CHAPTER XI
SPOILING FOR A FIGHT
As Ralph spoke the special was a blur as it passed the tower, a flying spot as it flashed to the in rails, a speck as it turned the curve.
Ralph sat motionless till he caught its whistle past the limits tower. Then he realized that his crucial test was past and done.
The telephone bell rang noisily. The dial indicator began to move. The delayed freights set up a piping call for service. For five minutes Ralph jumped actively from lever to lever. He was glad of the task—it diverted his mind from the harrowing ordeal that had so nearly unmanned him.
As there was a lull in the service, Ralph thought of the tiger below. He started to send a message for relief over the 'phone. Just then he noticed a familiar form smoking a pipe on a baggage truck near by.
"Hey, Stiggs!" he called from the open window.
The person addressed was a simple-faced, ing man of about fifty. He wore a railroad jumper and overalls, but they were spotless, as if he had pretty light work. He wore, too, a regular fireman's peaked cap—in fact looked like a seasoned railroad hand, but moved as placidly towards the tower at Ralph's hail as though he was inspector-general and main owner of the railroad.
Stiggs was a character about the yards. He was one of the first switchmen employed by the Great Northern. About two years previously, however, he had got terribly battered up in trying to rescue an express driver and his horses who had got wedged in on an X-switch. Stiggs succeeded, but paid the penalty.
When he came out of the hospital he was sound of limb, but his mind was affected. He was not dangerous or troublesome, but he still imagined that he was in active service for the railroad company.
The Great Northern pensioned him, and he and his wife got along quite comfortably on the sixteen dollars a month allowed them, as they owned their little home. Stiggs, however, haunted the yards. He put on a fresh, clean working suit twice a week, and went the rounds of depot, flag-shanties, switch tower, and roundhouse twice a day regularly.
He was so pleasant and inoffensive that all hands gave him a welcome. He ran errands for men on duty, and at times unofficially spelled the crossings flagmen while they went to their meals.
His great need was tobacco. His wife would buy him none, saying they could not afford it. When the railroad men rewarded his little services with a pipeful or a package of his favorite brand, Stiggs was a very happy man.
"Want me?" he called up to Ralph as he neared the tower.
"Yes," answered Ralph. "Will you do an errand for me?"
"Sure pop. That's what the company hires me for, isn't it?" demanded Stiggs cheerfully.
"You know where the circus train is unloading?"
"Over near the street—of course. I supervised getting their band chariot down the skids. New men here—never handled chariots before. They'd have smashed her if I hadn't been on deck to direct them."
"Experience counts, Mr. Stiggs," remarked Ralph indulgently.
"You bet it does—that's what the company hires me for."
"Well, you go down and see if any of the circus people are still around.
"They were ten minutes ago."
"Find the manager. You know one of their wild animals is loose?"
"I heard so."
"Then you bargain for a reward. Tell them you can produce their escaped tiger if they pay you for your trouble."
Stiggs stared in perplexed simplicity at Ralph. "But I can't," he demurred, "and I never tell a lie, you know."
"Yes, you can," asserted Ralph—"at least I can. I know where the animal is. You hurry the circus manager here, and I will show up the tiger."
Simple-minded Stiggs craned his neck as if expecting to see the animal in question in Ralph's company. Then his face grew mildly reproachful.
"I didn't think you would try to hoax me, Fairbanks!" he said sorrowfully.
"I wouldn't for the world, Mr. Stiggs," said Ralph. "I have too much respect for you. Do as I say now—only hurry. Make a good bargain, for a little money won't do Mrs. Stiggs any harm. Hustle, though—for tigers are slippery customers, you know."
Stiggs nodded dubiously, and set off on his errand. Ralph kept an eye on the side of the tower where the lower entrance was, ready to warn anyone approaching.
He could hear the animal occupant of the room below moving about. Then it quieted down, after a jangle of metal pieces. Ralph figured out that it had made its lair in the darkest corner of the apartment where there was a heap of old junk.
He looked down the ladder, but did not venture below.
It was about ten minutes after Stiggs had departed on his errand, that Ralph had occasion to warn a newcomer.
He had watched this person cross the tracks from Railroad Street in a rather lurching, irresponsible way.
As he came nearer, Ralph recognized the belligerent friend of his predecessor at the switch tower, Young Slavin.
Ralph had not seen nor heard from Slavin, Bemis, or Ike Slump since his adventure with the trio at "The Signal" restaurant on lower Railroad Street.
As Slavin drew nearer, Ralph judged, from the way that he glanced up at the tower, that this was his intended goal, and, from the way he clenched his fists and hunched up his shoulders, that he had got himself primed for some mischief.
Slavin halted as he got within ten feet of the switch tower. In a stupid, solemn sort of way he scanned its side, trying to determine where its entrance was located. Ralph stuck his head out of the window.
"Hello, there!" he hailed.
"Hello, yerself!" retorted Slavin, finding some difficulty in steadying himself as he crooked his neck to make out his challenger. "Who's that? Fill my heart with joy by just telling me it's the fellow I'm looking for—young Fairbanks!"
"That is who it is," responded Ralph promptly. "Want me?"
"Do I!" chuckled Slavin, cutting a pigeon-wing and giving a free exhibition of pugilist fist play. "Oh, don't I! Business, strictly business—young man. Will you come down, or shall I come up?"
"I don't want to see you bad enough to come down," observed Ralph. "As to coming up, I warn you not to attempt it, just at present."
"Afraid, eh?" jeered Slavin.
"Was I the other night?" asked Ralph pointedly.
"That was a foul," cried Slavin wrathfully. "I've come for satisfaction now, and I'm going to have it."
"Not in working hours, and not here," declared Ralph definitely. "Hold on, Slavin!" he called in some alarm, as his irresponsible visitor rounded the structure, bent on forcing an entrance. "Hey, stop! Don't go in there."
Slavin had reached the lower door of the tower room.
"I tell you to stop!" cried Ralph strenuously. "There's a wild beast in there—the tiger that escaped from the circus."
"You can't bluff me," retorted Young Slavin, making a determined lurch through the doorway.
Ralph ran to a window sill and seized a long iron wrench lying there. He was really alarmed for the safety of his would-be visitor.
At all odds, he felt it his duty to save even an acknowledged enemy from a foolhardy fate.
Ralph got to the trap, and started to descend the ladder.
A curdling yell rang out from below, and Ralph saw tiger and pugilist whirling together in a maze of wild confusion.