CHAPTER III
TROUBLE BREWING
The strange boy appeared upon the scene so suddenly that Ralph decidedhe must have reached the roadbed from the other side of the embankment.
The young engineer faced him with a slight start. To his certainknowledge he had never seen the lad before. However, his face sostrongly resembled that of some one he had met recently it puzzledRalph. Whom did those features suggest? Ralph thought hard, but gave itup.
"Did you wish to see me?" he inquired.
The boy had a striking face. It was pale and thin, his clothes were neatbut shabby. There was a sort of scared look in his eyes that appealed toRalph, who was strongly sympathetic.
"I know you," spoke the boy in a hesitating, embarrassed way. "You don'tknow me, but I've had you pointed out to me."
"That so?" and Ralph smiled.
"You are Ralph Fairbanks, the engineer of the Overland Express,"continued the lad in a hushed tone, as if the distinction awed him.
"That's right," nodded Ralph.
"Well, I've heard of you, and you've been a friend to a good manypeople. I hope I'm not over bold, but if you would be a friend to me--"
Here the strange boy paused in a pitiful, longing way that appealed toRalph.
"Go ahead," he said.
"I heard this gentleman," indicating Mr. Fry, "offer to sell thechickens down the embankment. I'm a poor boy, Mr. Fairbanks--dreadfullypoor. There's reasons why I can't work in the towns like other boys. Youcan give me work, though--you can just set me on my feet."
"How can I do that?" inquired Ralph, getting interested.
"By buying me those chickens. I've got the place for them, I've got thetime to attend to them, and I know just how to handle them. Why,"continued the speaker excitedly, "there's nearly two hundred in primetrim gathered in a little thicket over yonder, and there's double thatnumber among the wreckage, besides those that are hurt that I can nurseand mend up. If you will buy them for me, I'll solemnly promise toreturn you the money in a week and double the amount of interest intwo."
"You talk clear and straight and earnest, my lad," here broke in theclaim agent. "What's your name?"
"Glen Palmer."
"Do you live near here?"
"Yes, sir--in an old abandoned farmhouse, rent free, about a mile northof here."
"With your folks?"
"No, sir, I have no folks, only an old grandfather. He's past working,and, well, a--a little queer at times, and I have to keep close watch ofhim. That's what's the trouble."
The claim agent took out his note book.
"Look here," he spoke, "if Fairbanks will vouch for you, I'll tab offthe chickens to you at fifteen dollars, due in thirty days."
"O--oh!" gasped the lad, clasping his hands in an ecstacy of hope andhappiness. "I'll be sure to pay you-- Why, with what I know I can dowith those chickens, I could pay you ten times over inside of a month."
"Mr. Fry," said Ralph, studying the boy's face for a moment or two,"I'll go security for my friend here."
"Say--excuse me, but say, Mr. Fairbanks, I--I--"
The boy broke down, tears chocking his utterance. He could only claspand cling to Ralph's hand. The latter patted him on the shoulder withthe encouraging words:
"You go ahead with your chicken farm, Glen, and if it needs more capitalcome to me."
"If you only knew what you've done for me--for me and my oldgrandfather!" faltered Glen Palmer, the deepest gratitude and feelingmanifested in tone and manner.
Ralph felt sure that the lad had a history. He did not, however,embarrass him with any questioning. He liked the way that young Palmertalked and bustled about as soon as the word was given that hisproposition was accepted. With an eager face he announced that he had aplan for getting the chickens to his home, and darted off at breakneckspeed, waving his hand gratefully back at Ralph a dozen times.
Ralph and the claim agent reached the dummy to find Cohen hanging aroundit in great mental distress. Fry invited him to ride in the cab, andtormented him by talking about his bargain clear back to the roundhouse.Then he relieved Cohen's distress, which bordered on positivedistraction, by releasing him from his contract.
Mrs. Fairbanks greeted Ralph with her usual loving, kindly welcome whenhe reached home. The old family cottage was a veritable nest of comfort,and the young engineer enjoyed it to the utmost. There was always somespecial favorite dainty awaiting Ralph on his return from a trip, and hehad a fine appetizing meal.
"We had a visitor today, Ralph," said Mrs. Fairbanks, as they satchatting in the cozy sitting room a little later.
"Who was that, mother?"
Mrs. Fairbanks with a smile handed her son a card that had been lying onthe mantle. Ralph smiled, too, as he looked it over.
"H'm," he said. "Quite dignified, 'Mr. Dallas,' our old friend Zeph, eh?What's this mysterious monogram, cryptogram, or whatever it is, way downin the corner of the card?"
"It looks like two S's," suggested Mrs. Fairbanks.
"Oh, I can solve the enigma now," said Ralph with a broader smile thanever. "It is 'S. S.,' by which Zeph means and wants mystified others tohalf guess means 'Secret Service.' There's one thing about Zeph, withall his wild imaginings and ambition along the railroad line, he sticksto his idea of breaking in somewhere as an active young sleuth."
"We think a lot of Zeph, Ralph, and we mustn't forget that he did somebright things in helping that poor little orphan, Ernest Gregg, tohealth and happiness."
"Yes, Zeph deserves great credit for his patience and cleverness in thataffair," admitted Ralph warmly, "only the line he is so fascinated withdoesn't strike me as a regular business."
"How about Mr. Adair, Ralph?" insinuated his mother.
"That's so, Bob Adair is the finest railroad detective in the world. IfZeph could line up under his guidance, he might make something practicalof himself."
"I think he has really done just that."
"I am delighted to hear it," said Ralph, and watching the glowing embersin the grate in a dreamy fashion he mused pleasantly over his experiencewith the redoubtable Zeph, while his mother was busy tidying up thedining room.
It was a good deal of satisfaction for Ralph to recall Zeph Dallas tomind. Zeph, a raw country youth, had come to Stanley Junction in a wholepeck of trouble. Ralph had always a helping hand for the unlucky orunfortunate. He became a good friend to Zeph and got him a place in theroundhouse. Zeph made a miserable failure of the job. The height of hisambition was to be a detective--like fellows he had read about.
Zeph finally landed, as he expressed it, with both feet. The son of aprominent railroad official became interested in hunting up therelatives of a forlorn little fellow named Gregg. He had plenty ofmoney, and he hired Zeph to assist him. The latter showed that he hadsomething in him, for his wit and energy not only located the wealthyrelative of the orphan outcast, but upset the plots of a wicked schemerwho was planning to rob the friendless lad of his rights.
"What did Zeph say about Mr. Adair, mother?" inquired Ralph, as Mrs.Fairbanks again entered the sitting room.
"Nothing clear," she explained. "You know how Zeph delights in cuddlingup his ideas to himself and looking and acting mysterious. He was veryimportant as he hinted that Mr. Adair depended on him to 'save the dayin a big case,' and he said a great deal about a 'rival railroad.'"
"Oh, did he, indeed?" murmured Ralph thoughtfully.
"Zeph told me to advise you, very secretly he put it, to look out fortrouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"Particularly, he said, in the train dispatcher's department."
"Hm!" commented the young engineer simply, but his brow became furrowedwith thought, and he reflected by spells quite seriously over thesubject during the evening.
Fogg had forgotten all about his fears of the day previous when hereported at the roundhouse the next morning. He grinned at his youngcomrade with a particularly satisfied smirk on his face, and made theremark:
"You see before you, y
oung man, a person full of the best chicken stewever cooked in Stanley Junction. I say, Fairbanks, if you'd kind of slowup going past Bluff Point we might grab off enough more of thosechickens to do for Sunday dinner."
"We? Don't include me in your disreputable pilferings, Mr. Fogg,"declared Ralph, "you may get a bill for the two fowls you so boastinglyallude to."
"Hey."
"Yes, indeed. In fact," continued Ralph with mock seriousness, "I don'tknow but what I may have a certain interest in enforcing itscollection."
The young engineer recited the episode of the salvage sale of thechickens to Glen Palmer.
"Quite a windfall, that," commented Fogg. "Another fellow to thank hislucky stars that he ran up against Ralph Fairbanks. Sort of interestedin this proposition myself. I can hardly imagine a finer prospect thanrunning a chicken farm. Some day--"
The rhapsody of Fireman Fogg was cut short by the arrival of theschedule minute for getting up steam on the Overland racer. The bustleand energy of starting out on their regular trip made engineer andhelper forget everything except the duties of the occasion. As theycleared the limits, however, and approached Bluff Point, Ralph watchedout with natural curiosity, and Fogg remarked:
"Hope a few more chickens drop into the cab this morning."
Ralph slowed up slightly, they struck the bluff curve, and as theyneared the scene of the freight wreck of the previous day he had a goodview of the embankment where the two abandoned cars lay.
"Some one there," commented Fogg, his keen glance fixed on the spot.
"Yes, our young friend Glen Palmer and an old man. That must be thegrandfather he talked about. They are very industriously at work."
The two persons whom Ralph designated were in the midst of the wreckage.The old man was prying apart the netted compartment of the car and intothis the boy was reaching. Near at hand was an old hand cart. It carrieda great coop made of laths, and was half filled with fowls.
As the train circled the spot the boy below suspended his work andlooked up. He seemed to recognize Ralph--or at least he knew hislocomotive.
Ralph nodded and smiled and sounded three quick low toots from thewhistle. This attracted the attention of the old man, who, standingupright, stared up at the train, posed like some heroic figure in plainview.
"I say!" ejaculated Fogg with a great start.
The young engineer was similarly moved. In a flash he now traced thesource of the puzzling suggestiveness of something familiar in the faceof Glen Palmer the day before.
"Did you see him?" demanded Fogg.
"Yes," nodded Ralph.
"The old man--he's the one we saw with those two suspiciousjailbird-looking fellows down the line yesterday."
Ralph, the Train Dispatcher; Or, The Mystery of the Pay Car Page 3
