Ralph of the Roundhouse; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XXIII--BARDON, THE INSPECTOR

  Matters dropped into a pleasant routine for Ralph, the two weekssucceeding his rather stormy introduction into active railroad life atthe roundhouse of the Great Northern at Stanley Junction.

  It was like a lull after the tempest. The youthful hoodlum gang thathad been a menace to Ralph and the railroad company had been entirelybroken up.

  Tim Forgan was a changed man. He and the senior Slump had driftedapart, and the foreman's previous irascibility and suspicious gloom haddeparted. He was more brisk, natural and cheery, and Ralph believed andfervently hoped had given up the tippling habit which had at times madehim a capricious slave to men and moods.

  The lame helper had become a useful, pleasant chum to Ralph. There wasnot a day that he did not teach the novice some new and practical pointin railroad experience.

  Gasper Farrington Ralph had not met again.

  At the cottage Van led an even, happy existence, making no trouble,being extremely useful and industrious, and daily more and moreendearing himself to both Ralph and Mrs. Fairbanks.

  With the dog house crowd Ralph had become a general favorite. He hadwon the regard of those rough and ready fellows, and his loyal adhesionto Griscom in the fire at the shops, his rescue of little Nora Forgan,and his manly, accommodating ways generally, had enforced their respect,and more than one dropped his oaths and coarseness when Ralphapproached, and they tipped over the liquor bottle of one of the"extras" who had the temerity to ask Ralph to test its contents.

  Altogether, Ralph was going through a happy experience, and every daylife and railroading seemed to develop some new charm of novelty andprogress.

  It was with a proud spirit that he took home his first month's salary,twenty-seven dollars and some odd cents.

  Those odd cents, with some added, Ralph stopped near the depot to handover to little Teddy.

  The county farm orphan had been turned loose from custody after a week'simprisonment, with orders to report to the police at nine o'clock everyMonday morning.

  He was practically on parole, the authorities hoping that on the trialof Cohen he might give some evidence that would implicate thestolen-goods receiver, and Ralph had run across the little fellowdrifting aimlessly about the town.

  Ralph had a long talk with him, then he decided to "stake" him as anewsboy. The depot watchman agreed to let him sell papers at the trainexit, and Teddy had done fairly well, earning enough to pay for hislodging, Ralph making up the deficiency as to meals.

  It was a bright hour in Mrs. Fairbanks' life when, after puttingtogether what money she had with Ralph's earnings, and deducting theinterest due Gasper Farrington, they were able to count a surplus ofnearly twelve dollars.

  Mrs. Fairbanks took the interest money to a bank where she had beennotified the note was deposited, paid the amount, received the note, andwith a lightened heart contemplated the future.

  Two mornings later, when Ralph entered the roundhouse, he was accostedby Limpy in a keen, quick way.

  "Primping day, Fairbanks," said the lame helper. "You want to hustle."

  "What are you getting at?" inquired Ralph.

  "Inspection."

  "That's new to me."

  "So I'll explain. The inspector is on his tour, we got the tip to-day.Came up on the daylight mail."

  "What does he inspect?"

  "Everything from a loose drop of oil to a boiler dent. He is so belovedthat the dog house crowd kick loose all the litter cans soon as he'sgone, and so particular that he inspects the locomotives with amagnifying glass."

  "Who is he?" inquired Ralph curiously.

  "Bardon is his name--it ought to be Badone! He's a relative of andtrains with the division superintendent. He acted as a spy at theswitchmen's strike, got nearly killed for his sneaking tactics, and thecompany rewarded him by giving him a gentlemanly position."

  Ralph readily saw that this Mr. Bardon was not a favorite with the rankand file of the railroad crowd.

  "Well, we'll have to show him what a lot of active elbow grease will dotowards making this a model roundhouse," said Ralph cheerfully.

  Limpy was not at all in harmony with this idea, and showed it plainly byaction and words. He and the others considered the roundhouse and itsprivileges essentially their personal property, and resented advice orcensure, especially from a man whom they intensely disliked.

  During the afternoon various little things were done about the dog housethat indicated the spirit of the crowd there. A pasteboard box nailedto the wall bore written directions to engineers and firemen to keeptheir kid gloves there. Another stated that brakemen must not wearturned collars. Various receptacles were labeled "For cinders," "Cleanyour nails here," and the general layout was a palpable satire on thestrained relations with an expected visitor who was considered amartinet.

  Ralph went carefully and conscientiously to work to brighten up things abit and make them look their best, while Limpy growled and grumbled athim all the afternoon.

  About four o'clock the lame helper was enjoying a brief respite fromwork at his usual lounging place, standing on a bench and looking out ofa window. He called Ralph so suddenly and sharply that the latterhurried towards him.

  "Quick!" uttered Limpy, face and hands working spasmodically, as theyalways did when he was excited.

  "What's up?" inquired Ralph, leaping to the bench beside him.

  "Look there!" directed the helper.

  He pointed to a long freight train backing down the tracks. It had justpassed a switch.

  "Pivot loose, and the signal flanges exactly reversed!" pronounced Limpyquickly. "They think they are on track A. Say, it's sure to be asmash!"

  In a twinkling Ralph's eye took in the situation. The train was on acurve, and had run back all right in response to switch A, set open,according to the white indicator on top. But red should have shown, itappeared. The pivot holding the signal in unison with the operating barmust have become loosened, and the wind had blown the signal plate awry.

  The freight, therefore, had struck track B, which a hundred feet furtheron split off onto two sets of rails. Both had short ends, terminatingat bumpers, and each held a single car.

  Track C held a gaudy, expensive car belonging to some traveling show,all gold and glitter, and must have cost eighteen thousand dollars.Track D held an old disabled box car. And into one or the other ofthese the backing freight was destined to run unless checked inside ofthe next half minute.

  "Give me a show!" spoke Ralph, in a hurry.

  He brushed Limpy aside, leaped through the window, struck the groundeight feet below the high sill, and made a run towards the backingfreight.

  The curve prevented his seeing the engine or any one to whom he mightsignal. He doubled his pace, reached the split switch, unlocked thebar, half-lifted it, and stood undecided.

  It was not his province to interfere, he well knew, if half the cars onthe road were reduced to kindling wood through the mistake orcarelessness of some one else, but action was irresistible with hisimpetuous nature when the same meant timely service.

  If he left the switch as it now was, the freight would back down intothe show car with terrific destructive force.

  It seemed a pity to spoil that new pretty model of the car builder'sart. Ralph discerned that the box car was ready for the scrap heap, anddecided.

  He pulled the switch over, not a moment too soon, jumped back, and thenext minute the freight train struck the solitary box car, and itcollapsed like a folding accordion.