CHAPTER XIII
THE SHORT LINE RAILWAY
Ralph attracted a good deal of attention when he arrived at Dover, and fully realized the honor of being treated as a companion by the president of the great railroad of which he was an employe. Mr. Grant was pleasant and friendly. He learned Ralph's story, and discussed railroad experience in a way that was enlightening and encouraging to the young fireman.
"About these kidnappers," he said, "I will never give them a dollar, but I will spend all I have to rescue my nephew. It is needless to say that you shall be richly rewarded if you assist me successfully."
"I will do my best, sir," pledged Ralph.
At Dover they were met by Adair. They went into the depot and sat down on a bench in a remote corner.
"I have not discovered the kidnappers nor the faintest clew to them, Mr. Grant," said Adair.
The railroad president sighed deeply. He showed in his face and manner the care and anxiety he was suffering.
"Can you suggest anything, Fairbanks?" continued Adair. "You know the district fairly well. What is your idea about these men?"
Ralph astonished his companions by suddenly arising to his feet and hurrying towards a boy who had just entered the depot and had taken up a pen and a telegraph pad on the counter outside the ticket office.
It was Van Sherwin, the old-time friend of Ralph, and pleasure at recognizing him had caused the young fireman to act on an impulse.
"Why, Van!" he cried, "I am glad to see you."
"Eh?" spoke the other. "Ralph! well, the gladness is mutual," and the pair shook hands cordially.
"What brought you here?" asked Ralph.
"Came down from headquarters in the timber on important business," replied Van. "Just sending a telegram."
"Why!" almost shouted Ralph, glancing at the blank upon which his friend had just written a name, "to Mr. Grant, to the president of the Great Northern!"
"Yes," answered Van. "Does that startle you?"
"It does. What are you wiring him for?"
"About his nephew, Dudley Trevor."
Ralph was fairly taken off his feet, as the saying goes. He grasped Van's arm excitedly.
"See here, Van Sherwin," he cried. "What do you know of Mr. Trevor?"
"Only that he is at our headquarters with a broken arm, and he sent me here to wire his uncle the fact."
Ralph was delighted. He could scarcely credit the glad news. He led Van up to the railroad president and the road detective with the words:
"Gentlemen, I am very happy to tell you that Mr. Trevor is in safe hands, and my friend here will explain. Van Sherwin, this is Mr. Grant, the president of the Great Northern."
Van nodded in his crisp, off-hand way to Adair, whom he knew, and took off his cap to his dignified companion.
His story was to his auditors most remarkable and exciting, but to Van only the narration of a perfectly natural occurrence. Early that morning there had come into "headquarters," as Van termed it, a young man in an almost exhausted condition. His attire was all torn with brambles and bushes and one arm was broken.
"He told us his name, and said that he had escaped from kidnappers. Mr. Gibson attended to his arm, and sent me to Dover here to telegraph to you, sir," explained Van to the railroad president.
Mr. Grant was so glad and excited he could not sit still.
"Take me to him at once!" he cried. "My dear lad, you have brought happy news to me."
"I don't know about going to see him," said Van. "It is over twenty miles away in the woods."
"Allow me to explain, Mr. Grant," said Adair. "Between here and Wilmer is a wild, wooded stretch of land known as The Barrens."
"I know of it," nodded Mr. Grant. "The Great Northern once surveyed two miles into the section, but abandoned the route as impracticable. There are only about twenty houses in the district, and the difficulties of clearing and grading were discouraging."
"Well," said Adair, "it appears that a man named Farwell Gibson secured a charter to build a short line through The Barrens from Wilmer across the desolate tract to connect with the Midland Central."
"I heard of that, too," nodded the railroad president."
"This Gibson is an odd genius. He has been working for two years on his scheme, terming the road the Dover & Springfield Short Line. Just half way across The Barrens he has a house, which he calls 'headquarters.' He is an erratic hermit, and adopted this boy here, Van Sherwin, who has been helping him. Every day, the law requires, he must do some grading work on the prospective railroad line. This he has done, and you would be surprised to know the progress they have made."
"Especially lately," said Van, with sparkling eyes. "Even you, Ralph, would be astonished. Mrs. Gibson got some money recently—five thousand dollars from old Gasper Farrington— and we have hired a lot of men. Oh, that railroad is going through, and don't you forget it."
"We realized our mistake after this Gibson got hold of the franchise," said Mr. Grant. "Once the road is built, it practically dominates passenger and freight business north and south."
"That is right," said Van, "for it becomes a bee-line, saving twenty to thirty miles distance, besides opening up a new district. Well, sir, your nephew is now at our headquarters. To reach the place you will have to get a very heavy wagon and go pretty slow and sure, for there are no roads."
"I must go at all hazards," cried the railroad president insistently, "and you, my friends, must accompany me," he added to Adair and Ralph. "Why, those villains from whom my nephew escaped may undertake to recapture him."
A little later the party, in charge of a sturdy fellow driving a strong team of horses attached to a heavy wagon, started out under the direction of Van Sherwin.
The district was a wild jungle, interspersed with sweeps of hill and dales, and numerous creeks. Finally they reached a hill surmounted by a dense grove of trees. A road led up here to a rambling log house.
Here and on the other side of the hill a ten-foot avenue was visible, neat and clean. The brush had been cleared away, the ground leveled, here and there some rudely cut ties set in place, and for an extended stretch there was a presentable graded roadbed.
As they drove up to the cabin the railroad president almost forgot his nephew from interest in his surroundings. Across the front of the building was a sign reading: "Headquarters of the Dover & Springfield Short Line Railroad." To the south there was a singular sight presented. Some twenty men and boys were working on a roadbed, which had been cut for over two miles. A telegraph wire ran from the building over the tops of trees, and Ralph was fairly astonished at the progress made since he had first visited Farwell Gibson in this place.
"Come in," said Van, as Mr. Grant alighted from the wagon.
"Well, this is decidedly a railroady place," observed the president of the Great Northern with a faint smile.
One half of the rambling place was a depot and railway offices combined. There were benches for passengers. In one corner was a partitioned off space, labeled: "President's Office." On the wall hung a bunch of blank baggage checks, and there was a chart of a zigzag railway line, indicating bridges, water tanks and switch towers.
"Mr. Gibson," called out Van to a man seated at a desk, "this is Mr. Grant, the president of the Great Northern."
"Eh? what! My dear sir, I am glad to see you," said the eccentric hermit. "You came about your nephew, I presume? Take the gentleman to his room, Van," directed Farwell. "I am something of a doctor and he is resting quite comfortably."
Mr. Gibson greeted Ralph very cordially. When Van returned, he insisted on the young fireman inspecting the work on the railroad.
"Does that look like business?" he inquired, as they proceeded down the roadbed. "We have ten men and eight boys working for us."
"Eight boys—where did they come from?" inquired Ralph.
"An orphan asylum burned down and we engaged to care for them," replied Van.
"But what are they doing in those trees?"
"Stringing a telegraph wire. We expect within a month to have the telegraph through to Springfield, and later to Dover."
"Why, Van," said Ralph, "it seems incredible, the progress you have made."
"That five thousand dollars we made old Farrington pay Mrs. Gibson was a great help," replied Van. "We have quite a construction crew here now. I help Mrs. Gibson do the cooking, and we get on famously."
Mr. Grant was with his nephew for over an hour. Then Ralph was sent for, and Trevor welcomed him with a glad smile. The young man described how he had been taken to a lonely building in the woods, how he had escaped from his enemies, breaking his arm in a runaway flight, and telling Ralph that he intended to remain where he was for a month, to which his uncle had agreed.
"Confidentially, Fairbanks," he said, "I have taken a great interest in this Short Cut Railroad scheme, and as soon as I am well I am coming to see you at Stanley Junction."
"Regarding this railroad?" inquired Ralph.
"Exactly," responded Trevor. "I see a great future in it. I shall not go to Europe. There is a practical business chance here, and I intend to help Mr. Gibson get the enterprise through."
"It will take a lot of money," suggested Ralph.
"Yes," assented Trevor, "and I know how to raise it. In fact, I have almost agreed to market one hundred thousand dollars' worth of bonds of the Dover & Springfield Short Line Railroad, and I want you to help me do it."