Under Orders: The story of a young reporter

All these thoughts flashed through the young reporter’s mind in a minute, and they were followed by another.

“Was he not under orders as well as the boys of the 50th? Did not his duty order him to make an effort to warn them of their danger? Of course it did; and the orders of duty, when given as plainly as in this case, ought to be obeyed as promptly as those of a city editor. What a splendid thing it would be, too, if he only could get there in time! It was certainly worth trying for, and he would make the attempt.”

Stepping softly from his bed he went to the window. What was to hinder him from leaving the cabin this way? One leg was already over the sill, and the other was about to follow, when a deep growl from just beneath the window caused him to hurriedly draw back. Tige was on guard.

Then Myles listened at the door. The men were still talking. Why not walk boldly out and announce his intended departure? No, that would never do. They might take it into their heads to stop him, and they were three to one.

The sound of moving chairs sent him flying back to the bed, where, to all appearances, he was instantly fast asleep.

“Well, Bill, it’s time for us to be off,” said one of the men. “Trot out your stuff and let us make a start.”

“There isn’t another drop in the house,” answered Bill, “and I reckon you’ll have to go up to the still with me and get it.”

“All right; but you’d better take a look at that young feller in the other room first.”

Bill looked in, and a single glance satisfied him that his guest was as oblivious of his surroundings as before.

“It’s all right,” he said. “He’s good to sleep till sun-up, and I’ll leave Tige to watch him. That dog won’t let any one leave the house any more than he’d let ’em get in when I ain’t round. He’s a bully old bull-dog, Tige is, and no one don’t want to trifle with his affections.”

Then the three men, taking a lantern with them, left the cabin, and Myles listened until their voices died away in the distance. Tige had been ordered to stay behind, and he obeyed orders. Myles went to the open window, and the bull-dog growled at him. He went to the door, and found Tige already watching in front of it. Here was a pretty fix: caged by a dog, and so much depending upon his liberty! Myles had a great mind to rush out and fight the dog, but he did not at all fancy the undertaking, nor was he at all certain how such a fight would result.

“If it were only a man,” he thought, “I’d risk it quick enough.”

All at once a bright thought flashed into his mind. Dogs were always hungry. Part of his supper had been cut from a large ham that hung by the fireplace. Striking a match, he easily found it. He took it to the back window. Tige was there. The next moment the ham had been flung in the direction of his growl, and he was worrying it.

Then, still in his stocking feet, with his shoes in his hand, the reporter stole softly to the front-door which he had left unlatched, and slipped out into the darkness. For five minutes he hardly dared breathe, as he cautiously felt his way among the rocks and stumps. At the end of that time he found a sort of road leading in the direction he wished to take. After overcoming many difficulties he reached the railroad. Two hours later he was once more at Mountain Junction, having safely passed three bridges by crawling on his hands and knees over the railway-ties.

It was now daylight, and another hour would see the sun rise. What should he do next? To whom should he turn for help? As Myles asked himself these questions he was challenged by the guard at the railway station. The reporter asked that the corporal might be summoned, as he had important information for him.

The corporal was tired, sleepy, and cross. He had heard nothing from Lieutenant Easter, or those who had gone with him, and would not believe it when Myles told him they were all prisoners in the hands of the strikers. No, he could not, and he would not if he could, do any thing to help the 50th Regiment. He did not care whether they got there or not. Let them look out for themselves if they were so smart as they claimed to be. Yes, Myles might take the hand-car and go out to meet them if he wanted to, but he would be a fool for his pains, and would probably come to grief. The town was surrounded by strikers, who had sworn not to let any one out or in until their difficulty with the company was settled. They would stop the hand-car before it got a mile. Even if they did not, the railroad to the eastward was probably in such a condition that nothing on wheels could pass over it. Did he know where the telegraph operator could be found? No, he had not seen the operator for twenty-four hours, and did not believe he was in town.

So, despairing of obtaining any assistance, the young reporter decided to start off alone, do his best, and get as far as he could. Fortune might favor him. At any rate, the object for which he was striving was worth a desperate effort.

The hand-car that he and the operator had used on their trip was where they left it, except that it had been lifted from the track and set to one side. The corporal and the man on guard, with much grumbling at the foolishness of Myles’ undertaking, helped him place it on the rails. Then he started off alone.

The car moved slowly out of the railroad yard, but by the time it reached the town limits it was rattling along at such a speed as only the muscular young arms of the best man in a university crew could give it. It had gone fast on that other trip. Was it days or weeks before? Myles tried to remember, but could not. The recent rush of events had completely driven dates from his mind. At any rate, though the car seemed to go fast on that occasion, it had only crept as compared with now. Its speed on that long stretch of down-grade was simply tremendous. It was also wildly exhilarating. But for the breathlessness of his exertions Myles would have shouted and yelled in his excitement.

“Faster, faster!” rang out the whirring wheels as they spun over the gleaming track, and “Faster, faster, faster!” echoed the rails of steel.

The eastern sky was aglow with rosy light. The sun had nearly climbed to the mountain tops. Still he might be in time. If only he could get on a little faster! If only his muscles were steel and his lungs filled with steam!

But what is that ahead? A dark space in the shining track. A rail gone. Myles sprang to the brake. Its iron shoe ground fire from the iron wheel. The headlong speed of the car was slackened, but not enough. It could not stop before the danger-point was reached. Then came a crash, and Myles was flung forward on the hard road-bed.

Bruised and sadly shaken, but with unbroken bones, he picked himself up and turned to look at the wreck. The car also seemed shaken, but, to his surprise, it was still whole and serviceable. There was yet hope if he only could get it over this place and again on the track. His excitement lent him strength, and by a mighty effort he accomplished that which, under ordinary circumstances, two men would have found difficult.

Once more the car was ready for its onward flight. As it started Myles heard shouts, and, looking back, saw men running and beckoning to him. At the same moment he heard the far-away whistle of a locomotive ahead of him. He bent to the crank, and in another minute his pursuers lost sight of the car and the one straining figure that it bore.

Now it approached the Horseshoe curve. Yes, Myles remembered the place perfectly. The track looked all right. The sun had risen and he could see the line plainly. Perhaps the place from which the rails were torn was the trap, and he had passed it. Perhaps he was on hand and with time to spare.

Suddenly the rails of the track seemed to give from under him. The car plunged forward, turned completely over, and crushed poor Myles beneath it in such a manner that he was powerless to move. As he lay there he heard, loud, clear, and close at hand, the shrill whistle and the roar of an approaching train.

CHAPTER XV.

THE 50TH REGIMENT, N. G. S. N. Y

THE speed at which Myles was going when the accident happened was so great that both he and the hand-car were flung clear off the track. They landed in a pile of soft earth, but, as already related, Myles lay beneath the car with his arms so pinned down by it that he was perfectly helpless and unable to move. As he lay there half-stunned, and panting for breath after his recent exertions, the roar of the approaching train grew louder and louder, until it seemed close upon him. He could hear the labored puffing of the locomotive as it toiled up the long grade. Now it came so distinctly that he knew the head of the train had rounded the sharp curve and was in sight of the place where he lay.

Oh for one moment of liberty in which to spring up and warn them of the danger so close at hand! Where were their eyes? Could they not see the wreck of his car and be warned by it? Was he too late after all? Would the train keep on until it, too, struck the treacherous rails that, with every spike drawn, had spread beneath him?

In this agony of helpless apprehension the seconds seemed minutes and the minutes hours. Suddenly came the short, imperative blast of the whistle that said as plainly as words, “Danger ahead! Down brakes!” It was instantly followed by the grinding sound of the powerful air-brakes, and in another moment the train had stopped not fifty feet from where Myles lay.

He was in time. His “fool-hardiness,” as the corporal at Mountain Junction had termed it, had prevailed, and the long train, with its precious human freight, was safe. With a great sigh of relief the burden of anxiety that he had borne for hours passed from him. He became aware of a feeling of faintness, and wearily closed his eyes.

He did not lose consciousness, for he heard a voice exclaim:

“Hello! here’s a man under this car.”

“Well, get him out,” said another, with a sharp tone of authority. “He is probably one of the rascally strikers who planned this mischief, and then got caught in his own trap. Carry him to the baggage-car and see that he does not get away. I will investigate his case directly. Now look lively here with those spikes and hammers.”

Myles was lifted by half a dozen active young fellows clad in a close-fitting gray uniform and carried back to the train, where he was laid on the floor of the baggage-car, with his head on a roll of blankets. Even as they started with him he heard the ringing blows of the spike-hammers, and almost as soon as they laid him down the loosened rails were securely re-fastened and the train was ready to proceed.

Myles was surprised to find that he did not suffer any pain denoting broken bones. He wondered if he were able to sit up, and, by trying, found that he was. In short, with the exception of feeling stiff and sore and bruised, and lame in every joint, he was all right. He was only a little shaky, and he next proceeded to stand up to assure himself that he could do that also. Here the gray-jacketed soldier who guarded him concluded that his prisoner was getting altogether too active, and sternly ordered him to sit still and keep quiet.

Myles looked at him with indignant amazement. Was this the kind of treatment a fellow had to expect in return for risking his own life and limbs to save those of these chaps? He was about to express himself pretty forcibly on the subject, when the car door was opened and a soldierly-looking man, with an iron-gray mustache and wearing the eagles of a colonel on his shoulder-straps, entered. The guard presented arms and the colonel touched his cap in acknowledgment of the salute. Then stepping briskly up to Myles he said:

“Well, sir, who are you? and what is the meaning of all this? Do you know that you have committed a State-prison offense, and that hanging would be no more than you deserve?”

“What is my offense?” asked Myles, quietly, still sitting on the roll of blankets.

“Don’t bandy words with me, sir; but answer my questions at once. Who are you?”

Myles gazed calmly into the colonel’s face, but remained silent.

“Will you answer me, sir, or will you not?” cried the colonel, flushing angrily beneath the other’s steady stare.

“Perhaps I will and perhaps I will not,” replied Myles, whose very calmness betrayed the tumult of his feelings. “It depends entirely upon what authority you can show for asking them, and the manner in which they are put. So long as you see fit to insult me I shall only answer you with silence.”

The audacity of this speech fairly took away the colonel’s breath, and he stared at Myles in speechless amazement. Before he could recover himself the car door again opened. The figure that entered this time was not clad in uniform, but the guard allowed it to pass without hesitation.

Turning, and recognizing the new-comer, the colonel exclaimed:

“Here is a case that will interest you, sir. It will make a capital paragraph for your paper. Of all the strikers, train-wreckers, and other rascally characters I ever met this one has the most monumental impudence and brazen assurance. Why, what do you think – ”

But the colonel never finished his remark, for Myles, who had gained his feet, here interrupted him with:

“Hello, Billings, old man!”

“Am I a Dutchman or am I not!” cried Billings, for it was indeed he, as he sprang past the colonel and grasped his friend’s hand. “The voice is that of Myles Manning, while the face and general get-up is that of a mud-lark. What are you doing here? and what is the meaning of this melancholy aspect?”

“That is what this military gentleman with the unfortunate manner has been trying to find out,” replied Myles, with a grim smile.

“Military gentleman? Unfortunate manner?” repeated Billings, in a perplexed tone. “Perhaps there is some misunderstanding between you two. Colonel Pepper, allow me to present my friend, Mr. Manning, of the Phonograph. Colonel Pepper is in command of the 50th Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y. X. Z., etc., and, if I do say it to his face, as I shouldn’t, is one of the best fellows to be found outside of a newspaper office.”

“A friend of yours, did you say, Mr. Billings?” asked the colonel, doubtfully.

“Of course he is, and, what is more, a fellow-reporter. Why, he is out here doing the strike for the Phono.”

“Well, Mr. Manning,” said the colonel, heartily, and extending his hand, “I sincerely beg your pardon for mistaking you for a striker – and a mischievous one at that – and treating you accordingly. But why in the name of common-sense didn’t you disclose your identity at once?”

“Partly because you didn’t give me a chance, sir, and partly because I felt hurt – ”

“Felt hurt!” interrupted Billings, to whom the conversation seemed to be taking altogether too serious a tone. “Well, your feelings must correspond with your looks then. For a more torn, tattered, battered, mud-bespattered, blood-stained, and generally seedy-looking individual than you are at this moment I never saw.”

“Then you consider me excusable for mistaking Mr. Manning for a striker?” asked the colonel, with a smile.

“Excusable, colonel? Certainly I do! You would be excusable for mistaking him for any thing, from a relation to a politician,” answered Billings, laughing. “But, look here, Manning, you haven’t told us a word yet of how you happened to be a total wreck out here in the woods. I heard something about a car off the track and a striker found under it, but I was eating a sort of a make-believe ham-sandwich breakfast just then. We have stopped so often for wrecked cars and missing rails that I didn’t consider it worth while to let up on the Sam Handwich just to look after it. Thus I only just this moment found time to come and spy out the villain, and, behold, you are he.”

“Your mention of missing rails,” said Myles, “reminds me that two are gone from the track just about where we now are. I passed over the place not half an hour ago.”

“Then excuse me for a moment,” said the colonel, while I go and order a sharp lookout.”

As he left the car the locomotive uttered its warning call for brakes. In another minute the train was at a stand-still, and several men were stripping off their clothing preparatory to diving in the stream alongside the track to search for the missing rails.

“That’s the way it goes,” sighed Billings, resignedly. “We’ve done nothing but make tracks for the last two days. But come, old man, now’s the chance to spin your yarn; out with it. All communications with a stamp enclosed regarded as strictly confidential, you understand.”

So Myles told his story in as few words as possible, beginning with the capture of Lieutenant Easter’s command and ending with his own thrilling ride of that morning.

As he finished Billings sprang to his feet, and, seizing his friend’s hand, shook it warmly, exclaiming with a seriousness unusual to him:

“My dear fellow, you are a perfect trump; a full-fledged hero – with wings and tail-feathers well developed! And to think that these duffers should have taken you for a striker after what you did for them. It’s no wonder you look tough after what you’ve gone through; but it’s an honorable toughness, and every splotch of mud on your face is honorable mud. You just wait till I tell the boys of the 50th what a Phonograph reporter has done for them. If they don’t give you three fizz-booms and a Bengal tiger, then I’m a brass monkey, that’s all.”

“Oh, no,” protested Myles, “don’t tell them. It isn’t any thing to make a fuss about.”

“Isn’t it? Well, we’ll just give the boys a chance to express an opinion about that,” laughed Billings, with a touch of his old drawling manner as he left the car.

Myles still remained in the baggage-car, and the guard posted there when he was first brought in, but not yet relieved, now stepped up to him and said in a manly fashion:

“I could not help overhearing what you were talking about just now, Mr. Manning, and, if you will let me, I shall be proud to shake hands with you. It isn’t every day that I meet with the fellow who is willing to risk his own life for mine, and when I do I like to know him.”

What Billings told of his exploits Myles never knew, but while he was shaking hands with his guard the car door flew open and the “boys” came rushing in. Privates and men with shoulder-straps, all were eager for a look at and a word with the Phonograph reporter who had rendered them so great a service that morning.

They crowded the car almost to suffocation, and still not a tenth part of those who wished to get in could do so. Everybody wanted to shake hands with him. Everybody wanted in some way to thank him. Among them were several old X – College men, proud to claim him as a fellow. They had been proud of Myles Manning, captain of the ’Varsity crew; now they were still prouder of Myles Manning, the Phonograph reporter.

Poor Myles was overwhelmed and bewildered. He knew not what to say nor how to act. His embarrassment was becoming painful, when way was made for the colonel. He said:

“Come, boys, this will do for the present. Clear out now and give the brave fellow room to breathe. The 50th shall have a chance to show him what they feel on this subject, I give you my word on it.”

When the last one had gone the colonel turned to Myles, and said:

“Mr. Manning, it would be useless for me to attempt to thank you for your splendid action this morning, either on my own behalf or that of the regiment I have the honor to command. There are no words to express such a gratitude as we feel. What you did any soldier might be proud to have done, and its results will follow you through life. You have within an hour made a thousand life-long friends. Now, sir, if you will honor the 50th by becoming its guest we shall be proud to entertain you as such during our stay in this part of the country.”

Myles had no idea of what he said in reply to these kind words; but it must have been the right thing, for the colonel thanked him and seemed much pleased.

Then the whistle announced their approach to Mountain Junction, and the colonel, exacting a promise from Myles that he would not leave the car until he came for him, bowed and hurried away.

The town that had been so silent and deserted when Myles left it a few hours before was now filled with people, and a great crowd of sullen-faced strikers, grimy miners, men, women, and children, were gathered about the railway-station to witness the arrival of the famous New York regiment. As the train rolled slowly up to the station it presented a fine sight, and one calculated to impress the boldest strikers as a picture of disciplined force that was not to be trifled with.

The locomotive seemed covered with erect, resolute-looking young fellows in gray. They stood thick on the running-boards. They crowded the cab, and each held his musket in a sturdy grasp, with its gleaming bayonet pointed at an angle downward. The enemy need be many and bold who would dare charge that thick-set hedge of prickly steel. Each platform of every car in the long train was guarded in a similar manner. It was, as Billings, who had returned to the baggage-car, quaintly expressed it to Myles, “A sign that read, ‘No boarders need apply.’”

Through the open windows the crowd could see that every seat was filled with men in gray, each grasping a ready musket. It was fearful to imagine what a withering, death-dealing sheet of flame and storm of bullets might in an instant leap from those open windows at a single word of command. The crowd instinctively recoiled from them, and a great silence fell upon it.

As the train stopped a squad of men sprang from each car and cleared spaces in which the companies might form. Then the gray columns poured forth quietly, steadily, and without a break until the ten companies were full and the regiment stood in line, rigid, motionless, and expectant.

When all was in readiness the colonel came to the door of the car, from a window of which Myles and Billings had watched the forming troops, and said:

“Now, Mr. Manning, will you let me introduce you to my boys?”

Myles hesitated. He had dared face death in the heat of that exciting race against time; but to face a thousand men was quite another thing.

It was Billings who urged him on by saying:

“Come, old man, don’t keep the music waiting. They’ve got to toot or burst.”

The next moment he found himself standing on the platform beside the colonel, while on that of the adjoining car stood Billings, smiling affably, and evidently prepared to receive any honors that might be showered upon him.

“Men of the 50th,” said the colonel, in a loud, clear voice, that was distinctly heard by every one of those before him, “I have the honor of presenting to you a New York reporter who has rendered to us this day the greatest service one human being may render unto his fellows. His name is – ” the colonel paused, lifted his hand, and with a mighty roar, startling in its suddenness and volume, the thousand throats of the regiment took the words from his mouth and shouted as one man.

“M-y-l-e-s M-a-n-n-i-n-g. Fizz-fizz-fizz, boom-boom-boom, Ti-gah!”

As the great shout rolled away among the listening mountains a sharp word of command rang out, and was echoed from company to company along the whole line. The band struck up “For he’s a jolly good fellow,” and, marching as proudly as though under the eyes of the President of the United States, the superb, glittering regiment passed in review before bruised, ragged, mud-stained Myles Manning. Each company as it passed him presented arms, and the gleaming sword of each officer was raised in salute. It was not until they had all gone by that poor Myles remembered that in his bewilderment he had not acknowledged a single salute.

Billings had, though; and for whatever his fellow-reporter left undone the little man’s appreciative smiles and graceful hat-liftings amply atoned.

CHAPTER XVI.

RECALLED AND DISMISSED

AFTER the unexpected honor shown him by the boys of the 50th, Myles, accompanied by Billings, went to the hotel, where they both enjoyed the luxury of a much-needed bath. When they were ready to dress, Billings, gazing ruefully at his soiled linen, called out to Myles:

“I say, old man, haven’t you got a clean shirt to lend a fellow!”

“Why, yes,” replied Myles, “of course I can lend you one, but – ” here he held out the garment in question, and looked at it doubtfully – “don’t you think it will be a little large for you?”