CHAPTER XXIII
THE PICNIC TRAIN
Zeph Dallas had returned to work. His connection with the strikers had been fully explained to the railroad people by Ralph, and the farmer boy was readily taken back into the service of the company. Zeph boarded with Mrs. Fairbanks, and Limpy Joe did, too, when he was in Stanley Junction.
The enterprising Joe was winning his way famously. His advertising scheme was a grand success, and the nuts he gathered brought in a good many dollars. One day he came to town to announce that he was going to move his traps, thanking Mrs. Fairbanks for her great kindness to him in the past.
"Are you going to leave the Junction permanently, Joe?" asked Ralph.
"I think so," answered the cripple. "You see, I have been up to the headquarters of the Short Line Railroad. They can use my horse and wagon. They offer me a good salary to cook for them, and the concession of running a restaurant when their line is completed."
"A good opportunity, that, Joe," said Ralph, "although the main prospect you mention is far in the future, isn't it?"
"Not at all," declared Joe. "I guess you haven't kept track of proceedings in The Barrens. Their telegraph line is clear through, both ways from headquarters now. The bonds are nearly all sold, and they expect to begin to lay the rails in earnest next week."
"I noticed a good deal of activity at our end of the line," said Ralph. "I think the scheme is going to be a success. I almost wish I was going to work with you fellows."
It was now drawing on towards late fall. For several weeks the young fireman had not been disturbed by his enemies. Work had gone on smoothly. He was learning more and more every day, and his savings amounted to quite a pretentious sum.
The only outside issue that troubled Ralph was the fact that they had not yet recovered the twenty thousand dollars due his mother from old Gasper Farrington. That individual had disappeared. Ralph kept a sharp lookout, for upon finding the magnate and bringing him to terms depended the last chance of getting the money.
There was the last picnic of the season one day, and Ralph had been assigned to duty to look after things generally. He was surprised when Forgan took him off the run of the Limited Mail.
"It will be a sort of vacation holiday for you, lad," said the roundhouse foreman. "We want somebody reliable to look after the train, with so many women and children aboard. You will be boss over the engineer, fireman and the whole train crew for the day."
"Quite an important commission," said Ralph, "but what will the train crew say about it?"
"Oh, they will be glad to work with the responsibility on somebody else. Here is the schedule. Be careful of your running time, Fairbanks. I wouldn't have anything happen to the picnic train for worlds."
Ralph studied out the situation. When the train left Stanley Junction he took a position in the locomotive, attended to reports at all stations they passed, and the train reached the picnic grounds in safety and was run on the siding.
Ralph gave himself up to the enjoyment of a real holiday. He knew nearly everybody on the picnic grounds and nearly everybody there knew him. About the middle of the afternoon a boy living at the Junction came up to him.
"Say, Ralph," he remarked, tendering the young fireman a note. "A fellow out in the woods gave me this for you."
Ralph took the missive, and, opening it, read its contents with mingled surprise and suspicion. The note ran:
"If R. F. wants to hear of something to his advantage, come to the old railroad bridge right away."
There was no signature to the scrawl, but Ralph quite naturally thought of Ike Slump and his crowd. That did not, however, deter him from going to keep the appointment. He cut a stout cudgel and proceeded to the old railroad bridge named in the note.
The young fireman glanced keenly about him, but for some time did not get a view of anybody in the vicinity. Finally from a clump of bushes up the incline a handkerchief waved. Ralph climbed the embankment to find himself facing Ike Slump.
The latter was ragged and starved-looking. To Ralph it appeared that the ex-roundhouse boy had been having a decidedly hard time of it recently.
"You needn't carry any stick around here," said Slump, sullenly. "You needn't be afraid of me."
"Not at all," answered Ralph, "although your actions in the past would warrant my having a whole battery around me."
"That's done with," asserted Slump, quite meekly. "Bemis is up there a little ways. You needn't be afraid of him, either."
"What are you getting at with all this talk, Ike?" inquired Ralph.
"Why, we want to be friends."
"What for?"
"Because—because we're tired of starving and being hunted and the like," said Slump. "You have won out, we are beaten. We want to work together."
"I declare I don't understand what you are driving at," said Ralph. "Come, Ike Slump, play no more crafty games. It don't pay. Be honest and straight. What did you bring me here for?"
"To make some money for both of us."
"In what way?"
"You would give a good deal to find Gasper Farrington, wouldn't you, now?"
"I certainly am anxious to locate that man, yes," answered Ralph frankly.
"All right, we know where he is."
"And you are willing to make amends, I suppose, for your past misconduct by telling me where Farrington is to be found, so that I can have him arrested."
"Well, I guess not!" cried Mort Bemis, coming upon the scene. "We want pay for what we do. We want a hundred dollars to begin with. A lot more when you get that money he owes you."
"My friends," said Ralph, promptly turning from the spot. "Not a cent. I don't believe you know how to act square. You don't show it by your present proposition. If you really want to be helped, and if you are sorry for your past wrong doing, come back to Stanley Junction, tell the truth, take your punishment like men, and I will be your good friend."
"Well, you're a bold ones" sneered Slump, getting very angry. "You won't help us out, then?"
"With money—on your promise? No. I shall find Gasper Farrington finally without your aid, and, if you have nothing further to say, I shall return to the picnic grounds."
"I don't think you will," said Bemis, roughly placing himself in Ralph's path.
"Why not?" inquired the young fireman calmly, grasping his cudgel with a closer grip.
"Because—say, Ike, grab him, quick! If he won't deal with us and we can get him a prisoner, Farrington will pay us. You know he always wanted to get rid of him."
Ralph prepared to meet the enemy squarely. Slump and Bemis rushed towards him. Before they could begin the fight, however, a man burst through the underbrush whom Ralph recognized as a Stanley Junction police officer detailed on picnic duty.
"Found you, my friends, have I?" he hailed the two fellows. "Grab one of them, Fairbanks, I've got the other. I was on the lookout for them. They stole a purse from the basket of an old lady in the picnic grounds a few hours ago. Slump? Bemis? Well, you are a fine pair, you are!"
The officer insisted on arresting them, the more so that upon recognizing them now he suddenly remembered that a reward had been offered for their apprehension by the railroad company. The crestfallen plotters were taken to the train and locked up in one end of the express car.
Ralph went to them after a spell and tried to learn something more from them, but they were now sullen and vengeful.
In due time the train was backed down to the main track, the engine detached made a run for water, and, returning, stood some little distance from the cars.
The fireman and engineer left the engine to help their families gather up their traps and take them aboard the train. Ralph was busy in the cab. He was looking over the gauges when a sudden blow from behind stretched him insensible on the coal of the tender.
As he slowly opened his eyes Ralph saw Slump and Bemis in the cab. In some way they had escaped, had stolen the locomotive, and were speeding away to liberty.
"Just heard a whistle. It must be the Dover Accommodation," Slump was remarking. "Get off and open the siding switch, Mort."
This Bemis did, and the engine started up again. Ralph thrilled at the words Slump had spoken. He was weak and dizzy-headed, but he made a desperate effort, staggered to his feet and sprang from the cab.
Had the locomotive remained at the picnic grounds, the train would have been switched to the siding again until the Accommodation passed. As it was, unwarned, the Accommodation would crash into the train.
Ralph heard its whistle dangerously near. He looked up and down the tracks. Ahead, a bridge crossed the tracks, and near it was a framework with leather pendants to warn freight brakemen in the night time. Towards this Ralph ran swiftly. Weak as he was, he managed to scale the framework, gained its center, and sat there panting, poised for the most desperate action of his young career.
The Accommodation train came into view. Ralph sat transfixed, knowing that he would soon face death, but unmindful of the fact in the hope that his action would save the lives of those aboard the picnic train.
The Accommodation neared him. The young fireman got ready to drop. He let go, crashed past the roof of the cab, and landed between the astonished engineer and fireman.
"The picnic train—on the main, stop your locomotive!" he panted, and fainted dead away.