When we reached that point in the lane closest to the bridge, our driver reined in the bay and helped us down from our seats. Holmes requested Dandy Jack to accompany us, and he secured the horse's reins to a tree and caught up quick enough as we made our way across pastureland to the bridge. Holmes followed the roadbed under the overpass, his eyes surveying the span above us, and then we were on the other side. My friend seemed to be measuring the distance from the tracks to the top of the overpass and then he cast his eye around the open ground surrounding us on both sides. In the season this portion was tilled and for this reason Holmes spied what he was looking for. It was a straight length of wood that was quite dead and tapered at one end. Formerly a beanpole, no doubt, that had been thrown aside because of the brittleness of the old wood. Evidently it would serve Holmes' purpose, for he secured it and brought it to the point of the roadbed directly under the edge of the overpass. Measuring with his eyes, he whipped a handkerchief from the pocket of his traveling ulster and tied it to the pole. Needless to say, Dandy Jack and I were regarding him with some mystification.
As he righted the pole under the bridge, he did offer an explanation. 'From here to the handkerchief represents the height of the boxcar from the ground.'
'What about the armored cubicle?' I exclaimed, with a sudden idea as to what he was about.
'That does not figure in my calculations.' Holmes indicated for Dandy Jack to hold the pole in the position he had placed it and stepped back, his eye swiveling from the handkerchief to the top of the bridge. 'Hmmmm, about seven feet to the under portion of the span and another five feet to the parapet of the bridge. A bit more distance than I had figured, but it could be done.'
Positioning himself directly underneath the edge of the bridge, he marched down the track with his measured stride for a short distance. He then stopped, turned, and gazed at the top of the bridge, nodding in seeming satisfaction. Returning, Holmes gestured for Dandy Jack to lower the pole, and he retrieved his handkerchief from it.
'Is that the shortest way to the bridge?' he asked, indicating a sharp slope to the south of the tracks.
Openmouthed, our driver nodded.
'But a moment, gentlemen, and I will rejoin you,' said the sleuth, making for the hillside. As he swarmed up the incline with no apparent difficulty, Dandy Jack sidled over toward me, all the while watching Holmes' figure with a somewhat alarmed expression.
''E don't say much, does 'e?'
'On the contrary, he can be quite loquacious,' I replied with, I fear, the smugness of one dealing with a familiar subject. 'It's just that he's a bit hard to understand,' I added.
'That I can believe,' the man growled.
'It is all very plain to him,' I exclaimed somewhat defensively.
Dandy Jack's grin came to the rescue of his bafflement. ''Tis glad I am, sir, that it's plain to someone.'
This seemed to cover the subject and we remained silent until Holmes returned shortly thereafter. I noted, with envy, that he was not even breathing deeply.
'Back to the carriage, lads,' he ordered, and there was a pleased expression on his usually inscrutable features. Dandy Jack and I followed the sleuth's long strides. When we reached the four-wheeler, Holmes had a question. 'How close can you get us to the spur line?'
'Iffen I goes 'round by the old mine, I can drive right to the end of it,' was Dandy Jack's reply.
'Capital. The junction of the feeder line with the main track has little to tell us,' said Holmes.
'First time I knew rail track could tell me anythin',' said Jack, and promptly lapsed into silence. I sensed there was something about Holmes that made him nervous.
Our route involved a number of turns and the gentle curves that country roads are prone to have, and I completely lost any sense of direction. When we arrived at a cleared area with several boarded-up and dilapidated wooden buildings, a rail bed that ended at a sizeable pile of boulders relocated my directional bug. The spur line went in a straight northeast direction, placing the main line in my mind. The clearing had been hewn from a heavily timbered area, and already second growth was making a considerable showing. A small hill close to the end of tracks was studded with rocky outcroppings and there was a sizeable opening in its side, now shielded by loose rock. This had to be the abandoned tin mine.
While Holmes was busy scrutinizing the ground around the termination point of the spur line, I walked closer to the mine entrance. It seemed that wooden supports within had finally given up the ghost. Action of rain and weather had resulted in a cave-in at the mouth of the digging. A small boy might have worked his way within, but I certainly could not, nor did I wish to, for another shifting of the hillside might have entombed me. I was glad to rejoin Holmes, who had straightened from the semi-crouch in which he had been inspecting the area. Words were unnecessary. His manner told me that any clue that might have been seduced by his uncanny powers of observation into a thin thread of revelation and thence into fabric for a garment of truth had been taken or trampled by the heavy-footed minions of the law who preceded us to this spot.
Never at a loss in finding other avenues of investigation, Holmes brought his attention to bear on Dandy Jack, he being the expert on the locale. 'The boxcar was found right at the end of track?' he asked that worthy.
An affirmative nod was the reply.
'An uncanny bit of figuring,' said the sleuth, and then chose to confide in our driver. 'The boxcar with the gold was separated from the rest of the train on the upgrade. Gravity caused it to roll backward, picking up enough speed to carry it to the spur line and then right here. How far would you say?' he asked, regarding Dandy Jack intently.
'Good half mile.' Drawn into the recreation, the man contributed another thought after a moment. 'If the freight carrier was goin' a mite fast, those rocks would have stopped it.' He indicated the boulders I had noted earlier. 'Though I don't recall a mention of one end bein' bunged in. There's a slight downgrade in the spur line, which you've noticed.'
Holmes indicated that he had.
'They could ha' levered her here had they wished. A coupla stout timbers would ha' done it.'
'And stout backs.' My friend seemed dissatisfied. 'But why when they could just as well have driven the wagon to wherever it stopped? It was a wagon, wasn't it?'
His keen eyes had never left Dandy Jack.
'Aye. Iron-tired wheels. The tracks was plain when the railroad police and Constable Sindelar got here from Brent.'
'You heard about it.' Holmes' statement had the overtones of a question.
'I come later to 'ave a peek. 'Twas but one wagon, two horses.'
'It was a heavy load. All right, Jack, what would you have done with half a million in gold ingots?'
'Different from them, it would have been. A wagonload of hay outward-bound in one direction. Some feed bags in another. The safest of the lot, a load of manure, taking a third route.'
'With gold ingots riding under the loads,' said the sleuth, nodding as if in agreement with this idea. 'Might they not have done that? Divided the booty further along the line?' Holmes then suggested.
Dandy Jack's denial was firm. 'There was not that much traffic at the time. I know pretty much everybody hereabout. Iffen it was outsiders, somebody would have noticed them.'
'There were no locals involved. You're sure of that?'
'Very sure, Mr. Holmes.' This was the only time Dandy Jack used my friend's name and a flicker in his guarded eyes showed that he regretted it. There was no reaction from my friend at this breech of etiquette. Rather, he seemed prepared to accept Dandy Jack's statement.
'Then how did they do it with but one wagon?'
Our driver shrugged. ''Tis a point that's puzzled me.'
'From a professional standpoint,' said Holmes dryly.
Suddenly the sleuth whirled and set out toward the main line, his long strides eating up distance. Dandy Jack and I looked at each other for a moment questioningly, and then I shrugged and followed in Holmes' footsteps with our driver by my side. My judgment of distance is faulty, but it seemed like less than a quarter of a mile hike to the main line, where we found Holmes inspecting the junction point with his magnifying glass. Arising, he brushed off his knees. A look at Dandy Jack evidently carried a message and the man secured a metal bar from a wooden box beside the track. Using it, he activated the switching mechanism and I noted the iron tracks shift. Holmes reached down with a finger and straightened to rub it against his thumb.
'Well oiled, but they would do that.'
