Ralph of the Roundhouse: or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man
TekstCHAPTER XXIV-A NEW ENEMY
The box car was smashed teetotally. The car that struck it had one end battered in, its rear trucks rode up over the débris threatening to telescope or derail others, but the engineer ahead, catching the token of some obstruction from the shock, shut off steam quick enough to prevent any very serious general results.
The crash had sounded far and wide. Ralph stood surveying the wreck and ruin in a kind of fascinated daze.
Yardmen came rushing up from all directions. Soon too, the brakeman of the freight and its engineer were hurrying to the scene of the wreck.
More leisurely, a man carrying a cane, faultlessly dressed, and accompanied by the depot master, crossed from the semaphore house to the spot.
Ralph turned to look at the stranger of the twain as he heard a voice in the crowd say:
"There's Bardon, the inspector."
The engineer was vociferously disclaiming any responsibility in the affair, and his brakeman tranquilly listened to him as he recited that he had taken signals as set.
The one-armed switchman who had charge of these tracks appeared on the scene, his signal flag stuck under his perfect arm, and looking flustered.
Everybody was asking questions or explaining, as the depot master and his companion edged their way to the rails.
Ralph had a full view now of the man he knew to be Bardon, the inspector.
His first impression was a vivid one. He saw nothing in the coarse, sensual lips and shifty, sneering eye of the man to commend him for either humanity or ability.
"What's the trouble here?" questioned Bardon, with the air of a person owning everything in sight, and calling down the humble myrmidons who had dared to interfere with the smooth workings of an immaculate railway system.
"You ought to be able to see," growled the freight engineer bluntly.
The inspector frowned at this free-and-easy, offhand offense to his dignity and importance.
"I'm Bardon," he said, as if the mention of that name would suffice to bring the stalwart engineer to the dust.
"I know you are," said the latter indifferently. "Cut off the two last cars," he ordered to his brakeman, turning his back on Bardon and starting back for his engine to pull out.
"Hold on," ordered the inspector.
The engineer halted with a sullen, disrespectful face.
"Well?" he projected.
"Who's to blame in this smash up?"
"Tain't me, that's dead sure," retorted the engineer, with a careless shrug of his shoulders, "and we'll leave it to the yardmaster to find out."
"I want to find out," spoke Bardon incisively-"I am here to do just this kind of thing. Can't you read a signal right?" he demanded of the brakeman.
The latter smiled a lazy smile, lurched amusedly from side to side, took a chew of tobacco, and counter-questioned:
"Can't you?"
Mr. Bardon, inspector, was getting scant courtesy shown him all around, and his eyes flashed. He deigned to glance at the first switch. It was set wrong, he could detect that at a glance.
"How's this?" he called to the one-armed switchman sharply. "You're responsible here."
"I reckon not, cap'n," answered the man lightly. "The switch is set on rule. I got no signal to change it."
"But the indicator's wrong?"
"That's the repair gang's business-and the wind. The Great Northern don't own the wind, so I reckon it will have to pocket the loss gracefully."
Bardon bit his lips.
"We've saved the junkmen a job as it is," said the freight engineer. "The switch was set for track C. You'd have had a pretty bill if you'd smashed that twenty-thousand dollar show car yonder."
"That's right-the switch was C open," declared the switchman.
"Then who changed it?" demanded Bardon, scenting a chance yet to exploit his meddling, nosing qualifications.
Ralph hesitated. He doubted if Bardon was the proper party to whom to report. He, however, simplified the situation by saying:
"I did it, sir."
"Eh? Why-you!" exclaimed the inspector, turning on him with a malevolent scowl.
"Yes, sir."
"What did you change it for?"
The freight engineer gave a derisive guffaw.
"To save the show car, of course!" he said quickly. "The company owes you about nineteen thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars, kid!" declared the engineer, giving Ralph a glance of the profoundest admiration.
But Mr. Bardon, inspector, was not to be moved by matters of sentiment. He fixed a stony stare on the free-and-easy engineer, and turned upon Ralph, the icy, immovable disciplinarian to perfection.
"What right have you to tamper with the railway company's switches?" he demanded.
"None, perhaps," answered Ralph, "but-"
"You are a switchman?"
"No, sir, but I am an employe of the company."
"Oh, you are?"
Ralph bowed.
"In what capacity?"
"Wiper."
"At the roundhouse?"
"Yes."
"And you took it on yourself to-"
"To choose the best horn of a dilemma, and saved the company a big lump of money," put in the imperturbable freight engineer. "And bully for you, kid! and if we had more sharp young eyes and ready wits like yours, there would not be so many smash-ups. That's right, Bardon?"
The inspector scowled dreadfully. If the engineer had called him Mr. Bardon he might have coincided in the view of the case presented. Turning his back on the free and fearless knight of the lever as if he was dirt under his feet, he took out a pencil and memorandum book.
"I'll look into this matter myself," he said severely. "You say you are a wiper, young man?"
"Yes, sir," assented Ralph.
"Name?"
"Fairbanks-Ralph Fairbanks."
"What-eh? Oh, yes! Ralph Fairbanks."
The young railroader regarded the inspector with positive astonishment as he uttered that sharp startling "What." He was manifestly roused up. Quickly, however, Bardon recovered himself, looked Ralph over with a decided show of interest, seemed secretly thinking of something, and then, fingering over the pages of his memorandum book, appeared looking for a notation, found it apparently, glanced again at Ralph in a sinister way, and said calmly:
"Very well, get your time."
"What is that, sir?" exclaimed Ralph, startled anew.
"Laid off, pending an investigation," added Bardon.
Ralph's heart beat a trifle unsteadily, but he straightened up with decision.
"Does that mean, Mr. Bardon, that I am not to go back to work?"
"You can understand what you like," snapped the inspector, seemingly glad to show his authority to this disrespectful crowd, and appearing to bear some personal spite against Ralph in particular, "only you are suspended until this matter is looked into."
Bardon turned to resume his way with the depot master, who looked bored and uneasy.
"Hold on!" thundered a tremendous bass voice. "That don't work."
A greasy paw closed around the immaculate coat-sleeve of the inspector, who turned with a brow as dark as a thunder cloud.
"Drop my arm-what do you mean!" breathed Bardon, with a glance at the husky freight engineer as if he would annihilate him.
"Just this, Mr. Inspector Bardon," said the engineer, with a never-quailing eye and the zest of extreme satisfaction in words and bearing, "you can't lay anybody off."
"I represent the Great Northern Railway Company," announced Bardon grandiloquently.
"Read your rules, then," retorted the engineer, "and see how far it will sustain you in exceeding your duties. I tell you they won't uphold you, and I speak with the voice of eighty-six thousand men and their auxiliaries behind me-the International Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers."
Bardon stood nonplussed. He fidgeted and turned ghastly with vexation.
"I'll see that the proper official carries out my instructions just the same," he said in a kind of a vicious hiss.
"There's just one man to help you, then," coolly announced the engineer, "and that's Tim Forgan."
The inspector moved hastily away.
"And he won't do it!" concluded the engineer, in an chuckling undertone, giving Ralph a ringing slap on the shoulder.
CHAPTER XXV-DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND
Ralph went back to the roundhouse a trifle perturbed in his mind as to the outcome of the episode of the hour.
Something instinctively told him that he was about to have trouble. He did not like that violent start of the inspector when he heard his name, and there was something sinister in the way Bardon had looked up some memoranda, and afterwards eyed him as a vulture might its prey.
Limpy nearly had a fit when he had managed to probe out of Ralph the details of his arraignment by the great and potent inspector.
"Lay you off for saving the company a small fortune?" raved the helper indignantly. "Say! you just tell that malicious scoundrel I told you to change the switch."
"I shall do nothing of the kind," answered Ralph calmly, "and you are a good deal more worried about the affair than I am. I acted as common sense and duty dictated, and I do not fear the final outcome."
Just before quitting-time Bardon came into the roundhouse. He was closeted with the foreman in his office until the whistle sounded, and as Ralph left the place both came out and began a tour of the place.
"I expect something will drop in the morning!" Ralph half-jocularly told Limpy, as he bade him good-night.
Ralph made it a rule to tell his mother everything of interest and importance that came up during the day. Mrs. Fairbanks was manifestly troubled when he had recited his encounter with Bardon.
After supper Ralph went out with Van to inspect the new chicken coop he had just built. He was surprised and pleased at the patience, ingenuity and actual hard work displayed in the same, and Van seemed to show a deeper appreciation and understanding of Ralph's commendation than he had heretofore displayed.
Ralph viewed him thoughtfully. He again began considering a plan to take Van down the road some day on the chance of locating his former home.
At nine o'clock that evening, just as Ralph was locking up for the night, there came a tremendous thump at the front door.
Ralph went thither, to confront Big Denny, the yard watchman.
Denny was in a feverish state of excitement, was perspiring, prancing about with his cane, never still, and laboring under some severe mental agitation.
"Alone, Fairbanks?" he projected, in a startling, breathless kind of a way.
"They've all gone to bed but myself," answered Ralph.
"Can I come in?"
"Surely, and welcome."
Denny thumped into the little parlor. He mopped his brow prodigiously, loosened his collar, fidgeted and fumed, and after looking cautiously around put his finger mysteriously to his lips with the hoarsely-whispered injunction:
"Secret as the grave, Fairbanks!"
Ralph nodded, with a smile indulging the whim or mood of his good loyal friend, who he knew was given to heroics.
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
"Bardon."
"I fancied so," said Ralph.
"Came right up here to see you," explained Denny. "Forgan sent me."
"The foreman?" murmured Ralph, in some surprise.
"Yes. You are not to report in the morning."
"Does Mr. Forgan say so?"
"Strictly. You are not to come near the roundhouse for a good many days. They've got it in for you, and Tim Forgan and I are going to rout 'em, horse and harness!"
"Rout whom?"
"Bardon and Farrington."
Ralph started at this mention of his capitalist enemy.
"Mr. Farrington?" he repeated.
"Yes, old Farrington."
"What has he got to do with it?"
"Everything," declared Denny expansively-"everything! The company is going to lay you off."
"Very well," commented Ralph quietly.
"Pending an investigation of the smash up of this afternoon."
"I apprehended it."
"Do you know what that means?" cried Denny, growing excited-"red tape. Do you know what red tape means? Delay, bother, no satisfaction, tire you out, get you out, throw you out! They catch weasels asleep, though, ha! ha! when they try it on two old war-horses like Tim and me!"
Big Denny hugged himself in the enjoyment of some pleasing idea not yet fully expressed.
"Here's the program," he went on: "the inspector came to Forgan. He'd got hold of the smashed roundhouse wall incident, and he had hold of the freight smash-up to-day. Said an example must be made, system must be preserved, at least a report to headquarters, and an investigation."
"What did Mr. Forgan say?" inquired Ralph.
"Listened-solemnly, didn't say a word."
"Oh!"
"Until Bardon asked him bluntly to lay you off."
"And then?"
"Refused-point-blank. Bardon left in a huff, with a threat; Tim gave me my point. I followed him. Well, soon as he gets back to Springfield he's going to get an order over Forgan's head to lay you off."
"Can he do it?"
"He won't do it."
"Why not?"
"For a simple reason."
"Which is?"
"We block his game. Have you got pen, ink and paper in the house?"
"Yes."
"Fetch it out."
Ralph wondered a little, but realized that he was in the hands of loyal friends.
"Now then, you write," directed Denny. "Mind you, Forgan is in this with me. You write."
"Write what?"
"Your resignation from railroad service."
"Whew!" exclaimed Ralph, putting down the pen forcibly.
"Looks hard, does it?" chuckled Denny.
"Why-yes."
"You'll do it, just the same," predicted the big watchman. "That resignation goes to headquarters. That ends Ralph Fairbanks, wiper, doesn't it?"
"I suppose it does-it looks very much like it!" added Ralph vaguely.
"It baffles Mr. Inspector Bardon, who drops the matter, beaten."
"But I've got to work for a living," suggested Ralph, in a half-troubled way.
"All right, we've fixed that-that's another section of the same game. Write out your resignation, and I'll tell you something interesting. Good!"
With complacency and satisfaction the watchman folded up and pocketed the resignation that Ralph wrote and handed him with evident reluctance.
"That settles the fact that Ralph Fairbanks is not a discharged employee!" chuckled Denny. "Now then, sign that."
The watchman had produced two papers. In astonishment Ralph recognized one as a check drawn in his favor by the railroad company for twenty dollars.
The other was a receipt witnessing that he had been reimbursed for time, damage to wearing apparel and railroad expenses the night he had discovered the stolen brass fittings. In brackets was the notation: "Special Service work."
"But I only spent thirty-five cents for car fare, and the suit of clothes I soaked is as good as ever," declared Ralph.
"You do as you're told, Fairbanks," directed Denny, with a magnanimous wave of his hand. "Now then, we, Tim and I and Matthewson, the road detective, estimate you had better keep active hands off railroading for about two weeks. In the meantime, Matthewson says you can take a run between here and Dover."
"That's where the stolen stuff, and horse and wagon, and Ike Slump and the tramp were started for," said Ralph.
"Exactly. They did not arrive. Matthewson's men have failed to discover the least trace of the layout after leaving Stanley Junction."
"Does he expect me to?"
"Who can tell-he wants you to try. Has considerable faith in your abilities-as we have. He gives you two weeks at ten dollars a week. Here's your credentials-pass on any hand car, freight train, box or gondola, passenger coach, smoker or parlor car, locomotive, freight, switch or passenger, on the Great Northern and all its branches."
Ralph caught his breath short and quick. This remarkable dovetailing of events and prospects was rather exciting.
Having got rid of his budget of intelligence, Big Denny subsided somewhat. He had something more on his mind, however, and he began in a more serious way:
"And now, Fairbanks, for the real milk in the cocoanut."
"You don't mean to say this isn't all?"
"Scarcely. We might have taken care of you in a less complicated way, only that we made a certain discovery."
Ralph looked interested and expectant.
"It was this: Bardon, the inspector, Bardon, the ex-spy, is connected with Mr. Gasper Farrington."
Ralph said nothing. He recalled, however, the threat of the crafty old capitalist. His enemy had started in to use his influence.
"Yes," declared Denny, "Bardon went straight to Farrington's house. When he left there he went to find some old-time cronies at the Junction Hotel. I had a friend listening to some of his boastful talk. We know at this moment that Gasper Farrington offers him five hundred dollars to get you discharged and away from Stanley Junction."
"Which he won't do!" said Ralph very positively.
"Not while Tim and I are on deck," declared Denny as positively. "Listen, Fairbanks: before Saturday night Forgan will see the master mechanic, before the following Wednesday the master mechanic will see the division superintendent, before the following Saturday the president of the road will have in his possession your full and complete record, beginning with your heroic conduct at the fire at the yards, the rescue of little Nora Forgan, the discovery of the stolen fittings, the saving of the show car to-day, and your general good conduct and efficiency in the service."
Ralph flushed at the hearty encomiums of this loyal old friend.
"In another week," continued Denny, rolling the words over in his mouth and sprawling out with a sense of the keenest enjoyment, "we guarantee, Tim and I, a letter, something like this: 'Mr. Ralph Fairbanks: Dear Sir: Please come back to work.'"
"I'll thank you," said Ralph, with bright, glad, shining eyes. "My old place again-as wiper."
"Not much!" negatived Big Denny, looking bigger than ever as he rose to the full magnitude of his final declaration-"as switch towerman for the Great Northern Railway at sixty dollars a month!"
CHAPTER XXVI-A ROVING COMMISSION
It was difficult for Ralph to sleep after the departure of Big Denny. He was still under the disturbing influence of the exciting events of the afternoon and evening. His mother had not been disturbed by the watchman's visit. Ralph finally strolled out into the garden, and sat down in the little summer house to rest and think.
He did not exactly feel as though he were at the height of his ambition, but Ralph did feel exceedingly thankful and encouraged. He valued most the friends he had gained personally, from the lowly walks of life it was true, but who had been bettered and elevated by the contact.
The pre-eminent thought now in Ralph's mind was concerning Gasper Farrington. Had things gone on smoothly, and had the magnate left him alone, Ralph might have been inclined to accept the situation. His mother did not care to rouse a sleeping enemy, and he would have respected her decision. But now that Farrington had so palpably shown his intentions, had declared war to the knife, bitter and vindictive, all the fighting instincts in Ralph's nature arose to the crisis.
"I shall not take Mr. Matthewson's ten dollars a week unless I find the stolen plunder and really earn the money," Ralph reflected. "It is hardly probable I shall succeed along that line, after his expert assistants have failed. But in trying to locate Van's friends I shall probably be in the neighborhood of Dover, and I may stumble across some clew to Ike Slump's whereabouts."
Ralph went inside the house after an hour and brought out a railroad map. He studied the route of the Great Northern and the location of Dover, and went to bed full of the plan of his projected journey.
He showed his mother the check for the twenty dollars and his pass over the road the next morning, and explained his projects fully. They met with the widow's approbation.
"Not that I want to get rid of Van," she said feelingly. "He has grown very dear to me, Ralph. Poor fellow! Perhaps it is his affliction that appeals to me, but I should be very lonely with him away."
"I do not think he has many friends who care for him," theorized Ralph, "or there would have been some search, or inquiry through the newspapers."
After breakfast Ralph went to the depot. He found his young pensioner, Teddy, in high feather over success in getting two hours' regular employment a day delivering bundles for a drygoods store. Ralph gave him some encouraging advice, and went to see the young doctor who had attended Van.
He explained his intended experiment clearly, and asked the physician's opinion as to its practicability.
"Try it by all means," advised the doctor heartily. "It can do no harm, and the sight of some familiar place may be the first step towards clearing the lad's clouded mind. A great shock robbed him of reason; a like event, such as strong, sudden confrontation by some person or place he has known for years, may restore memory instantly."
Ralph was encouraged. When he went home he sat down with Van and tried to fix his attention.
It was very difficult. His strange guest would listen and look pleased at his attention, but his eyes would wander irresistibly after some fluttering butterfly, or with a gleam of satisfaction over to the wood pile his careful manipulation had made as neat and symmetrical as a storekeeper's show case.
Ralph pronounced in turn the name of every station on the main line of the Great Northern, but Van betokened no recognition of any of them.
Ralph waited in the neighborhood of Griscom's house after the 10.15 express came in, and intercepted the engineer on his way homeward.
He showed his pass and explained his project. He wanted Griscom to allow himself and Van to ride on the tender to the end of his run and back.
"That's all right, Fairbanks," said the engineer, "pass or no pass. Be on hand at the water tank yonder as we pull out the afternoon train. I'll slow up and take you on."
Ralph tried to express to Van that afternoon that they were going on a journey. Van only looked fixedly at him, but when Mrs. Fairbanks handed him a parcel of lunch, he proudly stowed it under one arm, and when she put on him a clean collar and necktie, he showed more than normal animation, as though he caught a dim inkling that something out of the usual was on the programme.
Van went placidly with Ralph. The afternoon train came along a few minutes after they had reached the water tank.
"Now then," said Ralph, as Griscom slowed up, "be lively, Van!"
His words may have conveyed no particular meaning to his companion, but the approaching train, the picturesque track environment and Ralph's energetic motions roused up Van, whose face betokened an eagerness out of the common as he commented:
"Engine."
"Yes, Van."
"Ride."
Ralph bundled him up into the cab, clambered back into the tender, and made a comfortable seat for Van on top of the coal.
On that perch the lad seemed a happy monarch of all he surveyed. Ralph realized that the variety and excitement had a stimulating influence on his mind, and that even if nothing materialized in the way of discoveries from the trip, the general effect on Van would be at least beneficial.
Griscom tossed a cheery word to his young passengers ever and anon. His fireman, a new hand, was kept busy at the shovel, and had no time to inspect or chum with the boys.
They passed station after station. Ralph kept a close watch on Van's face. It was as expressionless as ever. His eyes roamed everywhere, and he was evidently at the pinnacle of complacent enjoyment.
Outside of that, however, Van gave no indication that he saw anything in the landscape or the depot crowds they passed that touched a responsive chord of recognition in his nature.
Forty miles down the road was Wilmer. It was quite a town. Southwest forty miles lay Dover, and west was the wild, wooded stretch known as "The Barrens." This was no misnomer. There were said to be less than twenty habitations in the desolate eighty miles of territory.
The Great Northern had originally surveyed ten miles into this section with the intention of crossing it, as by that route it could strike a favorable terminal point at a great economy of distance. The difficulties of clearing and grading were found so unsurmountable for an infant road, however, that the project had been finally abandoned.
They passed Wilmer. Signals called for "slow" ahead, as a freight was running for a siding. They had barely reached the limits of the town when Griscom put on a little more speed.
"Whoop!" yelled Van suddenly.
Ralph had shifted his seat on account of some undermining of the coal supply, and at just that moment for the first time was away from the side of his fellow passenger.
Before he could clamber over the coal heap Van had arisen to his feet.
"Stop, Van!" shouted Ralph.
But Van's eyes were fixed on the little winding country road lining the railway fence at the bottom of the embankment.
An antiquated gig, well loaded and attached to a sorry looking nag, and driven by a man well muffled up in a dilapidated linen duster, was plodding along the dusty thoroughfare.
Upon this outfit Van's eyes appeared to be set. His hand waved nervously, and he seemed to forget where he was, and was not conscious of what he was doing.
He was in the act of stepping off into nothingness, and in a quiver of dread Ralph yelled to the engineer:
"Mr. Griscom, stop! stop!"
But the engineer's hearing was occupied with the hiss of steam directly around him, and his attention riveted on signals ahead.
Ralph made a spring. Some lumps of coal slipped under his hasty footing. His hand just grazed a disappearing foot.
The train was going about fifteen miles an hour, and Van had recklessly taken a header down the embankment.