Ralph of the Roundhouse; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER VII--AT THE ROUNDHOUSE

  Ralph Fairbanks came out of the little cottage next morning afterbreakfast feeling bright as a dollar and happy as a lark.

  He realized that a new epoch had begun in his young existence, and hestood fairly on the threshold of a fascinating experience.

  Yesterday seemed like a variegated dream, and To-Day full ofexpectation, novelty and promise.

  His mother's anxiety the evening previous had given way to pride andsubdued affection, when he had appeared about ten o'clock after seeingthe engineer home, and had told her in detail the story of the mosteventful day of his life.

  If Mrs. Fairbanks felt a natural disappointment in seeing Ralph foregothe advantages of a finished education, she did not express it, for sheknew that the best ambitions of his soul had been aroused, and that hisloyal boyish nature had chosen a noble course.

  Ralph went down to the depot and bought a Springfield morning paper. Itcontained a full account of the fire at the yards. It detailed thedestruction of the powder car, and Griscom came in for full meed ofpraise. Ralph was not referred to, except as "the veteran engineer'sheroic helper."

  It did not take long, however, for Ralph to discover that word of mouthhad run ahead of telegraphic haste.

  He was hailed by a dozen acquaintances, including the depot master, thewatchman, express messenger and others, who made him flush and thrillwith pleasure as he guessed that old Griscom had managed to spread thereal news wholesale.

  "You're booked, sure!" declared More, giving his young favorite a heartyslap on the shoulder.

  "Why, I imagine so myself," answered Ralph brightly, but thinking onlyof the master mechanic's card in his pocket.

  "You're due for an interview with the president, you are," declared theenthusiastic More. "Why, you two saved the company half a million. Andthe pluck of it! Don't you be modest, kid. Hint for a good roundreward and a soft-snap life position."

  "All right," nodded Ralph gayly. "Only, I'll start at it where you toldme yesterday."

  "Eh?"

  "Yes--at the roundhouse."

  "Hold on, Fairbanks--circumstances alter cases----"

  "Not in this instance. Good-bye. I expect to be in working togs beforenight, Mr. More."

  Ralph went down the tracks, leaving the agent staring studiously afterhim.

  He had often been inside the roundhouse, but with genuine interest stoodlooking about him for some minutes after stepping beyond the broadentrance of that dome-like structure.

  Not much was doing at that especial hour of the morning. Three "dead"locomotives stood in their stalls, all furbished up for lateremployment.

  A lame helper was going over one, just arrived, with an oiled rag.

  In the little apartment known as the "dog house," a dozen men chatted,snoozed, or were playing checkers--firemen, engineers and brakemen,waiting for their run, or off duty and killing time.

  Ralph finally made for a box-like compartment built in one section ofthe place. A man was sweeping it out.

  "Can you tell me where I will find the foreman?" he asked.

  "Oh, the boss?"

  "Yes, sir--Mr. Forgan."

  "You mean Tim. He's in the dog house, I guess. Was, last I saw ofhim."

  Ralph went to the dog house. At a rough board nailed to the wall, andanswering for a desk, a big-shouldered, gruff-looking man of about fiftywas scanning the daily running sheet.

  Two of the loungers, firemen, knew Ralph slightly, and nodded to him. Hewent up to one of them.

  "Is that Mr. Forgan?" he inquired in a low tone.

  "That's him," nodded the fireman--"and in his precious best temper thismorning, too!"

  Ralph approached the fierce-visaged master of his fate.

  "Mr. Forgan," he said.

  The foreman looked around at him, and scowled.

  "Well?" he growled out.

  "Could I see you for a moment," suggested Ralph, a trifle flustered atthe rude reception.

  "Take a good look. I'm here, ain't I?"

  Some of the idle listeners chuckled at this, and Ralph felt a trifleembarrassed, and flushed up.

  "Yes, sir, and so am I," he said quietly--"on business. I wish to applyfor a position."

  "Oh, you do?" retorted the big foreman, running his eye contemptuouslyover Ralph's neat dress. "Sort of floor-walker for visitors, orbrushing up the engineers' plug hats?"

  "I could do that, too," asserted Ralph, good-naturedly.

  "Well, you won't do much of anything here," retorted the foreman, "forthere's no job open, at present. If there was, we've had quite enoughof kids."

  Ralph wondered if this included Ike Slump. He had been surprised at notfinding that individual on duty.

  The foreman now unceremoniously turned his back on him. Ralphhesitated, then torched Forgan on the arm.

  "Excuse me, sir," he said courteously, "but I was told to give youthis."

  Ralph extended the card given to him the evening previous by the mastermechanic.

  The foreman took it with a jerk, and read it with a frown. Ralph wassomewhat astonished as he traced the effect upon him of the simple note,requesting, as he knew, that a place be made for him in the roundhouse.

  The innocent little screed put the foreman in a violent ferment. Hisface grew angry and red, his throat throbbed, and his heavy jaw knottedup in a pugnacious way. He turned and glared with positive dislike andsuspicion at Ralph, and the latter, quick to read faces, wondered why.

  Then the foreman re-read the card, as if to gain time to get control ofhimself, and was so long silent that Ralph finally asked:

  "Is it all right, sir?"

  "Yes, it is!" snapped the foreman, turning on him like a mad bull. "Isuppose Blake knows his business; I've been sent all the pikers on theline. Probably know what kind of material I want myself, though. Comeagain to-morrow."

  "Ready for work?" asked Ralph, pressing his point.

  "Yes," came the surly reply.

  "What time, if you please, sir?"

  "Seven."

  "Thank you."

  The foreman turned from him with an angry grunt, and Ralph started toleave.

  One of the firemen he knew winked at him, another made an animatedgrimace at the surly boss. Ralph heard a third remark, in a low tone.

  "What a liking he's taken to him! He'll have a fierce run for hismoney."

  "Yes, it'll be a full course of sprouts. You won't have a path offlowers, kid."

  "I shan't come here to raise flowers," answered Ralph quietly.

  He trod the air as he left the roundhouse. The gruff, uncivil manner ofthe foreman had not daunted him a whit. He had met all kinds of men inhis brief business experience, and he believed that honest,conscientious endeavor could not fail to win both success and good willin time.

  Ralph went back to his friend More, at the express shed, and told hisstory.

  "You're booked, sure enough," admitted the agent, though a littleglumly. "I'd have struck higher."

  "It suits me, Mr. More," declared Ralph. "And now, I want your goodservices of advice as to what I am expected to do, and what clothes Ineed."

  Ralph left his friend, thoroughly posted as to his probable duties atthe roundhouse. The agent advised him to purchase a cheap pair ofjumpers, and wear old rough shoes and a thin pair of gloves the firstday or two.

  Ralph visited a dry-goods store, fitted himself out, and started forhome.

  He was absorbed in thinking and planning, and turning a corner thusengrossed almost ran into a pedestrian.

  As he drew back and aside, a hand was suddenly thrust out and seized hisarm in a vise-like grip.

  "No, you don't!" sounded a strident voice. "I've got you at last, haveI?"

  In astonishment Ralph looked up, to recognize his self-announced captor.It was Gasper Farrington.