Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE PURPLE LIMITED. “ Hey, Lark—going dewn to the end of ‘Wan sprang from a chair, spat on a worn carpet, and called above the clicking in- struments : ‘“‘ Come in, Lark!” Lark went .into the division superinten- dent’s office, and closed the door. J. J. D. snapped a silk sleeve-holder, leaned in the chair, and exclaimed: “ There’s been a warning sent out to all division points about the Purple Limited! Go down to the end of the yard and keep your eyes open for hoboes.” ‘All right!” said Lark. ' Jj. J. D. thrust forward his elbows and jerked up his sleeves. ‘Watch the water-tank!” he cautioned. “‘ See that nobody gets on the blind bag- gage. There’s a shipment in gold aboard the Limited to-night. She'll be along any minute, now!” =~ CHAPTER II. THE MISSING TRAIN. ARK hurried from J. J. D.’s office to light his lantern on the station plat- form. Orders were expected to be obeyed on the C. M. and W. The Purple Limited was the fastest thing in the middle West. The Limited, once the crack train on the line, had been reduced to an Atlantic-type loco, and one or two armored express cars during the period of a coal strike at the anthracite mines not far from Cotopaxi. J. J. D., a home man with a charming, gushing wife, was responsible for the safety of the Purple Limited while on his division. The Limited, running light, skipped the division station at Newhouse, but stopped at the water-tank at the west end of the yard for water. Lark reviewed these facts as he plunged through the snow in the direction of the water-tank. The line was clear, although there seemed to be a whine in the rails that denoted an approaching train. He brought up standing where the street crossed the tracks behind the last gondola cars. Mike Ragan, a railroad detective, leomed from the direction of the lunch- wagon. 549 the yard?” . ‘Yes! J. J. D.’s orders!” “That ‘ll save me a walk. Watch and see that nobody climbs on the blind of ‘the -Purple Limited. I’m supposed to do it—~ but God! My feet are wet!” Ragan was never a man-to see romance in the rails or glory in escorting an occa- siona] tramp to the jail at Newhouse. He generally idled with a partner, Joe Rear- don, who was laid up with rheumatism. Lark looked east. “All right,” he said, shifting his lantern. “ I’H see that nobody gets aboard the Limited.” Ragan ran a thick finger around the in- side of a wet collar. will be th’ death ov me!” he blurted. ‘““ Every night I watch it. Who’s going to try to rob an armored car? Why, th’ safes haven’t got any combinations. You couldn’t open them with a pile-driver.” “J. J. D.’s worried.” ‘““ Aw, he’s always worried! It’s a hell- ova job. Nothin’ but trouble. An’ he’s got a wife that is some spender—beheve me.” | Lark moved away from the burly form of the detective, and started along the track. He reached a switch, and turned. There rang in the rails the metallic whine of a fast train’s approach. A white sliver of dazzling light lifted above the dark out- lines of the station platform at Newhouse —stabbed through the overhead pall, and dropped to the road-bed. It bathed the lower yard with searching fire. It brought out details of the freight-cars. on the sidings and the far-off water-tank. Lark sprang aside. He stood holding his lantern and cap when the Purple Limited roared by. He caught a glimpse of a tow- ering loco-boiler, a fireman on the apron between the engine and the tender, and a single, purple-painted express-car without windows or openings save a small, sealed door. | The Limited was gone in a swirling rush of snow flakes. It stopped at the water- tank. A shower of white sparks struck from the brake-shoes. It was off down the road again—tunneling the night like a crimson comet. COMICLOO ‘““ That damn train S CO