Ralph of the Roundhouse Part 26

"I said I had influence. I have. You can't work for the Great Northern in Stanley Junction, if I say not."

Ralph stared at the speaker incredulously. He could not comprehend how Farrington could show the bad policy to put himself on record with such a remark, be his intentions what they might.

"In fact, sir," said Ralph, "you mean to intimate that you will get me discharged?"

"I mean just that," unblushingly admitted Farrington. "I will allow no pauper brood to stand in the way of my--of my----"

Ralph felt the blood surge hotly to his temples. With a strong effort he controlled himself.

"Mr. Farrington," he said quietly, though his voice trembled a trifle, "you have said quite enough. I want to tell you that you are a wicked, hypocritical old man. You have no interest in my welfare--you are after our little property, because you have learned that the railroad may soon pay a big price for it. You want us out of Stanley Junction, because you are afraid we may find out something about your dealings with my dead father. To carry your point, you threaten me--me, a poor boy, just starting in to win his way by hard work--you threaten to plot against and ruin me. Very well, Mr. Farrington, go ahead. I have too much reliance in the teachings of a good mother to believe that you will succeed."

"What! what!" shouted the magnate, almost choking with rage and mortification at this unvarnished arraignment, "you dare to tell me this? In my own house!"

"You invited me here," suggested Ralph.

"Get out--get out!" cried Farrington, running to the door for his cane.

"You will fail," spoke Ralph, going down the steps. "You won't gag me as you have others. As you did----"

Like an inspiration a suggestion came to Ralph Fairbanks' mind at that moment.

It seemed as if he had right before his eyes once more the mysterious, blurred letter that Van had brought. He recalled one of its last words.

He had mistaken it for "Farewell." Now the light flashed in upon his soul. "Farwell" was the name Big Denny had spoken--"Farwell Gibson."

"As you did Farwell Gibson," concluded Ralph, at a venture.

"Who? Come back! Stay, Fairbanks, one word!"

The old man's face had grown white. His eyes seemed suddenly haunted with dread.

"That name!" he gasped, clutching at a chair for support. "What do you know of Farwell Gibson?"

"Only," answered Ralph, "that he wrote to my father last week."

"He--wrote--" choked out Farrington, "last week--to your father--Farwell Gibson!"

The information was the capping climax. The old man uttered a groan, fell over, carrying the chair he grasped with him, and lay on the porch floor in a fit.

CHAPTER XIX--IKE SLUMP'S FRIENDS

When Ralph reached home after his exciting half-hour with Gasper Farrington, he was considerably wrought up.

He had called for a.s.sistance at the Farrington home as soon as its owner went down in a fit, a servant had hurried to the porch, between them they got Farrington into the house and on a couch, a physician was telephoned for, and as soon as he saw returning signs of consciousness on the part of his host and discerned that his condition was not really serious, Ralph left the place.

Van had gone to bed, and Ralph found his mother alone. They sat in the little parlor, conversing. Mrs. Fairbanks was very much perturbed at Ralph's recital of his sensational encounter with Gasper Farrington.

"I fear he is an evil man, Ralph," she said, with anxiety. "He has power, and he will not hesitate to misuse it."

"He seems to be determined to drive us out of Stanley Junction," said Ralph. "And I fear he may succeed."

"Not while I have you to care for and your interests to protect!"

declared Ralph, with vim. "That old man has aroused the fighting blood in me, mother, and I'll see this thing through, and stay right on the spot, if I have to peddle papers for a living. But don't you worry about his getting me discharged. I have made some friends in the railroad business, and I believe they will stick by me."

Mrs. Fairbanks sighed in a worried way.

"I wish you had not run counter to him to-night," she said.

"I am glad," responded Ralph. "Don't you see he has shown his hand?

Why, mother, can anything be plainer than that he realizes our presence here to be a constant menace to some of his interests? And as to that random shot about Farwell Gibson--it told. He is afraid of us and this Gibson. Well, it has all cleared the way to definite action."

"What do you mean, Ralph?"

"I mean that the letter Van brought us must have been very important. I believe this man, Gibson, is alive, but in hiding. He shows it by the roundabout, laborious way he took to send the letter, and his ignorance of father's death. I believe that letter hinted at his knowledge of wrongs Farrington has done us. If we can find this person, I feel positive he can impart information of vital value to our interests."

Mrs. Fairbanks acquiesced in her son's theories, but was timorous about further antagonizing their enemy. It was mostly for Ralph and his prospects that she cared.

"I have been thinking the whole matter over, mother," proceeded Ralph, "and I believe I see my course plain before me. As soon as I can, I am going to ask the foreman to give me a couple of days' leave of absence.

Then I will get Mr. Griscom to take Van and me on his run, and return.

Van came in on his morning run, so I conjecture he must have got on the train somewhere between Stanley Junction and the terminal. Is it not possible, going back over the course, that he may show recognition of some spot with which he is familiar?"

"Yes, Ralph, that looks reasonable."

"Once we know where he came from, and find his friends, we can trace up this Mr. Gibson. Don't you see, mother?"

Mrs. Fairbanks did see, and commended Ralph's clear, ready wit in formulating the plan suggested. She did not show much enthusiasm, however. She was more than content with the present--a comfortable home, a manly, ambitious boy at her side, full of devotion to her, and making his way steadily to the front.

Ralph was called into the foreman's office almost as soon as he reached the roundhouse next morning.

Forgan looked serious and acted anxious.

"Sit down, Fairbanks," he directed, closing the door after his visitor.

"We're in trouble here, and I guess you will have to lift us out of it."

"Can I, Mr. Forgan?" inquired Ralph.

"You can help, that's sure. Those bra.s.s fittings you found were stolen from the railroad company."

"I thought that. They had the Great Northern stamp on them."

"That isn't the worst of it. Some one has been systematically rifling the supply bins. I suppose you know that some of these pinions and valves are very nearly worth their weight in silver?"

"I know they must cost considerable, those of a special pattern,"

a.s.sented Ralph.

"They do. That little heap you brought in the bag represents something over fifty dollars to the company."