Chapter XVII

INTO ANGRY WATERS
★

Bob ached in every muscle and he wondered, as he lay there on the trestle with the rain beating down on him, if the dangers of being a federal agent were worth the rewards. Then he swept that thought aside. Of course it was worth it, for he was on the side of right and honor—a side for which many a sacrifice could be willingly made.

As he lay on the bridge, trying to rally his senses and waiting for enough strength to flow back through his body to enable him to sit up, Bob’s eyes became more accustomed to the rain and the night. He tried to pick out the form of Hamsa, who must be close to him, for the other man had been underneath when they fell. The shock had been severe enough for Bob and he wondered if the other had been seriously injured.

Finally Bob’s straining eyes picked out the form of the other man. He was some feet away and beyond the outside rail of the trestle—on the very edge of the bridge where a false move would plunge him into the rushing waters below.

Bob tried to move, but he was still too weak and Hamsa was a dozen feet away. He wanted to reach him and pull him away from the edge.

Someone at the end of the bridge was shouting and Bob turned his head to see a group of trainmen, lanterns in their hands, making their way out on the long trestle. They were coming cautiously for the long rain had made the timbers slippery and treacherous.

As the trainmen moved out on the bridge, Bob’s eyes went back to Hamsa. To his surprise the other man was moving, struggling to sit up, and Bob called out a warning.

“Don’t move, Hamsa!” he ordered. “You’re under arrest. Stay where you are or you’ll fall off the bridge.”

There was no reply from the other, but he continued his struggle to sit up and Bob tried to drag himself closer to the man he had placed under arrest. There was no strength left in his own arms or legs and he could go only a foot or two.

The glow from the lanterns of the approaching trainmen now penetrated the blackness and Bob could see Hamsa’s face turned toward him.

“You’re clever, Kid,” growled the other, “but you’re not going to arrest me this time. I’ll see you later and when I do, watch out!”

Then the other turned and deliberately rolled to the edge of the trestle.

“Hamsa, you’re under arrest!” cried Bob. But he knew the words were futile for the only reply was a mocking laugh. Then Hamsa disappeared over the edge and seconds later there was the dull splash of a heavy body striking the water. Bob thought he heard the mocking laugh once more, but he couldn’t be sure.

Then the trainmen, led by the conductor, reached the scene.

“Where’s the other fellow?” demanded the conductor.

Bob pointed to the darkness below.

“He just rolled over the edge,” he said.

The startled conductor went to the edge of the trestle and swung his lantern over the side, but only the rush of dark waters could be seen.

“That’s the last you’ll see of him,” he said. “This stream is on a rampage and only a powerful man could get to shore.”

Bob nodded, but he was not sure about the conductor’s surmise that he had seen the last of Hamsa for he was both a powerful and resourceful man.

The trainmen helped Bob to his feet and assisted him back to the Limited.

“I guess now you’ll be content to go to bed and give us a little rest,” said the conductor when Bob reached his own berth.

“I’ve got to get off a telegram first,” replied Bob. “Give me the name of that stream and the correct time.”

The conductor supplied the information and Bob wrote a brief report of the night’s events and addressed it to Waldo Edgar, the chief of the division of investigation back in Washington.

“See that this message is dispatched at the first stop,” said Bob. Then he turned, crawled between the crisp, cool sheets, and dropped into a deep sleep of exhaustion.