Ralph of the Roundhouse: or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man

CHAPTER XVIII-A NAME TO CONJURE BY?

Big Denny came to where Ralph was putting the finishing touches to one of the fast runners of the road about ten o'clock one morning.

Nobody in the world enjoyed talk and gossip like the veteran watchman, as Ralph well knew, and it really pleased him to have his company, for among the driftwood of all his desultory confidences Denny usually produced some point interesting or enlightening.

On this especial occasion there was a zest to the old watchman's greeting of the young railroader that indicated he had something of more than ordinary interest to impart.

"By the way, Fairbanks," he observed, "I saw that rich old hunks, Farrington, this morning. He was down here."

"At the roundhouse, you mean?" inquired Ralph, with some interest.

"Well, not exactly. He was over by the switch towers, met Forgan, and had quite a talk with him. Thought I'd post you."

"Why, what about?" asked Ralph.

"He'll be after you, next."

"Not until the first of next month, when the interest is due, I fancy," said Ralph. "I do not think Mr. Farrington has any interest in us outside of his semi-annual interest."

"He'll be nosing around, see if he isn't!" predicted Denny oracularly. "I've got a tip to give you, Fairbanks. I got the point yesterday. There's some talk of running a switch over to Bloomdale. If they do, they'll have to condemn a right of way, along where you live. Word to the wise, eh? nuff said!" and Denny departed, with a significant wink.

Ralph wondered if there was any real basis to Denny's intimation. He fancied it was only one of the rumors constantly floating around about prospective railroad improvements.

That evening, however, Ralph received a suggestion that put him on his guard, if nothing more.

He had gone down town to get some nails for Van, who was building a new chicken coop, when he met Grif Farrington.

"Just looking for you," declared Grif. "I say, Fairbanks, the old man is anxious to see you."

"Your uncle wants to see me?" repeated Ralph incredulously.

"Right away. Asked me to find you and tell you. Business, he says, and important. You couldn't run up to the house now, could you?" he added.

Ralph hesitated-he was suspicious of old Gasper Farrington, and he had no business with him, for it was his mother's province to attend to anything concerning their money dealings, and he did not feel warranted in interfering.

On second thought, however, Ralph decided that they could not know too much of the plots and intentions of Farrington, and he told Grif he would go up to the house at once.

Gasper Farrington lived in a fine old mansion, from parsimony, however, allowed to go to decay, so that all that was really attractive about the place were the grounds.

Ralph found the magnate seated on the porch. He knew that something was up as Farrington arose with a great show of welcome, made him sit down in the easiest chair, and treated him as if he were the dearest friend the old man had in the world.

"You sent for me, Mr. Farrington?" Ralph observed, between some flattering but meaningless remarks of his wily host.

"Why, yes-yes," assented Farrington.

"On business, your nephew told me."

"H'm-hardly that. I'll tell you, Fairbanks, I have been greatly interested and pleased to notice the manly course you have taken."

"Thank you, Mr. Farrington."

"In fact, I have taken pains to inquire of your direct employers as to your capability and record, and am gratified to find them good-exceptionally good."

Ralph wondered what was coming next.

"Your father was my friend-I want to be yours. I am not without a certain interest and influence in the matter of the railroad, as you may know, and I have decided to exert myself in your behalf."

"You are very kind," said Ralph.

"Not at all. I recognize merit, and I-u'm! I feel a decided duty in the premises. The auditor of the road at Springfield holds his office through my recommendation. I was talking with him yesterday, and I have a proposition to make you. I will give you five hundred dollars more than the market price for your house and lot, rent you a place I own at Springfield for a mere nominal turn, and guarantee you a good office position in the auditor's department there at forty dollars a month to start in with."

Ralph opened his eyes wide. It was certainly a tempting bait. Had any person but crafty old Gasper Farrington made the tender, he might have jumped at it.

Instantly, however, he remembered what Denny had said about the new line, recalled the fact that Farrington had never been known to make a bad bargain, compared confining labor over a desk in a hot, stifling room with the free, glad dash of mail and express, the bracing air, the constant change of real railroad life, reflected that once away from Stanley Junction he and his mother would never be likely to learn more of Farrington's past doings with his dead father, and-Ralph decided.

"Mr. Farrington," he said, "in regard to the cottage, that is my mother's sole business, and I do not think she could be induced to sell you a place that has been a very dear home to her. As to myself-I thank you for your kind intentions, but at present I have no desire to change my work."

"Why not-why not?" cried Farrington. He had been unctuous, smirking and eager. Now his brow darkened, and his thin lips came together in a sour, vicious way.

"Well, I have marked out a certain thorough course after much thought and advice, and do not like to depart from it."

Gasper Farrington got up and paced the porch restlessly. The old rancor and dislike came back to his thin, shrewd face.

"You'll regret it!" he mumbled.

"I hope not," said Ralph, rising also.

"Young man," observed Farrington, stabbing at his guest with a quivering finger, "I warn you that you are taking an obstinate and fatal course."

"Warn?" echoed Ralph-"that is pretty strong language, isn't it, Mr. Farrington?"

"And I mean it to be so!" cried Farrington, casting aside all disguise. "I said I had influence. I have. You can't work for the Great Northern in Stanley Junction, if I say not."

Ralph stared at the speaker incredulously. He could not comprehend how Farrington could show the bad policy to put himself on record with such a remark, be his intentions what they might.

"In fact, sir," said Ralph, "you mean to intimate that you will get me discharged?"

"I mean just that," unblushingly admitted Farrington. "I will allow no pauper brood to stand in the way of my-of my-"

Ralph felt the blood surge hotly to his temples. With a strong effort he controlled himself.

"Mr. Farrington," he said quietly, though his voice trembled a trifle, "you have said quite enough. I want to tell you that you are a wicked, hypocritical old man. You have no interest in my welfare-you are after our little property, because you have learned that the railroad may soon pay a big price for it. You want us out of Stanley Junction, because you are afraid we may find out something about your dealings with my dead father. To carry your point, you threaten me-me, a poor boy, just starting in to win his way by hard work-you threaten to plot against and ruin me. Very well, Mr. Farrington, go ahead. I have too much reliance in the teachings of a good mother to believe that you will succeed."

"What! what!" shouted the magnate, almost choking with rage and mortification at this unvarnished arraignment, "you dare to tell me this? In my own house!"

"You invited me here," suggested Ralph.

"Get out-get out!" cried Farrington, running to the door for his cane.

"You will fail," spoke Ralph, going down the steps. "You won't gag me as you have others. As you did-"

Like an inspiration a suggestion came to Ralph Fairbanks' mind at that moment.

It seemed as if he had right before his eyes once more the mysterious, blurred letter that Van had brought. He recalled one of its last words. He had mistaken it for "Farewell." Now the light flashed in upon his soul. "Farwell" was the name Big Denny had spoken-"Farwell Gibson."

"As you did Farwell Gibson," concluded Ralph, at a venture.

"Who? Come back! Stay, Fairbanks, one word!"

The old man's face had grown white. His eyes seemed suddenly haunted with dread.

"That name!" he gasped, clutching at a chair for support. "What do you know of Farwell Gibson?"

"Only," answered Ralph, "that he wrote to my father last week."

"He-wrote-" choked out Farrington, "last week-to your father-Farwell Gibson!"

The information was the capping climax. The old man uttered a groan, fell over, carrying the chair he grasped with him, and lay on the porch floor in a fit.

CHAPTER XIX-IKE SLUMP'S FRIENDS

When Ralph reached home after his exciting half-hour with Gasper Farrington, he was considerably wrought up.

He had called for assistance at the Farrington home as soon as its owner went down in a fit, a servant had hurried to the porch, between them they got Farrington into the house and on a couch, a physician was telephoned for, and as soon as he saw returning signs of consciousness on the part of his host and discerned that his condition was not really serious, Ralph left the place.

Van had gone to bed, and Ralph found his mother alone. They sat in the little parlor, conversing. Mrs. Fairbanks was very much perturbed at Ralph's recital of his sensational encounter with Gasper Farrington.

"I fear he is an evil man, Ralph," she said, with anxiety. "He has power, and he will not hesitate to misuse it."

"He seems to be determined to drive us out of Stanley Junction," said Ralph. "And I fear he may succeed."

"Not while I have you to care for and your interests to protect!" declared Ralph, with vim. "That old man has aroused the fighting blood in me, mother, and I'll see this thing through, and stay right on the spot, if I have to peddle papers for a living. But don't you worry about his getting me discharged. I have made some friends in the railroad business, and I believe they will stick by me."

Mrs. Fairbanks sighed in a worried way.

"I wish you had not run counter to him to-night," she said.

"I am glad," responded Ralph. "Don't you see he has shown his hand? Why, mother, can anything be plainer than that he realizes our presence here to be a constant menace to some of his interests? And as to that random shot about Farwell Gibson-it told. He is afraid of us and this Gibson. Well, it has all cleared the way to definite action."

"What do you mean, Ralph?"

"I mean that the letter Van brought us must have been very important. I believe this man, Gibson, is alive, but in hiding. He shows it by the roundabout, laborious way he took to send the letter, and his ignorance of father's death. I believe that letter hinted at his knowledge of wrongs Farrington has done us. If we can find this person, I feel positive he can impart information of vital value to our interests."

Mrs. Fairbanks acquiesced in her son's theories, but was timorous about further antagonizing their enemy. It was mostly for Ralph and his prospects that she cared.

"I have been thinking the whole matter over, mother," proceeded Ralph, "and I believe I see my course plain before me. As soon as I can, I am going to ask the foreman to give me a couple of days' leave of absence. Then I will get Mr. Griscom to take Van and me on his run, and return. Van came in on his morning run, so I conjecture he must have got on the train somewhere between Stanley Junction and the terminal. Is it not possible, going back over the course, that he may show recognition of some spot with which he is familiar?"

"Yes, Ralph, that looks reasonable."

"Once we know where he came from, and find his friends, we can trace up this Mr. Gibson. Don't you see, mother?"

Mrs. Fairbanks did see, and commended Ralph's clear, ready wit in formulating the plan suggested. She did not show much enthusiasm, however. She was more than content with the present-a comfortable home, a manly, ambitious boy at her side, full of devotion to her, and making his way steadily to the front.

Ralph was called into the foreman's office almost as soon as he reached the roundhouse next morning.

Forgan looked serious and acted anxious.

"Sit down, Fairbanks," he directed, closing the door after his visitor. "We're in trouble here, and I guess you will have to lift us out of it."

"Can I, Mr. Forgan?" inquired Ralph.

"You can help, that's sure. Those brass fittings you found were stolen from the railroad company."

"I thought that. They had the Great Northern stamp on them."

"That isn't the worst of it. Some one has been systematically rifling the supply bins. I suppose you know that some of these pinions and valves are very nearly worth their weight in silver?"

"I know they must cost considerable, those of a special pattern," assented Ralph.

"They do. That little heap you brought in the bag represents something over fifty dollars to the company."

Ralph was surprised at this declaration.

"To an outsider they are not worth one-tenth that amount, because there is a penalty for selling them, even as junk, and the only people who handle them are stolen-goods receivers, who melt them down. Well, Fairbanks, I started an investigation in the supply department last evening. The result is astonishing."

The foreman's grave manner indicated that he had some pretty sensational disclosures in reserve.

"We find," continued Forgan, "that there has been cunning, systematic thievery; some one entirely familiar with the supply sheds and their system has removed a large amount of plunder, probably a little at a time. They, or he, whoever it is, did not excite suspicions by taking the fittings from the bins, but tapped the reserve boxes and kegs in the storeroom. We estimate that nearly two thousand dollars' worth of stuff has been stolen."

Ralph was astonished at this statement.

"That means trouble for me," announced the foreman, "unless I can remedy it. I am supposed to employ reliable men, and safeguard the goods in their charge. The railroad company doesn't stop to find excuses for shortages, they simply discharge a man who is not smart enough to protect his own and the company's interests."

"I understand," murmured Ralph.

"A new inventory is due next month. I must recover that stolen plunder-at least discover the thieves-to square myself before then," announced Forgan. "We can't afford to dodge any corners, Fairbanks, and I want you to be clear and open with me. I believe that young rascal, Ike Slump, had a hand in the robbery, and I further believe that you know it to be a fact."

"I do not positively know it, Mr. Forgan," said Ralph.

"But you suspect it, eh? Don't shield a rogue, Fairbanks. It isn't fair to me and it isn't fair to the company. Ike's father told me this morning you promised to try and find his son for him. I think you are shrewd enough to do it. All right-at the same time keep in mind my interest in the affair, and try and get a clew from Ike Slump as to those stolen fittings. You can call the day off-I'll pay your time out of my own pocket."

Ralph understood what was expected of him. He received the suggestions of his superior without further questioning, as if they comprised a regular order, went to his locker, and in a few minutes was ready for the street.

He did not know where to find Ike Slump, but he was thoroughly acquainted with the town, which had its rough quarters, like all other railroad centers.

Extending from the depot along the tracks for half a mile were small hotels, workingmen's boarding houses, second-hand stores, restaurants saloons, and all kinds of little business places.

They comprised a nest where most of the drinking and all of the crime of the place occurred. It was not a desirable quarter, but Ralph realized that within its precincts he was likely to locate Ike Slump, if at all in Stanley Junction.

Ralph put in an hour strolling in the vicinity. He kept a keen eye out for those of Ike's chosen chums whom he knew. He did not believe that Ike was likely to show himself much in the day-time. His father had been unable to find him, and Ike probably had some safe hide-out, and pickets on the lookout, besides.

About eleven o'clock, coming down the tracks near the scene of the battle royal, Ralph discovered half a dozen boys in the rear yard of a blacksmith shop.

Various vehicles, sheds and general yard litter enabled Ralph to approach them unobserved. He fancied that at least two of the crowd had been mixed up in the fracas which Van's valiant onslaught had terminated, for one had a swollen nose and another a black eye.

Ralph suddenly appeared before the crowd, engrossed in their game. They rose up, startled. Then he was apparently recognized, for a quick murmur went the rounds, and they quickly hunched together with lowering brows and suspicious looks.

"I want to have a word with you fellows," said Ralph bluntly.

They were six to one, and here was a golden opportunity to avenge the ignominious defeat they had sustained. Ralph's off-hand bearing, however, his clear eye and manly tones, impressed them, and perhaps, too, they had a wholesome fear that his giant-fisted champion, Van, might be lurking in the vicinity.

No one spoke, and Ralph resumed.

"See here, boys, this is business. I want to find Ike Slump, and it's for his own good. He's likely to get into trouble if he doesn't see his father very soon, and it will be the police, not me, next visit. His mother's sick, boys, sick abed, and heart-broken over his absence. Come, fellows, tell me where he is."

"You're pretty fresh!" spoke out one of the crowd. "What are you after? a bluff, or a give-away?"

"If you mean I am misrepresenting Ike's danger, or that I have any unfriendly feeling towards him," said Ralph, "you are entirely wrong. I'm trying to help him, for the sake of his poor mother and others-not hurt him."

Two or three heads went close together. There was a brief undertoned conference.

"We don't bite," finally announced the spokesman of the crowd. "We'll take your message to Ike. If he wants to find you, he knows how."

"All right," said Ralph, moving away-"only he may wait too long. I'll give you a quarter to put me in touch with him for two minutes."

No one responded to the offer. A little dirty-faced urchin, who looked unhappy and out of place with that motley crew, looked longingly at Ralph. No one called him back as he moved slowly away.

Ralph left the place, and had gone about two hundred yards down the track along a high fence, when he heard a thin, piping voice call out:

"Hold on, mister, back up-I want to tell you something!"

CHAPTER XX-THE HIDE-OUT

"Where are you?" Ralph inquired, somewhat mystified.

"Here I am-the wiggling stick. I'm behind it."

"Oh! I see!" said Ralph-"and who are you?"

"Me? Oh, nobody in particular."

Ralph now discovered that his challenger was on the other side of the close board fence, and through a crack was moving a thin splinter of wood up and down to indicate his exact location. Ralph came up to the spot.

"What do you want?" he inquired.

"That quarter, mister-you know, back there with the gang, I heard you. Well, here I am. Pass through the coin, will you?"

Ralph got a dim focus through the crack, and surmised that the speaker was the dirty-faced little fellow who had looked at him so longingly when he offered the money.

"You know where Ike Slump is?" asked Ralph.

"No, I don't, mister."

"Well, then?"

"But I can put you on."

"On to what?"

"Where he goes every night-where you're sure to find him after dark."

"Well, tell me."

"See here, mister," piped the little fellow in an uncertain voice. "The gang 'd kill me if they knew I was giving 'em away, but I'm just about starving. Because I'm little they make me do all kinds of work, and when there's anything to eat they forget I'm around. They stole some melons out of the cars last night. All I got was the rind."

"Who are you, anyway?" asked Ralph.

"Oh, I'm nobody. I was at the county farm, but run away and got in with these fellows. Wish I was back! I'd go, only they'd punish me and lock me up. You give me the quarter, and I'll meet you later and show you where Ike Slump hangs out nights."

"You'll keep your promise?"

"Honor bright!"

"Where will you be?"

"Right here, only outside the fence."

"What time?"

"Just at dark."

"I'll do it," said Ralph, slipping a twenty-five-cent piece through the crack in the fence. "Remember, now. I trust you, and I'll give you as much more to-night if you don't play me any tricks."

"Crackey! that's fine; only you keep mum on my showing you?"

"I certainly will," assured Ralph.

He did not feel certain that he had accomplished much. It all depended on the reliability of the urchin. Ralph went back to the roundhouse and told the foreman he could do nothing further toward locating Ike Slump until nightfall, and put in the afternoon at his regular duties, although Forgan told him he need not do so.

Ralph went home at quitting-time, got his supper, explained to his mother that he had something to attend to for the foreman, and not to worry if he was not back early.

He reached the rendezvous agreed on at dusk, and after a few minutes' waiting saw the little fellow of the morning coming down the tracks.

"I'm here," announced the new arrival.

"So am I, as you see," answered Ralph. "How did you get on to-day-let's see, what is your name?"

"Teddy."

"All right, Teddy. Did you get something to eat?"

"Not a great deal. The fellow saw me buying some grub. I told 'em I found a quarter, and they made me play craps with the change-twenty cents."

"Of course you lost."

"Oh, sure-knew that before I began. They always win, them fellows. Say, mister, please, I'll go ahead alone, because if any of them should happen to see me with you it would be all-day for Teddy!"

"Go ahead," directed Ralph.

The boy went down the tracks. At the end of the fence he turned into a yard with a barn at the back. The building in front was a dilapidated two-story frame structure. The windows at the rear were fastened up, but the one doorway visible was open, and led into a dark hallway.

Teddy had paused near a wagon, and looked anxious to get away.

"That's the place," he said. "You go in that door and up some stairs. There's a big room in front where the crowd meet nights, and play cards, and drink and smoke. Ike Slump spends all his evenings here."

"All right," said Ralph. "There's another quarter. See here, Teddy, if you'll come down to the roundhouse to-morrow, I'll give you a good dinner. I want to have a talk with you."

"Well, I'll see," said the urchin, palming the coin with a chuckle and disappearing at once.

Ralph looked the place over. Finally, from his knowledge of the street beyond, he located it properly in his mind. The building, was in the middle of what was known as Rotten Row. It was a double store front, one half of which was occupied by a cheap barber shop. The other half, Ralph remembered, was a second-hand clothing store run by a man named Cohen, who also did something in the pawnbroker line.

Ralph had often noticed the dilapidated place, and knew that its denizens had a shady reputation. He realized that Cohen was just about the man to encourage boys to hang around and steal, and doubtless controlled the rooms upstairs.

Ralph entered the dark rear hallway after some deliberation. When he reached the top of the stairs he paused and listened.

Under the crack of the door some gleams of light showed. The front room of the upper story lay beyond, Ralph theorized. He could catch a low hum of voices, the click of dominoes, and there was a tobacco taint in the atmosphere. He ran his hand over the door, but it had no knob. the keyhole was plugged up, and he could not see into the room.

Ralph judged from the appearance of things that Ike Slump came to the place by the front way, so there was no use waiting for him at the rear stairs. He reasoned, too, that if he went around to the front he would be seen by some of Ike's cohorts, and the latter would be warned and kept out of the way.

"I wish I could get a chance into that front room," mused Ralph. "Once I come in range of Ike, I think I can at least say enough to get him to listen to me."

There was one other room on the second floor and one other door. Ralph found a knob here. But the door was locked. It had, unlike the other door, a transom. The sash of this was gone, and the space stopped up with a loose sheet of manilla paper.

Ralph lightly lifted himself to the knob on one foot. He pushed at the paper, and it moved out free except at two corners where it was tacked. It was no trick at all for Ralph to lift himself through the transom and drop to the floor on the other side.

With some satisfaction he noticed that this room connected with the front apartment, the light coming in over its transom reflecting into the rear room so that he could make out its contents plainly.

At one side stood a big hogshead nearly full of loose excelsior, used for packing. Near it were as many as twenty flat boxes. Ralph touched one with his foot. He could not budge it, and then, drawing closer, he looked into a box with its cover off, and saw that it was nearly full of brass fittings.

"They're here, there's a lot of them," breathed Ralph quickly, "packed up for shipment. This is a find! What had I better do?"

The discovery modified all Ralph's prearranged plans. He knew quite well that if found in this room his presence would show a prima facieevidence that he knew the storage place of the stolen plunder. Ralph decided to get out as quickly as he had got in, and try to come upon Ike from some other point of the compass, without giving the alarm to Cohen, or whoever really controlled the stolen goods.

Before he could make a move, however, a key grated in the lock of the connecting room. The knob was broken off on the inside of the door over which he had just clambered. To reach the transom and get sufficient purchase to let himself over through the aperture he would have to have a box or chair to stand on.

There was no time to select either. The door leading to the front room came briskly open. Ralph looked for a hiding place. None presented, for the boxes lay flat on the floor, and the hogshead was away from the side wall.

Ralph thought quick and acted on an impulse. He thrust his arm down into the hogshead. Its light contents gave way to the touch.

Leaping its rim, Ralph sank as in a snowbank, ducked down his head, pulled the stringy wooden fiber over it, and snuggled inside the hogshead, out of view.