and see for yourself.”
The engineer lost no time in following Giant’s advice. He and his young guide walked forward, and he saw that Grant’s information was correct.
“It’s a narrow escape,” he said slowly. “The train would have been wrecked, and by this time in all probability I should have been a dead man.”
By this time a number of passengers, curious to know what had happened, and why the train had stopped so suddenly, got off the cars and advanced to where the engineer stood with Grant at his side.
“What’s the matter,” asked the first man.
“You can see for yourself,” answered the engineer, pointing to the bridge.
“Good Heavens!”
“You’ve been as near death as you probably ever will be without meeting it.”
“And what saved us?”
“This boy,” said the engineer, pointing to Grant. “But for him, some of us would be dead men at this moment.”
Grant blushed, for all eyes were fixed on him.
“It was lucky I was here and discovered the broken bridge,” he said.
“Gentlemen,” said a portly, gray-haired man, a clergyman, “this boy has under Providence been the means of saving our lives. He deserves a reward.”
“So he does! So he does!” exclaimed a dozen men heartily.
“Let me set the example,” and the minister took off his hat and deposited therein a five dollar bill. “I am not a rich man – ministers seldom are – but what I give, I give with all my heart.”
“Here is another!” said the engineer. “I am perhaps under deeper obligations than any one.”
“Let me contribute!” said a sweet-faced old lady, and she dropped another five-dollar bill into the minister’s hat.
Then the passengers generally brought forward their contributions, though some were able to give but a silver coin. There was one notable exception: One man, when he saw what was going forward, quietly shrunk away, and got back into the train.
“Who’s that man,” asked the engineer sharply.
“I know,” said an Irishman, who out of his poverty had given a dollar. “It’s Mr. Leonard Buckley, of New York. He’s worth a million. He is rich enough to buy us all up.”
“No matter how much money he possesses, he is a poor man,” said the minister significantly.
“He’s given all his life is worth to the world,” said a passenger cynically. “When he dies he won’t be missed.”
“And now, my young friend,” said the clergyman to Grant, “let me make over to you this collection of money as a small acknowledgement from the passengers of this train of the great service you have rendered us.”
While the collection was being taken up, Grant stood as if dazed. All had passed so suddenly that he could not realize what it meant. Now he found a voice to speak.
“I don’t think I ought to take it,” he said. “I didn’t do it for money.”
“Of course you didn’t!” said the clergyman. “If you had, your act would have been far less commendable, though it might have been as effective. I think you need not hesitate to take the money.”
“Take it, take it!” said more than one.
So Grant took the hat, and held it awkwardly for a moment, hardly knowing what to do with the contents till some one suggested, “Put it in your own hat!”
Grant did so, and then the engineer went forward to examine the bridge more carefully, and decide what had better be done.
There was no further reason for Grant to remain, and he walked a little distance away and began to count his money. There were one hundred and forty dollars in bills, and about twelve dollars in silver.
“One hundred and fifty-two dollars!” said Grant, elated. “Now,” and his face brightened up, “now I can go to California!”
But what should he do with the money? He felt that it would not be prudent to carry it home, for his step-father would be sure to claim it. He might hide it somewhere, but there was danger that it would be discovered, and lost. Finally, he decided to carry it to Luke Weldon, and ask him to keep it for him for the present. Luke was a poor man, but he was thoroughly honest. There was no one in town who would not sooner have trusted him than Seth Tarbox, though Seth had twenty dollars to his one.
When Grant entered the farm-yard again, Luke looked up with surprise.
“What brings you back, Grant?” he asked.
“I want to ask a favor of you, Mr. Weldon.”
“I am always ready to do you a favor, Grant.”
“Will you keep some money for me?”
Luke Weldon was surprised. He knew pretty
