CHAPTER XVIII--A NAME TO CONJURE BY?
Big Denny came to where Ralph was putting the finishing touches to oneof the fast runners of the road about ten o'clock one morning.
Nobody in the world enjoyed talk and gossip like the veteran watchman,as Ralph well knew, and it really pleased him to have his company, foramong the driftwood of all his desultory confidences Denny usuallyproduced some point interesting or enlightening.
On this especial occasion there was a zest to the old watchman'sgreeting of the young railroader that indicated he had something of morethan ordinary interest to impart.
"By the way, Fairbanks," he observed, "I saw that rich old hunks,Farrington, this morning. He was down here."
"At the roundhouse, you mean?" inquired Ralph, with some interest.
"Well, not exactly. He was over by the switch towers, met Forgan, andhad quite a talk with him. Thought I'd post you."
"Why, what about?" asked Ralph.
"He'll be after you, next."
"Not until the first of next month, when the interest is due, I fancy,"said Ralph. "I do not think Mr. Farrington has any interest in usoutside of his semi-annual interest."
"He'll be nosing around, see if he isn't!" predicted Denny oracularly."I've got a tip to give you, Fairbanks. I got the point yesterday.There's some talk of running a switch over to Bloomdale. If they do,they'll have to condemn a right of way, along where you live. Word tothe wise, eh? nuff said!" and Denny departed, with a significant wink.
Ralph wondered if there was any real basis to Denny's intimation. Hefancied it was only one of the rumors constantly floating around aboutprospective railroad improvements.
That evening, however, Ralph received a suggestion that put him on hisguard, if nothing more.
He had gone down town to get some nails for Van, who was building a newchicken coop, when he met Grif Farrington.
"Just looking for you," declared Grif. "I say, Fairbanks, the old manis anxious to see you."
"Your uncle wants to see me?" repeated Ralph incredulously.
"Right away. Asked me to find you and tell you. Business, he says, andimportant. You couldn't run up to the house now, could you?" he added.
Ralph hesitated--he was suspicious of old Gasper Farrington, and he hadno business with him, for it was his mother's province to attend toanything concerning their money dealings, and he did not feel warrantedin interfering.
On second thought, however, Ralph decided that they could not know toomuch of the plots and intentions of Farrington, and he told Grif hewould go up to the house at once.
Gasper Farrington lived in a fine old mansion, from parsimony, however,allowed to go to decay, so that all that was really attractive about theplace were the grounds.
Ralph found the magnate seated on the porch. He knew that something wasup as Farrington arose with a great show of welcome, made him sit downin the easiest chair, and treated him as if he were the dearest friendthe old man had in the world.
"You sent for me, Mr. Farrington?" Ralph observed, between someflattering but meaningless remarks of his wily host.
"Why, yes--yes," assented Farrington.
"On business, your nephew told me."
"H'm--hardly that. I'll tell you, Fairbanks, I have been greatlyinterested and pleased to notice the manly course you have taken."
"Thank you, Mr. Farrington."
"In fact, I have taken pains to inquire of your direct employers as toyour capability and record, and am gratified to find themgood--exceptionally good."
Ralph wondered what was coming next.
"Your father was my friend--I want to be yours. I am not without acertain interest and influence in the matter of the railroad, as you mayknow, and I have decided to exert myself in your behalf."
"You are very kind," said Ralph.
"Not at all. I recognize merit, and I--u'm! I feel a decided duty inthe premises. The auditor of the road at Springfield holds his officethrough my recommendation. I was talking with him yesterday, and I havea proposition to make you. I will give you five hundred dollars morethan the market price for your house and lot, rent you a place I own atSpringfield for a mere nominal turn, and guarantee you a good officeposition in the auditor's department there at forty dollars a month tostart in with."
Ralph opened his eyes wide. It was certainly a tempting bait. Had anyperson but crafty old Gasper Farrington made the tender, he might havejumped at it.
Instantly, however, he remembered what Denny had said about the newline, recalled the fact that Farrington had never been known to make abad bargain, compared confining labor over a desk in a hot, stiflingroom with the free, glad dash of mail and express, the bracing air, theconstant change of real railroad life, reflected that once away fromStanley Junction he and his mother would never be likely to learn moreof Farrington's past doings with his dead father, and--Ralph decided.
"Mr. Farrington," he said, "in regard to the cottage, that is mymother's sole business, and I do not think she could be induced to sellyou a place that has been a very dear home to her. As to myself--Ithank you for your kind intentions, but at present I have no desire tochange my work."
"Why not--why not?" cried Farrington. He had been unctuous, smirkingand eager. Now his brow darkened, and his thin lips came together in asour, vicious way.
"Well, I have marked out a certain thorough course after much thoughtand advice, and do not like to depart from it."
Gasper Farrington got up and paced the porch restlessly. The old rancorand dislike came back to his thin, shrewd face.
"You'll regret it!" he mumbled.
"I hope not," said Ralph, rising also.
"Young man," observed Farrington, stabbing at his guest with a quiveringfinger, "I warn you that you are taking an obstinate and fatal course."
"Warn?" echoed Ralph--"that is pretty strong language, isn't it, Mr.Farrington?"
"And I mean it to be so!" cried Farrington, casting aside all disguise."I said I had influence. I have. You can't work for the Great Northernin Stanley Junction, if I say not."
Ralph stared at the speaker incredulously. He could not comprehend howFarrington could show the bad policy to put himself on record with sucha remark, be his intentions what they might.
"In fact, sir," said Ralph, "you mean to intimate that you will get medischarged?"
"I mean just that," unblushingly admitted Farrington. "I will allow nopauper brood to stand in the way of my--of my----"
Ralph felt the blood surge hotly to his temples. With a strong efforthe 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 afterour little property, because you have learned that the railroad may soonpay a big price for it. You want us out of Stanley Junction, becauseyou are afraid we may find out something about your dealings with mydead father. To carry your point, you threaten me--me, a poor boy, juststarting in to win his way by hard work--you threaten to plot againstand ruin me. Very well, Mr. Farrington, go ahead. I have too muchreliance in the teachings of a good mother to believe that you willsucceed."
"What! what!" shouted the magnate, almost choking with rage andmortification at this unvarnished arraignment, "you dare to tell methis? 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 meas you have others. As you did----"
Like an inspiration a suggestion came to Ralph Fairbanks' mind at thatmoment.
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 hissoul. "Farwell" was the name Big Denny had spoken--"Farwell Gibson."
"As you di
d 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 hauntedwith dread.
"That name!" he gasped, clutching at a chair for support. "What do youknow of Farwell Gibson?"
"Only," answered Ralph, "that he wrote to my father last week."
"He--wrote--" choked out Farrington, "last week--to your father--FarwellGibson!"
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 porchfloor in a fit.
Ralph of the Roundhouse; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man Page 18