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

CHAPTER XII-IKE SLUMP'S REVENGE

The roundhouse foreman staggered back with a gasp.

The oil splattered over his face, neck and chest, the waste separated and dropped down inside his vest.

Then, astonished, Forgan dashed the blinding grease from his eyes, ran forward, took a stare in every direction, and doubled his pace with a roar like a maddened bull.

"You imp of Satan!" he yelled.

He had detected Ike Slump, unmistakably the culprit. With agile springs, fairly terrified at his mistake, Ike had taken to flight.

In his haste he tripped over a rail. His pursuer pounced down on him before he could get up, snatched him up with one hand by the collar, grabbed half a loose box cover with another, dragged him into the little office, banged the door shut with his foot, and the work of retribution began.

The men in the dog house had been attracted by the turmoil. Now they stood gazing at the closed office door.

A grin ran the rounds, as from within escaped sounds unmistakably connected with the box cover, mingled with the frantic yells of Ike Slump.

"That kid's been spoiling for just this for some time," observed a gray-bearded engineer.

"Has he?" echoed an extra-"well, just! He's been the bane of Forgan's life ever since he came here. The boss had to keep him because Ike's father is a crony, but he's getting real enjoyment for the privilege!"

There was nothing malicious in Ralph's nature, but he felt that Ike Slump deserved a lesson. Ralph proceeded calmly on his way as though nothing had happened, carried his can of sand over to the bench, mixed it well in one of the small oil pails, took up the other and some waste, and went over to one of the two switch engines that had just come in.

They stood on adjacent tracks, not yet run to stall. Ralph began his first task as a real wiper. He had watched Ike carefully, and it was no trick at all to follow in his mechanical groove, and much improve his system, besides.

Ralph was busy on the bell as the door of foreman's office was thrust open.

Ike Slump was as quickly thrust out. He was blubbering, limp, and smarting with pain.

Forgan was red-faced and panting from his exertions.

"Now then," he said, "you get to work, or get out and home to your father, just as you like."

"He'll kill me if I do!" came from Ike.

"He ought to. Hustle there, now!"

Ike went to the bench, picked up the grease pail, and climbed to the cabin of the other switch engine.

He cast an angry glance at Ralph.

"Played it smart, didn't you!" he snarled.

"You shouldn't complain," answered Ralph calmly.

"Wait till to-night!"

"I'm waiting," tranquilly rejoined Ralph, poising back to view about as fine a shimmer to the bell he was working on as oil and waste and elbow grease could produce.

Meantime, Ike had blindly, savagely slapped a coat of grease on the bell opposite.

A yell went up from his wrathful lips as he applied the waste.

He nearly had a fit and if he could have found a loose missile he would doubtless have thrown it at Ralph.

"Confound you!" he hissed. "Oh, I'll get you yet!"

"I'm here," said Ralph. "What's up. You said sand was good for the bell. Is it?"

"Say, you wait! oh, say, you wait!" foamed Ike.

Both worked their way simultaneously into the cabs, the upper wiping done. Ralph watched his fellow-worker. The locomotives had been dumped, but there was still enough steam to run them to bed.

"Soon as I run her in," announced Ike malevolently across the two-foot space between the engines, "I'm going to jump my job."

Ralph said nothing. Ike had put his hand on the lever, intending evidently to slow back the locomotive to its stall. Ralph was expected to do the same with the other engine.

"But I'll be laying for you at quitting time, and with the bunch, don't you forget it!" supplemented Ike.

Ralph gave the lever a touch, the wheels started, but instantly he shut off steam.

Glancing sideways and out through the open front of the roundhouse, his eyes met a sight that would have paralyzed some people, but which acted on his impetuous nature like a shock of electricity.

With one leap he cleared the cab, in two springs he had reached the doorway. The startled Ike Slump saw him disappear behind the locomotive. His bead-like eyes glowed.

Now was his chance. Leaning over between the two locomotives, he touched the lever Ralph had just shut off. The locomotive started towards its stall.

Directing his own forward, it went on its diverging course at routine slow speed.

This cleared the view from doghouse and office. At that moment the foreman's strident tones belched out:

"Stop her! Where's the wiper?"

All eyes saw that the second locomotive was not manned. Some had witnessed Ralph's sensational disappearance.

Three or four made a run for the unguided locomotive. The foremost of the group sprang into the cab just as the tender struck the circular outer wall of the roundhouse.

He halted the engine, but not until the tender had smashed a hole out to daylight, taking one big window upon its back, and buried the rails under half a ton of brick and mortar.

Ike Slump descended from his locomotive serene as summer skies, as Forgan rushed up to the scene.

"Where's the smart-Aleck that did that!" roared the foreman.

He was fairly distracted with the accumulating disturbances of the hour.

"Dunno. Got scared at hearing the steam hiss, I guess, and run for it," said Ike.

Tim Forgan paced up and down the planks, a smoldering volcano of wrath.

"There he is now," piped Ike, hugging himself with delight, as he considered that he had turned the tables on Ralph.

The foreman dashed towards the entrance of the roundhouse. Sure enough, Ralph had come into view.

Half a dozen persons were straggling after him, and some unusual commotion was evidently rife among them, but the infuriated roundhouse foreman at the moment had eyes only for the object of his rage.

Ralph's face was as white as chalk, he was out of breath, one arm of his jacket was torn away, and from the elbow to the finger tips there was a long, bleeding scratch.

The foreman ran up to him, and almost jerked him off his feet as he caught him by the arm.

"You young blunderer!" he roared-"look at your work! Five hundred dollars damage!"

Ralph seemed in an uncomprehending daze and failed to take in the wrathful sweep of Forgan's arm towards the dismantled wall.

"I'll give you the same dose I gave that young imp, Slump!" shouted Forgan, losing all control of himself.

He began to drag Ralph towards the office. The latter had acted as if about to faint! Now his senses seemed to arouse abruptly.

Ralph braced back. His eyes swept the crowd about him. He caught sight of Ike Slump's gloating face, and beyond him the wrecked wall.

"Wait!" he said faintly, and then with more firmness of tone: "Stop! what do you accuse me of?"

"Accuse you of?" roared the foreman. "Hear him! I suppose you pretend not to see your work. Look at that wall, look at that engine-"

"I didn't do it," declared Ralph positively, catching on for the first time.

"Oh, I won't listen to such rot!" fumed Forgan. "You get out good and quick, but I'll give you something to remember it by before you do."

"Stop!" again spoke Ralph, and this time it was a command. "You are accusing me of something I know nothing about, Mr. Forgan. Let go my arm."

"Why, you impudent young jackanapes! I'll lick the daylight out of you now, just to drive some truth into you!"

"Don't you dare to touch me!" cried Ralph. He was fully aroused now. The natural glitter had returned to his eye, and with a quick move he jerked free from the grasp of the foreman, powerful as it was. "I allow no man to punish me for what I did not do, and this is a place where we stand as man to man."

The foreman had been surprised at Ralph's exhibition of genuine strength, but that manifestation had only served to increase his rage.

In positive fury he posed for a savage spring at Ralph. The latter put both hands on the defensive. His lips were firmly compressed. He did not wish to imperil his position by fighting with a superior, but he was determined to stand on his rights.

At that moment, in advance of the pressing crowd outside, big Denny Sloan, the yard watchman, came into view.

"Drop that, Tim Forgan!" he ordered quickly. "Don't touch that boy, or you'll be sorry for it to your dying day!"

CHAPTER XIII-MAKING HIS WAY

Big Denny confronted the roundhouse foreman, an obstructing block in his path. He was one of the heaviest men in the service, built like an ox, and immensely good-natured.

Just now, however, he was also immensely excited and serious, and the crowd stared at him curiously, and at Forgan in an astonished way.

"This is none of your business. Don't you interfere, don't you try to shield that miserable blunderer!" shouted the foreman.

"Hold on, Tim," advised the watchman, putting out his big arm, and abruptly checking Forgan in a forward dash.

"Do you know what he's done!" howled Forgan.

"Do you?"

"Do I-"

"I guess you don't, Tim," said Big Denny quietly. "Just you cool down. This way, boys," called the watchman into the crowd at his heels. "Keep cool, Tim-there's no harm done, but there might have been if Fairbanks here wasn't quicker than lightning, and a brave young hero, besides!"

The crowd parted, a switchman came into view. He carried in his arms, white and limp, a little girl about ten years of age.

Hanging by the neck ribbon was her pretty summer hat, crushed and cut squarely in two. One temple was somewhat disfigured, and her dress was soiled with roadbed dust and grime.

Tim Forgan looked once and his jaws dropped. He shuddered as if some one had dealt him a blow, and staggered where he stood, his face turning to a sickly gray.

"Nora!" he gasped-"my little Nora! Denny-boys! she is hurt-dead!"

"Neither," answered the big watchman promptly, placing a soothing hand on the foreman's quivering arm. "Steady, old man, now!"

"Give her to me!" shouted Forgan, in a frenzy. "Nora, my little Nora! What has happened? what has happened?"

The big fellow had one idol, one warm corner in his heart-his little grandchild.

His rugged brow corrugated, and he was frantic beyond all reason as he covered the still white face with kisses, nestling the motionless child in his arms tenderly.

"Take her into the office," directed Denny. "Give her air, lads-and get some cold water, some of you."

He blocked the doorway with his bulky frame as the foreman and his charge passed through, admitting a moment later a switchman with a can of water, and two of the older engineers at his heels.

Then he closed the door, and looked around for Ralph. The latter had sunk to a bench, still pale and faint-looking. The lame helper was ransacking his locker. Coming thence with some clean waste and a bottle of liniment, he snatched up a pail, went outside, got some warm water from a locomotive, and approached Ralph.

Ralph regarded him in some wonder, but made no demur as the strange, silent fellow began to wash and dress his injured arm with a touch soft and careful as that of a woman.

Big Denny continued to stand on guard at the closed door of the foreman's little office.

The crowd from the outside was exchanging information with the roundhouse throng, trying to patch mutual disclosures together into some coherency.

Ike Slump's look of malevolent gratification had faded away. He began to surmise that Ralph had a purpose in so summarily deserting his post, and that the anticipated "turning of the tables" was not destined to materialize.

"What's the rights of things, Denny?" asked one of the engineers. "That was little Nora Forgan, wasn't it!"

"Sure-and you know what she is to gruff old Tim, apple of his eye. If anything happened to her, I believe he'd go mad."

"He's pretty near there now, with his tantrums!" volunteered a voice from the crowd.

"I think this will cure him a bit," said Denny. "The little one has been bringing him his dinner lately, you know. A child like that has no business along the tracks, but he usually had her come back of the roundhouse, where there wasn't so much risk. This time, I suppose she feared she'd be late, and crossed over the busiest switches. My heart stood still, lads, when, ten minutes since, five hundred feet away from her, I saw her trip, fall, strike her head on the rails, and lay there stunned, squarely in the way of a dead-end freight, coming."

Big Denny squirmed with real feeling in his powerful, husky voice, as he dabbed the perspiration from his brow.

"Next thing, I saw a flash come out through the roundhouse door here. It was-him!"

Mechanically the crowd turned. Twenty pairs of eyes rested on Ralph, whom Denny had pointed out.

"Yes, sir-it was him, young Fairbanks! He's got the right blood in him, that kid. I knew his father, and he wouldn't be Jack Fairbanks' son if he hadn't acted just as he did!"

No comment could have pleased Ralph more than that. He darted a grateful look at his bulky champion.

"No one any good seemed to have noticed the accident except him," went on Denny, the eyes of his absorbed auditors again riveted intently upon him. "I counted the seconds in a sort of sickly horror, for it seemed impossible that he could make it in time."

"But he did!" cried a strained voice.

"He did-it was terrifying. The last ten feet he saw his only chance. It was like a fellow sliding for base. Flat he dived and drove. It must have been an awful scrape! The first wheels of the backing car fairly reached the little angel's long, golden curls. As it was, they cut the dangling hat straight in two. He grabbed her, just escaping the wheels, not a second too soon."

With a working face the lame helper had stood listening, rooted to the spot like a statue.

The crowd swayed towards Ralph. They were all in one uniform mood of admiration for his nervy exploit, only they expressed it in different ways.

A dozen shook his hand till they nearly wrung it off; a big, bluff fireman, with a fist like a ham, slapped his shoulders so exuberantly that the contact nearly drove the breath out of his body.

"As to that little heap of rubbish," observed Big Denny, with lofty contempt indicating the broken brick wall-"I reckon Tim Forgan won't let that count against the life of that child."

Ralph arose to his feet.

"But I didn't do it," he asseverated.

"Don't you worry about trifles, kid," advised Denny.

"But I didn't!" insisted Ralph.

Denny looked annoyed. He wished to dismiss the subject peremptorily while his hero was still on the pedestal, and, human-like, he believed Ralph was trying to square himself at the cost of a lame explanation, or a lie.

"That's-that's right," suddenly interposed a quavering voice.

"Hello!" laughed Denny, turning to confront the sphinx-like helper, whose taciturnity was proverbial. "You'll be making a speech, next!"

"Yes," bolted out the lame helper, very much agitated over his own unusual temerity.

"Give it a voice, Limpy."

"He didn't do it."

"Didn't do what?"

"Run that engine into the wall."

"How do you know?"

"I saw him-he started her up, but shut her off, dead, before he jumped for the tracks and ran outside."

Ralph looked surprised, but pleased, Big Denny convinced, and the crowd tremendously interested.

On the outskirts of the crowd Ike Slump gave ear, perked up his face in a grimace, and a minute later sneaked out of the place.

"Saw the whole thing," declared Limpy. "Fellow in the next engine leaned over soon as Fairbanks left, slipped the lever, and let her drive."

"Who was it?" demanded the watchman indignantly.

"Slump, the scamp."

"Where is he?"

The crowd made a search, but it was unavailing-Ike Slump had "jumped his job" permanently, to all appearances, for his locker was empty.

The fireman came out of the office.

"She's all right," he announced to Denny, "but the old man's terribly broken up. Better go in and give him a word."

"All right," said Denny-"you come, too, Fairbanks."

"I'd rather not," said Ralph-"I've got work to do."

"You take a rest and eat your dinner before you do anything else," advised the big watchman.

The noon whistle sounded just then and dispersed the crowd. Ralph went over to a bench and brought out his dinner pail.

His arm was sore and smarting, but he was not at all seriously crippled, and he sat thoughtfully eating his lunch and wondering how the damage to the wall would be repaired.

Ralph noticed the two engineers leave the office, then Big Denny. The latter had hold of the hand of little Nora.

He led the way up to Ralph. Limpy had just taken his seat on the other end of the bench.

"I'm going to take her home," said the watchman. "Nora, do you know who this young gentleman is?"

The little girl looked still pale and frightened, but except for the torn dress and hat and a dark bruise on her forehead seemed none the worse for her recent perilous experience.

"No, sir," she said shyly.

"It's Ralph Fairbanks. He saved your life."

"Oh, sir! did you? did you?" she cried, running up to Ralph. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, the tears running down her cheeks. "When I tell mamma, she'll come down and thank you, too!" she continued and then passed on.

Ralph was affected by the incident. His heart warmed up as he reflected how the tide of feeling had changed towards him in the past hour. Then, reaching for his lunch pail, his hand unexpectedly came in contact with a big, juicy square of pie. The lame helper had disappeared.

It was a further tribute from that strange, silent man, and it told Ralph unmistakably that beyond that grim wall of reserve was probably hidden a heart of gold.

The excitement and rough usage of the morning had used up Ralph considerably. He felt the need of fresh air, put aside his dinner pail, and started for the outside.

Just then, the helper came across to him from the direction of the little office.

"Wanted," he said sententiously. "Foreman wants to see you."

CHAPTER XIV-RALPH FAIRBANKS' REQUEST

Ralph felt the sense of a crisis strong upon him. Circumstances had given some stormy features to the morning's progress, but had cleared the air generally.

He believed, all told, that he had carried off the honors quite creditably, and was in a measure master of the situation.

When he came to the office door it was partly open, but he knocked.

"Come in," spoke the foreman's voice, a good deal toned down from its usual accents of asperity.

Tim Forgan stood over near the window, his back turned to Ralph. His hands, clasped behind him, fumbled nervously. He was palpably in a disturbed mood, and from the vague view Ralph had of his side face he noted it was pale and anxious-looking.

"Sit down," directed the foreman. He stood in the same position for nearly a minute. Then very abruptly he turned, came up to Ralph, extended his hand as if with an effort, and said, almost brokenly:

"Fairbanks, I want to thank you for what you have done for me and mine."

"I am glad I did it," answered Ralph simply.

The foreman sank into a chair, started to speak, arose, paced the floor restlessly, finally halted in front of Ralph, and looked him squarely in the face.

"Fairbanks," he said, "I believe I have done you an injustice. Don't answer. Let me speak while the mood is on me. I am a proud man, and it's hard for me to root out my settled suspicions. I won't say they are all gone yet, but after what has happened it would be wrong and churlish for me to hold back what is on my lips. When you came here this morning, I was satisfied that you came here as a spy upon my actions."

"Oh, Mr. Forgan!" explained Ralph involuntarily.

"And I prepared to treat you as a spy. I have had trouble with the master mechanic, off and on-that is, we are rivals in the race for the presidency of the local labor council, and Ike Slump's father, when I told him about your card from the master mechanic, scented a plot at once."

"Why, Mr. Forgan!" exclaimed Ralph in amazement, "I never saw the master mechanic until night before last, then only for less than two minutes, and my meeting with him was purely accidental."

The roundhouse foreman looked Ralph through and through.

"I believe you, Fairbanks," he said, at length. "You don't look like the lying, sneaking sort, and Denny says he'd bank his soul on you. He says I've got bad, crafty advisers. Maybe so, maybe so," went on Forgan, half to himself. "I wish I'd kept out of the labor ring. It makes one fancy half his friends enemies. Drop that, though. I've made my confession, and I believe you're square. I've sent for you to exonerate you from all part in the smash-up, and to tell you that I owe you a debt I can never pay. I'll try to square some of it, though. Fairbanks, you shall stay here, and I shall give you more than a chance to forge ahead."

"I thank you, Mr. Forgan," said Ralph gratefully.

The foreman strode over to the window again. Ralph studied this strange make-up of real force, dark suspicions and ungovernable impulses, but did not appear to watch him. In a covert way, with a sidelong glance at Ralph, the foreman opened the door of a little closet, took out a dark bottle, and Ralph could hear the gurgling dispatch of a long, deep draught.

He had overheard some of the men in the dog house hinting at the boss' failing, that morning. Now, Ralph knew what it was, and the discovery depressed him.

The stimulating draught seemed to restore the foreman's equilibrium, for in a minute or two, when he again addressed Ralph, his old half-dignified, half-autocratic manner had returned to him.

"We shall have no more Ike Slump here, father or no father," he observed. "I'm going to give you a chance, Fairbanks."

"Thank you, Mr. Forgan."

"Keep on as wiper till I get a new helper, and I'll give you a boost into an extra berth quicker than any boy ever shot up the roundhouse ladder before. I tell you, I'll never forget what you've done for me-and my dear little Nora!"

Ralph arose.

"Mr. Forgan," he said, "I am much obliged to you, and I hope I shall deserve and win your good opinion. But I want to earn my way. I don't wish to slip over one single branch of the course that will make a thorough, all-around, first-class railroad man out of me, and too fast promotion might spoil me."

The foreman understood him, but the liquor had exhilarated him, and he said:

"All the same, I'm your friend for life, Fairbanks-and I give you my word, when you ask me a favor, I'll grant it."

Ralph bowed and proceeded towards the door. Forgan was back at the closet almost immediately, Ralph wavered. He formed a quick resolution, and stepped back into the room just as the foreman turned, wiping off his lips.

"Mr. Forgan," said Ralph, "you will not be offended at something I feel it my duty to say?"

"Not a bit of it," pledged the foreman.

"You said I might ask you a favor."

"Just name it, Fairbanks."

"I shall, but first, I want to say this: You are in a fine, responsible position here, and your control and your influence affect every man in your service."

"I worked hard for the job," asserted Forgan proudly.

"I know you must have done that," said Ralph, "and I also know you must have had good abilities to step so high over the heads of others. But sometimes, Mr. Forgan-you will acknowledge it yourself-your temper, your impulses, your suspicions get the better of you."

Ralph was treading on dangerous ground. He realized it, for a certain quick flash came into Forgan's eyes. It was quenched, however, at an evident memory of the incident of the morning; and the foreman spoke, quite gayly:

"Go ahead, I'll listen. I see your drift."

"You have lots of friends, sir-try and know the real ones. And, Mr. Forgan, now for the favor I have to ask."

The foreman's bushy brows met in a suspicious way, but he declared promptly:

"You have only to ask."

"You will grant it?"

"For little Nora's sake, lad, I'd give you half I own!"

"I don't want that, Mr. Forgan. The favor I have to ask is-don't drink."

It was out, with an effort-Ralph had placed a pleading hand on the foreman's arm. He felt Forgan start and quiver. Would he burst into one of his uncontrollable fits of passion and storm and rave, and probably assault him?

The climax delayed so long that Ralph ventured another appeal.

"For little Nora's sake, Mr. Forgan!" he pleaded.

"Boy, you have said enough-go! go!" spoke Forgan huskily.

He almost pushed Ralph from the room. The door went shut, with Ralph standing outside, his breath coming quickly, for the episode had been one of intense strain.

Ralph sighed. Had he gone too far? The sincerity of his wish for the foreman's good told him he had not.

In the little office he could hear Forgan striding to and fro. Suddenly there was a halt.

Then came a crash. If only for the time being, Tim Forgan had been influenced to a holy, beneficent decision. He had shattered the wretched black bottle to atoms.

"Thank God!" breathed the young railroader fervently.