Ralph on the Engine: or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail
TekstCHAPTER XVI
CAR NO. 9176
“Burned out!” exclaimed Ralph, deeply concerned.
“Yes,” nodded Joe, a trifle dolefully. “Labors of years in ashes – Limpy Joe’s Railroad Restaurant a thing of the past.”
“How did it happen?”
“Spite work. Three nights ago, late in the evening, Ike Slump appeared at the restaurant and demanded a free meal. I gave it to him. Then he demanded some money, and I refused it. He became bold and ugly, and told us how his crowd had it in for us, that they knew I had some hand in helping you get that stolen plunder, and would fix us sooner or later. He advised me to buy them off. I sent him away. Last night we discovered the place on fire, and it was burned to the ground.”
Ralph was deeply distressed over his friend’s misfortune. The lame fellow, however, was undaunted. He deplored his loss, but he was by no means discouraged.
“Thankful to have the horse and wagon left,” he said. “I can always earn a living with that. Besides that, we saw Van Sherwin the other day. He is getting on finely, and I think we could get work on the Short Line Railroad. For the present, though, I am going to stay at Stanley Junction. I have a dozen plans for getting a little money together. Will you try us as boarders for a week or two, Ralph?”
“I answered that question a few minutes ago,” reminded Mrs. Fairbanks, “and if you two will sleep in the same room, you will cause no inconvenience whatever.”
“And you, Zeph?” said Ralph, turning to the farmer boy.
Zeph had been strangely silent. He appeared to be trying to look very dignified and much absorbed in thought.
“Oh, me?” he said now. “Why, I’m already at work. Commence to-night. Call boy at the roundhouse. Old one is with the strikers. Mr. Forgan engaged me this afternoon.”
“Why, that is fine,” said Ralph. “A start in the right direction. Look out for the strikers, though, Zeph.”
“Don’t fret about me,” advised Zeph. “I’m a fighter when aroused. See, here is my list to call in the morning,” and he showed Ralph a slip of paper containing about a dozen names.
Ralph read it over, and after a meal went out with Zeph and showed him the location of the homes of those named in the list.
“This job is all right,” said Zeph, as they returned to the house, “but it is only a sort of side line with me.”
“Indeed?” smiled Ralph, amused at the off-hand, yet self-important manner of his companion.
“Oh, yes.”
“How is that?”
“Simply want to get into the service so as to have the privilege of riding around on engines when I want to. It sort of introduces me, you see.”
“What do you want to ride around on engines for?” asked Ralph. “You can’t afford to waste your time that way.”
“Waste my time? waste my time?” repeated Zeph. “Huh, guess you don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m on the trail of a big fortune.”
“You don’t say so.”
“I do. Ralph Fairbanks, I’ll let you into the secret. You’ve been a good friend to me, and you shall help me.”
“What ridiculous nonsense are you talking, Zeph?”
“You’ll see whether it’s nonsense or not when some day I walk in on you with a fortune. Now, this is on the dead quiet, Fairbanks?”
“Oh, sure,” laughed Ralph.
“Very well. I met a fellow the other day, who is a car finder.”
“Mr. Drury, you mean?” asked Ralph.
“How did you know?” questioned Zeph in surprise.
“He told me he had met you, and agreed with me that you were a pretty fair kind of a fellow.”
“Did he?” said Zeph, very much pleased at the double compliment. “Well, I got interested in his business and he finally gave me a – a – well a job, you might call it.”
“Salary big, Zeph?”
“No salary at all,” responded Zeph. “It’s a partnership deal. If I find certain property, I am to have a big reward to divide with him.”
“What kind of property?”
“Diamonds.”
“Oh, going digging for them?”
“Don’t make fun of me, Fairbanks,” said Zeph in a slightly offended tone. “This is a fair and square business proposition. About five years ago a car was lost, presumably on the Great Northern. At least, it can be traced no farther than the terminus of the Midland Central, where it was switched onto this line here. There all trace of it was lost.”
“Valuable freight aboard?”
“No, on the contrary, it was empty, but, all the same, between sealed boards and the rough ones a pocketbook containing a lot of valuable diamonds was hidden.”
“Who by?”
“A traveling jewelry salesman named Isaacs.”
“What did he hide it there for?”
“He had to. You see, he was on another railroad line and crossing some tracks when some footpads assaulted him. He managed to escape and got into the empty car I told you about. Then he heard them coming to search for him, and hid the diamonds in a break of the boards at one side of the car.”
“I see.”
“They dragged him out, beat him into insensibility and stole all his money. He woke up in a hospital a month later, after a siege of fever. The first thing he thought of was the diamonds and the car. He had taken particular pains to note the number of the car.”
“What was it, may I ask?”
“Confidentially?”
“Of course.”
“It belonged to the Southern Air Line Road, and its number was 9176.”
“Why, you are telling a very interesting story,” declared Ralph, now really interested in the same. “He searched for the car, of course?”
“At once. He telegraphed everywhere; he advertised; he employed detectives. It was no use. During the month of his illness, car No. 9176 had disappeared.”
“That looks mysterious.”
“The car finder says not at all. Such things happen frequently. But it went somewhere, didn’t it? It may be lying on some old siding, in some creek after a wreck, stolen by gravel pit men, or in service still on some line. One thing is sure, if in existence still, it must be on one of four railroad lines, and the Great Northern is one of those roads.”
“What do you propose to do?” inquired Ralph.
“Go over every one of those lines carefully.”
“But Mr. Drury has done that already, has he not?”
“What of it? A first search doesn’t always bring results. He has given me full details as to the car, and, according to the records, it was lost on the Great Northern. In a day or two I am going to have a look at the transfer records at Dover. Then I am going to look up the trainmen who probably hauled the car. Oh, I have a theory and a plan. If I find the car I shall be almost rich.”
“Not a bad prospect, Zeph,” said Ralph, “but if I were you I would stick at regular work and make the search for that car a secondary matter.”
“You’ll remember it and help me out if you can?” asked Zeph.
“Surely I will,” and Ralph made a note of the number of the car in his memorandum book.
When the young fireman arose the next morning, he found Zeph seated on the front porch lounging back in an easy chair and his face all bandaged up. Mrs. Fairbanks stood near by, regarding her guest solicitously.
“Why, what is the matter, Zeph?” inquired Ralph in profound surprise.
“Whipped four men, that’s all,” answered Zeph with a smile that was almost ghastly, for his lips were all cut and swollen up, one eye disfigured and two teeth gone. “I went on my rounds this morning. I made sure to wake up the fellows on call, and one of them threatened to kill me if I ever came to his door again with that ‘fog-horn holler’ of mine, as he called it. The night watch-man said he’d arrest me for disturbing the peace. I didn’t mind that. Then I ran across four strikers. They wanted me to join them. I refused, and – that’s all, except that I’ll bet they are worse off than I am, if it was four to one.”
“Going to keep right on at your job?” inquired Ralph.
“Am I?” cried the undaunted Zeph. “Well, if anything would make me it would be this attack on me. Tell you, Fairbanks, hot times are coming. Forgan was on duty all night, and he told me this morning to advise you to be extra cautious in coming to work. The strikers are in an ugly mood, and they are going to make a bold break to smash up things to-day, they threaten.”
“Yes,” sighed Ralph, “affairs must come to a crisis sooner or later, I fear. Duty is plain, though. I shall stick to Griscom, and Griscom insists that he will stick to the road.”
Mrs. Fairbanks looked anxious and frightened. Turning to enter the house, the young fireman started violently and his mother and Zeph uttered exclamations of excitement.
A terrific explosion had rent the air. Its echoes rang out far and wide, and its source seemed to be the railroad depot.
“Oh, Ralph! what does that mean?” cried Mrs. Fairbanks.
“I fear,” said Ralph seriously, “the strikers are rioting and the trouble has begun.”
CHAPTER XVII
UNDER SEALED ORDERS
The young fireman was soon headed for the railroad yards. A good many people were bound hurriedly in the same direction, for the explosion had aroused the town.
As he neared the place, he could hear considerable shouting. He came to the tracks at a point where there was a switch shanty. The man on duty looked worried and scared.
“What is the trouble?” inquired Ralph.
“The strikers have blown up a freight car with dynamite,” replied the flagman. “They have threatened me, old and feeble as I am. I’m afraid I’ll have to lay off till this trouble is over.”
In the distance Ralph saw the mere skeleton of a freight car. It was in flames, and a number of men were pushing other cars from its vicinity to prevent them from catching on fire. A man tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, Ralph recognized one of the strikers.
“See here, Fairbanks,” he said, “I’m of the decent sort, as you know, but I think our position is right.”
“Does that look like it?” demanded the young fireman, pointing to the burning car.
“I’m not responsible for that,” said the man, “and I can’t prevent the hot-headed ones from violence. I know you won’t join us, but I’m just friendly enough to give you a warning. Don’t go on duty to-day.”
“I certainly shall, if I am needed,” replied Ralph. “Your union is in bad hands, and can’t last.”
The man shrugged his shoulders and Ralph passed on his way. A piece of coal came whizzing through the air a few minutes later from the vicinity of a crowd of loiterers. It knocked off the young fireman’s cap. He picked it up and walked slowly on.
When he came to the roundhouse, he found the doors shut. Most of the windows in the place were broken in. Several target rods near by lay on the ground, and at a glance Ralph saw that considerable damage had been wrought during the night.
“There must be a crisis soon,” he said, and went to the roundhouse door. Before he was admitted several stones rained about him, thrown from behind a pile of ties. Inside, Ralph found Griscom and several others among the older engineers and firemen. All hands looked serious, the foreman particularly so.
“Glad you came,” said Forgan. “There’s bad trouble brewing. The strike has reached the danger point. We can’t run any regulars from the depot and won’t try to to-day, but the Limited Mail must go to terminus. Griscom is ready for the run; are you? The regular engineer and fireman say they won’t risk their lives.”
“I did not see the train anywhere,” observed Ralph.
“There is to be no regular train, only one postal and one express car. They will back down here in half-an-hour from the limits. Here is a wire for you. Came early this morning.”
With some surprise Ralph read a brief telegram. It came from the headquarters of the Great Northern in the city, was signed by the president of the road, and read:
“Come to my office immediately on reaching terminus.”
Ralph showed this to Griscom. The situation was discussed by the men in the roundhouse, and the time passed by until a sharp whistle announced the arrival of the Limited Mail.
As Griscom and Ralph went outside to relieve those temporarily in charge of the locomotive, they were pelted from several points with pieces of dirt, iron and coal. A crowd surged up to the engine. Then a startling thing occurred that dispersed them more quickly than they had gathered.
As if by magic there appeared on the platforms of the two coaches fully a dozen guards armed with rifles. The train now proceeded on its way without molestation. At the limits the guards left it to protect other railroad property.
The only trouble experienced during the run was between Afton and Dover, when some missiles were thrown and two switches found spiked. When they reached the city, Ralph tidied up and went to see the president of the road.
Mr. Grant received him with a pleasant smile, beckoned him to a comfortable seat, and, closing the door of his private office, said:
“Fairbanks, we think a good deal of you, and I know you deserve that favorable opinion. There are many trusted and reliable men in our service, but they do not think as quickly as you do. You are familiar with people at Stanley Junction, and on that account I wish you to do an important service for us.”
“I shall be pleased to,” said Ralph.
“It is this: Some one is working against us, some one is undermining us. We now believe that the sympathetic strike, as it is called, is more the result of some plot than a genuine sentiment of unionism. A man named Delmay, from the Midland Central, and a man named Evans, a discharged employe of our road, are at the head of the movement. Both are persons of bad record in every way.”
“I know that,” murmured Ralph.
“We believe that these men are hired to promote the strike.”
“Why, by whom, Mr. Grant?” inquired Ralph in considerable surprise.
“That we wish you to find out. All we suspect is that some outside party is inciting them to the strike to carry out some selfish personal ends. You must find out who he is. You must discover his motives.”
Ralph was perplexed. He could not understand the situation at all.
“I will do all I can in the line you suggest, sir,” he said, “although I hardly know where to begin.”
“You will find a way to make your investigation,” declared the president of the Great Northern. “I rely a great deal upon your ability already displayed in ferreting out mysteries, and on your good, solid, common sense in going to work cautiously and intelligently on a proposition. You can tell Forgan you are relieved on special service and wire me personally when you make any discoveries.”
Ralph arose to leave the room.
“Wait a moment,” continued Mr. Grant, taking up an envelope. “I wish you to hand this to Griscom. The Limited Mail will not make any return trip to-night. Instead, a special will be ready for you. You need mention this to no one. That envelope contains sealed orders and is not to be opened until you start on your trip. The superintendent of the road will see you leave and will give you all further instructions needed.”
There was a certain air of mystery to this situation that perplexed Ralph. He reported to Griscom, who took the letter with a curious smile.
“Must be something extra going on down the road,” he observed. “Wonder what? Start after dark, too. Hello, I say – the pay car.”
They had come to the depot to observe an engine, two cars attached, and the superintendent standing on the platform conversing with a man attired in the garb of a fireman.
The latter was a sturdy man of middle age, one of the best firemen on the road, as Ralph knew. He nodded to Griscom and Ralph, while the superintendent said:
“Fairbanks, this man will relieve you on the run.”
Ralph looked surprised.
“Why,” he said, “then I am not to go on this trip?”
“Oh, yes,” answered the official with a grim smile, – “that is, if you are willing, but it must be as a passenger.”
Ralph glanced at the passenger coach. Inside were half-a-dozen guards.
“Not in there,” replied the superintendent, “We want you to occupy the pay car here. Everything is ready for you.”
“All right,” said Ralph.
“Come on, then.”
The superintendent unlocked the heavy rear door of the pay car, led the way to the tightly sealed front compartment, and there Ralph found a table, chair, cot, a pail of drinking water and some eatables.
“You can make yourself comfortable,” said the official. “There will probably be no trouble, but if there is, operate this wire.”
The speaker pointed to a wire running parallel with the bell rope to both ends of the train. On the table lay a rifle. The only openings in the car were small grated windows at either end.
The official left the car, locking in Ralph. The young fireman observed a small safe at one end of the car.
“Probably contains a good many thousands of dollars,” he reflected. “Well, here is a newspaper, and I shall try to pass the time comfortably.”
By getting on a chair and peering through the front ventilator, Ralph could obtain a fair view of the locomotive. The train started up, and made good time the first thirty miles. Then Ralph knew from a halt and considerable switching that they were off the main rails.
“Why,” he said, peering through the grating, “they have switched onto the old cut-off between Dover and Afton.”
That had really occurred, as the young fireman learned later. The officials of the road, it appeared, feared most an attack between those two points, and the sealed orders had directed Griscom to take the old, unused route, making a long circuit to the main line again.
Ralph remembered going over this route once – rusted rails, sinking roadbed, watery wastes at places flooding the tracks. He kept at the grating most of the time now, wondering if Griscom could pilot them through in safety.
Finally there was a whistle as if in response to a signal, then a sudden stop and then a terrible jar. Ralph ran to the rear grating.
“Why,” he cried, “the guard car has been detached, there are Mr. Griscom and the engineer in the ditch, and the locomotive and pay car running away.”
He could look along the tracks and observe all this. Engineer and fireman had apparently been knocked from the cab. Some one was on the rear platform of the pay car, a man who was now clambering to its roof. The guards ran out of the detached coach and fired after the stolen train, but were too late.
Rapidly the train sped along. Ralph ran to the front grating. The locomotive was in strange hands and the tender crowded with strange men.
“It’s a plain case,” said Ralph. “These men have succeeded in stealing the pay car, and that little safe in the corner is what they are after.”
The train ran on through a desolate waste, then across a trestle built over a swampy stretch of land. At its center there was a jog, a rattle, the tracks gave way, and almost with a crash, the train came to a halt.
It took some time to get righted again, and the train proceeded very slowly. Ralph had done a good deal of thinking. He knew that soon the robbers would reach some spot where they would attack the pay car.
“I must defeat their purpose,” he said to himself. “I can’t let myself out, but – the safe! A good idea.”
Ralph settled upon a plan of action. He was busily engaged during the next half hour. When the train came to a final stop, there was an active scene about it.
Half-a-dozen men, securing tools from the locomotive, started to break in the door of the pay car. In this they soon succeeded.
They went inside. The safe was the object of all their plotting and planning, but the safe was gone, and Ralph Fairbanks was nowhere in the pay car.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE STRIKE LEADER
Ralph felt that he had done a decidedly timely and clever act in outwitting the train robbers. He had left the car almost as it stopped, and under the cover of the dark night had gained the shelter of the timber lining the track.
The young fireman waited until the men came rushing out of the car. They were dismayed and furious, and, leaving them in a noisy and excited consultation, Ralph started back towards the trestle work.
“They won’t get the safe, that is sure,” said the young railroader in tones of great satisfaction, as he hurried along in the pelting storm. “They will scarcely pursue me. It is pretty certain, however, that they will be pursued, and I may meet an engine before I reach Dover.”
Just as he neared the end of the trestle Ralph saw at some distance the glint of a headlight. It was unsteady, indicating the uncertain character of the roadbed.
“About two miles away,” decided the young fireman. “I must manage to stop them.”
With considerable difficulty, Ralph secured sufficient dry wood and leaves in among some bushes to start a fire between the rails and soon had a brisk blaze going. The headlight came nearer and nearer. A locomotive halted. Ralph ran up to the cab.
It contained Griscom, the city fireman and two men armed with rifles. The old engineer peered keenly at the figure, quickly springing to the step of the engine.
“You, lad?” he cried heartily. “I’m glad of that. Where is the train?”
“About two miles further on beyond the trestle.”
“And the pay car?”
“The robbers were in possession when I left them.”
“Then they will get away with the safe!” cried the engineer excitedly.
“Hardly,” observed Ralph, with a smile.
“Eh, lad, what do you mean?”
“What I say. Truth is, I saw what was coming. There was only one thing to do. There were tools in the car. I sawed a hole through the floor of the car, rolled the safe to it, and dumped it through. It went between two rotten ties, and lies in the swamp – safe.”
With a shout of delight old John Griscom slapped his young assistant admiringly on the shoulder.
“Fairbanks,” he cried, “you’re a jewel! Mate,” to the fireman, “this is glad news.”
“It is, indeed,” said his companion. “I wouldn’t like the record of losing that safe. Can you locate the spot, Fairbanks?”
“It may take some trouble,” answered Ralph. “The best thing to do is to get a wrecking car here; meantime, the trestle should be guarded.”
They ran on and up to the spot where the stolen train was halted, but found the vicinity deserted. It seemed that whatever the robbers had guessed out as to the mystery of the safe, they did not consider there was any chance of recovering it.
The two men armed with rifles remained at the trestle, while the others took the stolen pay car back to Dover. Once there, Griscom kept the wires busy for a time. About daylight a wrecking crew was made up. Ralph accompanied them to the scene of the attempted robbery.
He could fairly estimate the locality of the sunken safe, and some abrasions of the ties finally indicated the exact spot where the safe had gone through into the water below. It was grappled for, found, and before noon that day the pay car train arrived at Stanley Junction with the safe aboard.
Affairs at the terminal town were still in an unsettled condition. The presence of armed guards prevented wholesale attacks on the railroad property, but there were many assaults on workmen at lonely spots, switches tampered with and shanty windows broken in.
Ralph reported to Tim Forgan and then went home. He went to sleep at once, awoke refreshed about the middle of the afternoon, and then told his mother all the occurrences of that day and the preceding one.
While Mrs. Fairbanks was pleased at the confidence reposed in her son by the railroad authorities, she was considerably worried at the constant turmoil and dangers of the present railroad situation. Ralph, however, assured her that he would take care of himself, and left the house trying to form some plan to follow out the instructions of the president of the Great Northern.
He could not go among the strikers, and without doing so, or sending a spy among them, it would be difficult to ascertain their motives and projects. Coming around a street corner, the young fireman halted abruptly.
A procession of strikers was coming down the street. They were a noisy, turbulent mob, cheered on by like rowdyish sympathizers lining the pavements.
“Why, impossible!” exclaimed Ralph, as he noticed by the side of Jim Evans, the leader of the crowd, his young friend, Zeph Dallas.
The latter seemed to share the excitement of the paraders. He acted as if he gloried in being a striker, and the familiar way Evans treated him indicated that the latter regarded him as a genuine, first-class recruit.
Zeph caught Ralph’s eye and then looked quickly away. The young fireman was dreadfully disappointed in the farmer boy. He went at once to the roundhouse, where the foreman told him that Zeph had deserted the afternoon previous.
“I don’t understand it,” said Forgan. “The lad seemed to hate the strikers for attacking him the other night. I suppose, though, it’s with him like a good many others – there’s lots of ‘relief money’ being given out, and that’s the bait that catches them.”
“I must manage to see Zeph,” mused Ralph. “I declare, I can hardly believe he is really on their side. I wonder how near I dare venture to the headquarters of that mob.”
The young fireman went to the vicinity of the hall occupied by the strikers, but he did not meet Zeph. Then Ralph proceeded to the business portion of Stanley Junction. He visited the bank and several other leading local business institutions. He made a great many inquiries and he felt that he was on the edge of some important discoveries.
When he got home he found Zeph sitting on the porch, smiling as ever. Ralph nodded seriously to him. Zeph grinned outright.
“What’s that kind of a welcome for, eh?” he demanded.
“Sorry to see you in the ranks of the strikers to-day, Zeph,” observed Ralph.
“Ought to be glad.”
“What?”
“I suppose a fellow is free to follow out his convictions, isn’t he?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, I’m following out mine,” declared Zeph – “the conviction that of all the mean rascals in this burg, Jim Evans is the meanest. See here, Fairbanks, have you lost your wits? Do you really for one minute suppose I sympathize with those fellows?”
“You seemed pretty close to Evans.”
“Grand!” chuckled Zeph. “That’s just what I was working for. See here, I made up my mind that those fellows were up to more mischief than what they have already done. I concluded there was something under the surface of this pretended strike. I wanted to find out. I have.”
Ralph looked very much interested now. He began to see the light.
“Go on, Zeph,” he said.
“Well, I found out just what I suspected – some one is furnishing the strikers with money, and lots of it.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“I don’t, but I do know one thing: every day Evans goes to the office of a certain lawyer in town here. They have a long consultation. Evans always comes away very much satisfied and with more money.”
“What’s the lawyer’s name, Zeph?” inquired Ralph.
“Bartlett.”
Just then they were called in to supper by Mrs. Fairbanks. Ralph was silent and thoughtful during most of the meal.
The young fireman had learned that afternoon that a stranger named Bartlett had been buying up all the stock of the railroad he could secure. The man was not in good repute at Stanley Junction. He had come there only the week previous, Ralph was told, and occupied a mean little room in the main office building of the town.
After supper Ralph strolled down town. He entered the building in question and ascended its stairs. He knew the occupants of most of the offices, and finally located a room which contained a light but had no sign on the door.
Footsteps ascending the stairs caused the young fireman to draw back into the shadow. A man came into view and knocked noisily at the closed door.
“Here I am, Bartlett,” said the fellow, lurching about in an unsteady way.
“I see you are,” responded the man inside the room, “primed for work, too, it seems to me.”
Ralph could not repress some excitement. The man Bartlett he instantly recognized as the person who had delivered to him in the city the papers from Gasper Farrington. His visitor he knew to be a discharged telegraph operator of the Great Northern.
“Yes,” said the latter, as the door closed on him, “I’m ready for work, so bring on your wire-tapping scheme soon as you like.”