Ralph on the Engine: or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail

Ralph obtained leave of absence for a week. He decided that it was worth while to try and find Gasper Farrington. He went to the city, got certain papers belonging to the magnate from Mr. Grant, and went to Wilmer.

He was soon at the junction of the Springfield & Dover Short Cut Railroad and the Great Northern. That terminus was completed. A neat depot had been erected, and on the tracks of the new railroad there stood a handsome locomotive.

“Oh, Ralph!” cried Zeph Dallas, rushing forward to greet his friend, as the young fireman appeared. “Great news!”

CHAPTER XXX

THE LOST DIAMONDS

“Great news, eh?” said Ralph.

“You will say so when you hear what I have got to tell you,” declared Zeph Dallas. “Say, I am going straight to headquarters. Come with me. The news will keep till we get there.”

“All right,” assented Ralph. “There is enough going on around here to keep a fellow interested.”

“The new railroad?” spoke Zeph brightly. “I should say so. Isn’t it just famous? I tell you, some hustling work has been done here in the past few weeks.”

Ralph was amazed and delighted at the progress made by the Short Line Railway. As said, a new locomotive was on the rails at the terminus, and a little depot had been built. Workmen were busy as far down the line as he could see. In fact, everything indicated that the road would soon be in full operation.

“The tracks are laid both ways from headquarters, except for a little distance on the Springfield side,” said Zeph. “We expect passenger and freight cars for the road to-day, and on Monday we open the line.”

“And in what capacity will you appear on that grand occasion, Zeph?” inquired the young fireman pleasantly.

“Conductor!” exploded the farmer boy, drawing himself up proudly. “See here;” he drew back his coat and revealed the biggest and most elaborate “Conductor” badge manufactured. “We expect that Earl Danvers will become our brakeman.”

“Who?” cried Ralph with a start.

“Earl Danvers.”

“Is he here?”

“He is at headquarters,” said Zeph. “Don’t bother asking me about him now. You will soon see him, and he will tell you his own story. Then, too, Mr. Gibson wishes to see you particularly. Here’s our hand-car, jump aboard. We’ll spin along at a fine rate, I tell you, for the roadbed is splendid.”

Ralph found it so. It was a most interesting journey to headquarters. There was only one track, and on this the men had spent their energies to great advantage, and commendable results followed.

He was warmly welcomed by his friends, particularly so by Earl Danvers. Just as soon as mutual greetings were over Ralph took Earl to a pile of ties a little distance away.

“Now then, young man,” he said, “seeing we are alone, suppose you give an account of yourself.”

Earl Danvers was thin and pale. He looked as if he had gone through some recent severe hardships, but he smiled serenely as he said:

“It’s easy to tell my story, now I am out of my troubles, but I tell you, Ralph, I have had a hard time of it.”

“With Slump and Bemis?”

“Yes. The afternoon I left Stanley Junction, they were the fellows who forced me to go away with them. They broke into your house, and I found them ransacking it. They pitched on to me, and tied me up. Then they recognized me.”

“What, had you known them before?” exclaimed Ralph, in some surprise.

“I found out that I had. You remember the first day that you saw me?”

“Yes,” nodded Ralph.

“Well, I had run away from my uncles that morning. I had made up a package hurriedly, containing shoes, coat and cap, and got away through a window in the attic. I went about five miles, when I ran right into two fellows in the woods. They were Slump and Bemis. They got mad at my stumbling over them, took away my parcel and began to belabor me. I had to run to keep from being terribly beaten. Then I sneaked around, hoping to recover my parcel. They had gone in swimming. My parcel had disappeared. I had to have a coat. I grabbed one and ran away with it. They yelled after me, but I outdistanced them. Then later I ran across my uncles looking for me. The rest you know.”

“And what about the coat?”

“Well,” related Earl, “when those fellows broke into your house, they inquired about that coat. I at once saw that they had a great interest in it. I told them I didn’t know where it was. They insisted that I did. They ransacked the house from top to bottom. They took me away from town to a miserable hut where they were staying. Until yesterday I was a prisoner there, tied up, half-starved, and every day Slump would come and demand to know if I was going to tell him what had become of that coat. From the first I knew that coat was what they were after when they burglarized your house, and wrote what words I could on the wall of your sitting room.”

“Yes,” said Ralph, “we found your message there. Did you learn what their especial interest was in the coat?”

“Yes, I overheard some of their conversation a few days ago,” replied Earl. “That coat contained some diamonds they found in an old box car.”

“What!” cried Ralph. “Is it possible?”

“It seems so. I escaped yesterday. You had told me about this place, and so I came here. Zeph Dallas was my friend at once, when I told him my story. Here he is now.”

Zeph approached with a beaming face.

“Fairbanks,” he said, “I suppose Danvers has told you how he came here, and his troubles with Slump and Bemis.”

“Yes,” nodded Ralph.

“Well, I went to Dover yesterday and saw the old rag man. He ransacked his stock and we found the coat.”

“You did?” spoke Ralph, expectantly.

“Yes, and in an inside pocket were the diamonds. Here they are.”

Zeph handed Ralph a moldy chamois skin bag. With interest the young fireman inspected the contents.

“This is a rich find, Zeph,” he said. “You must report to the car finder at once.”

“I am going to the city to-day to see him,” explained the former farmer boy.

Zeph left headquarters about noon. The next morning he reappeared. He was fairly gorgeous attired in the uniform of a conductor.

“One thousand dollars I get as a special reward for the recovery of the diamonds,” he said, “and more when the car finder has seen their original owner. I am to divide with you, Fairbanks.”

“Not at all,” dissented Ralph.

“Oh, yes, I shall,” insisted Zeph. “And, by the way, I have some news of importance for you.”

“Indeed?” said Ralph.

“Yes. You know where Trafton is?”

“On the Midland Central.”

“Exactly. Well, this morning on the platform there, I saw a man in whom you are considerably interested.”

“Who was that?” inquired the young fireman.

“Bartlett, the fellow who was a partner of Gasper Farrington in that wire-tapping scheme.”

CHAPTER XXXI

JUSTICE AT LAST – CONCLUSION

Ralph lost no time in making up his mind to at once go to Trafton and endeavor to run down Bartlett. He was the friend and confidant of Gasper Farrington, and the latter the young fireman was now determined to find.

He had his troubles for his pains. He got a trace of Bartlett at Trafton, but lost it again. His final clew was that Bartlett had last been seen driving away from town in a covered wagon.

Ralph devoted the morning to these discoveries, then he made for the home of Amos Greenleaf. He cut across the timber for ten miles, and late in the afternoon reached the miserable hovel where the crippled railroader lived.

It was when he was within a few rods of the place that a voice hailed him.

“This way, Mr. Fairbanks, I have something to tell you.”

Ralph went to a copse near at hand where the speaker stood, as if in hiding. It was the escaped convict. He was deeply excited.

“I wanted to prepare you for a surprise before you went into the house,” said the convict.

“Why, what do you mean?” asked Ralph.

“I mean Farrington!” cried the convict. “He is there.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Ralph.

“No, it is true.”

“How did he happen to come here?”

“A man driving a covered wagon brought him. Farrington was sick, dying. The other man carried him into the house and said he would hurry for a doctor.”

“When was this?” asked Ralph.

“Two hours ago. I have not shown myself to Farrington yet. The man is certainly in a dying condition.”

“I had better investigate affairs,” said Ralph, and he proceeded to the house.

Gasper Farrington lay on a wretched cot in a little bedroom. Ralph was amazed at the change in the magnate since he had last seen him. Farrington was thin, pale and weak. He was gasping painfully for breath, and groaned wretchedly as he recognized his visitor.

“Why, Mr. Farrington,” said Ralph, “you are a very sick man.”

“I am dying, Ralph Fairbanks,” moaned the stricken Farrington. “You have your revenge.”

“I wish for no revenge – I truly am sorry to see you in this condition.”

“Well, here I am,” groaned Farrington – “a miserable wreck, dying in a wretched hovel, the end of all my plotting, and worst of all, robbed of everything I own.”

“By whom?” asked Ralph.

“By Bartlett, who has abandoned me. I know it, and only this morning he got from me the deeds conveying all my property to him. Once recorded, I am a beggar, and can make no reparation to those whom I have defrauded.”

“Is that true?” asked Ralph.

“Yes. He pretended he would drive to Wilmer, record the deeds at Stanley Junction, return and take me safely out of the country. Instead, he has isolated me in this desolate place. Oh, to outwit him, Fairbanks!” continued the magnate eagerly. “I can yet defeat him if you can assist me.”

“How?”

“Under the bed is my box of private papers. Unknown to Bartlett, last week, suspecting his scheme to rob me, believing I was dying, I executed deeds that distributed my property among those whom I had wronged. One deed is for your mother to adjust that twenty thousand dollar claim. Another is for a poor fellow I sent to jail – an innocent man. Another places my property in trust with your lawyer. Here they are,” and Farrington took some documents from the box that Ralph had handed him. “Now then, act quickly.”

Ralph looked over the papers. They were what the magnate described. He went outside and saw the convict, showing him the deed containing the name of “John Vance.”

“Is that your name?” asked Ralph.

“It is,” assented the convict.

“Then Farrington has done you tardy justice,” and he explained the situation.

In a few minutes the young fireman was bounding away towards Wilmer.

Ralph caught a train just as it was moving away from the depot. He did not venture inside the cars, for he saw that Bartlett was aboard, but at the next station proceeded to the locomotive.

When the train reached the limits at Stanley Junction, Ralph left it and boarded an engine on another track bound for the depot.

He reached it some minutes in advance of the other locomotive. A hurried run for the office of the recorder, a swift delivery of the deeds, and then Ralph hastened after the town marshal.

They came upon Bartlett leaving the office of the recorder with a glum and puzzled face. In his hand in a listless way he held some deeds which he had evidently been told were worthless.

The man was disguised, but Ralph knew him at once. The marshal stepped forward and seized his arm.

“Mr. Bartlett,” he said sternly, “you are under arrest.”

“Oh, you want me? What – er – for?” stammered the plotter.

“Conspiracy in the recent railroad strike,” explained the official. “Pretty serious, too – not to mention that so-called accident you had on one of the cars, for which you wanted damages.”

With a scowl on his face Bartlett turned and confronted Ralph.

“Ah, so it’s you?” he growled.

“Yes,” returned the young fireman, coldly.

“This is some of your work!”

“If so, it is at the request of the man you robbed, Bartlett.”

“Eh?”

“I mean Gasper Farrington,” answered Ralph, and this news caused the prisoner to turn pale and stagger back. He realized that he had come to the end of his plotting and must now suffer the consequences of his misdeeds. He was marched off to jail, and it may be as well to state, was, later on, sent to prison for a term of years.

Gasper Farrington did not linger long. Before he died, however, he had a talk with Ralph and with the convict, and signed several papers of importance. He acknowledged all his wrong doings, and did all in his power to straighten matters out. His relatives came to his aid, and his last hours on earth were made as comfortable as circumstances permitted.

Two days after Farrington’s funeral came a surprise for Ralph. He received word that Ike Slump and Mort Bemis had been caught in a tavern near Dover. Both of the roughs were in rags and penniless, having lost what money they had had. Both were turned over to the police, and in due course of time each followed Bartlett to prison.

“It serves them right,” said Griscom, to Ralph. “My! my! What a difference in boys! Do you remember when you and Slump were both wipers at the roundhouse?”

“I do indeed!” answered Ralph feelingly. “I am sorry for Ike. But he has no one to blame but himself.”

“A holiday for us day after to-morrow, lad,” went on the veteran engineer of the Limited Mail, with a twinkle in his eye. “Guess you know why.”

“Opening of the other line?” queried the young fireman.

“Exactly. Special invitation for both of us,” went on Griscom, with a chuckle.

“Well, I hope everything pans out right,” said Ralph. “Our friends have worked hard enough, goodness knows.”

The day for the opening of the new railroad came, and Ralph and the old engineer took the early morning train for Wilmer. Not a few friends accompanied them.

“It’s a great day for Van and for Mr. Gibson,” said Ralph. “And a great day for Zeph and Earl too,” he added, with a smile. Earl’s uncles had been hailed into court, and a new guardian had been appointed for the boy.

A little after noon that day the formal opening of the Springfield & Dover Railroad was celebrated.

Two beautiful passenger coaches were filled with friends of the road and persons living near Wilmer. The locomotive and cars were gaily decorated with bunting. Limpy Joe was bustling around his restaurant stand at the depot, happy and chipper. Zeph Dallas was the proud conductor, and Earl Danvers the brakeman of the train. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Fairbanks, Mr. Trevor and some of their friends formed a party by themselves. It was a regular gala occasion. The first trip was a grand success. People along the line greeted the train with glad cheers, and, returning to headquarters, a sumptuous repast was spread for the guests of the new road.

“Well, we are a happy family party,” said Farwell Gibson with enthusiasm, as, that evening, his employes sat around the supper table at headquarters.

“Yes,” nodded Trevor. “To-morrow actual work begins. We have splendid prospects, loyal employes, and the Springfield & Dover Short Line is a grand success.”

“I cannot too deeply announce my feelings towards you, Fairbanks,” said Mr. Gibson. “It is to your friendship and co-operation that I owe, in a measure, all my good fortune in completing the railroad.”

“A grand lad,” applauded old John Griscom heartily. “His pluck and perseverance have helped us all out of difficulties many a time.”

“Three cheers for the boy who helped to build a railroad!” cried Zeph Dallas.

They were given with enthusiasm, and Ralph had to respond with a speech.

“I believe this is the happiest moment of my life,” he declared. “I have been through some strenuous times, but all has ended well.”

And then what a cheer went up!

Ralph imagined that now, since his enemies had been disposed of, quiet times were ahead. But this was not to be. Adventures in plenty still awaited him, and what some of them were will be related in another story, to be called “Ralph on the Overland Express; or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer.”

“It was certainly a great day, mother,” said the young fireman, when he got home from the celebration.

“Yes, Ralph,” answered Mrs. Fairbanks. “And to think that you helped to make that day possible. Oh, I am proud of you!” And she gave him a fond caress.

“And the best of it is, that we have all those thousands of dollars,” continued the young fireman. “We are not exactly rich, but we are comfortably situated, eh?”

“Yes, indeed, Ralph! But listen to me. Do you want to leave the railroad? You might go into business, or go to college, or–”

“No, no, mother! I was born to follow a railroad life – I feel it. Who knows, some day I may be the President of some road.”

“That is true. Well, have your wish, Ralph. They tell me now you are the best fireman in these parts. Soon you’ll have your engine then–”

“I’ll be very happy!” finished Ralph.

And his eyes brightened as he thought of splendid opportunities the future promised.

THE END