Ralph of the Roundhouse; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man
Page 24
CHAPTER XXIV--A NEW ENEMY
The box car was smashed teetotally. The car that struck it had one endbattered in, its rear trucks rode up over the debris threatening totelescope or derail others, but the engineer ahead, catching the tokenof some obstruction from the shock, shut off steam quick enough toprevent any very serious general results.
The crash had sounded far and wide. Ralph stood surveying the wreck andruin in a kind of fascinated daze.
Yardmen came rushing up from all directions. Soon too, the brakeman ofthe freight and its engineer were hurrying to the scene of the wreck.
More leisurely, a man carrying a cane, faultlessly dressed, andaccompanied by the depot master, crossed from the semaphore house to thespot.
Ralph turned to look at the stranger of the twain as he heard a voice inthe crowd say:
"There's Bardon, the inspector."
The engineer was vociferously disclaiming any responsibility in theaffair, and his brakeman tranquilly listened to him as he recited thathe had taken signals as set.
The one-armed switchman who had charge of these tracks appeared on thescene, his signal flag stuck under his perfect arm, and lookingflustered.
Everybody was asking questions or explaining, as the depot master andhis companion edged their way to the rails.
Ralph had a full view now of the man he knew to be Bardon, theinspector.
His first impression was a vivid one. He saw nothing in the coarse,sensual lips and shifty, sneering eye of the man to commend him foreither humanity or ability.
"What's the trouble here?" questioned Bardon, with the air of a personowning everything in sight, and calling down the humble myrmidons whohad dared to interfere with the smooth workings of an immaculate railwaysystem.
"You ought to be able to see," growled the freight engineer bluntly.
The inspector frowned at this free-and-easy, offhand offense to hisdignity and importance.
"I'm Bardon," he said, as if the mention of that name would suffice tobring the stalwart engineer to the dust.
"I know you are," said the latter indifferently. "Cut off the two lastcars," he ordered to his brakeman, turning his back on Bardon andstarting back for his engine to pull out.
"Hold on," ordered the inspector.
The engineer halted with a sullen, disrespectful face.
"Well?" he projected.
"Who's to blame in this smash up?"
"Tain't me, that's dead sure," retorted the engineer, with a carelessshrug of his shoulders, "and we'll leave it to the yardmaster to findout."
"_I_ want to find out," spoke Bardon incisively--"I am here to do justthis kind of thing. Can't you read a signal right?" he demanded of thebrakeman.
The latter smiled a lazy smile, lurched amusedly from side to side, tooka chew of tobacco, and counter-questioned:
"Can't you?"
Mr. Bardon, inspector, was getting scant courtesy shown him all around,and his eyes flashed. He deigned to glance at the first switch. It wasset wrong, he could detect that at a glance.
"How's this?" he called to the one-armed switchman sharply. "You'reresponsible here."
"I reckon not, cap'n," answered the man lightly. "The switch is set onrule. I got no signal to change it."
"But the indicator's wrong?"
"That's the repair gang's business--and the wind. The Great Northerndon't own the wind, so I reckon it will have to pocket the lossgracefully."
Bardon bit his lips.
"We've saved the junkmen a job as it is," said the freight engineer."The switch was set for track C. You'd have had a pretty bill if you'dsmashed that twenty-thousand dollar show car yonder."
"That's right--the switch was C open," declared the switchman.
"Then who changed it?" demanded Bardon, scenting a chance yet to exploithis meddling, nosing qualifications.
Ralph hesitated. He doubted if Bardon was the proper party to whom toreport. He, however, simplified the situation by saying:
"I did it, sir."
"Eh? Why--you!" exclaimed the inspector, turning on him with amalevolent scowl.
"Yes, sir."
"What did you change it for?"
The freight engineer gave a derisive guffaw.
"To save the show car, of course!" he said quickly. "The company owesyou about nineteen thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars, kid!"declared the engineer, giving Ralph a glance of the profoundestadmiration.
But Mr. Bardon, inspector, was not to be moved by matters of sentiment.He fixed a stony stare on the free-and-easy engineer, and turned uponRalph, the icy, immovable disciplinarian to perfection.
"What right have you to tamper with the railway company's switches?" hedemanded.
"None, perhaps," answered Ralph, "but----"
"You are a switchman?"
"No, sir, but I am an employe of the company."
"Oh, you are?"
Ralph bowed.
"In what capacity?"
"Wiper."
"At the roundhouse?"
"Yes."
"And you took it on yourself to----"
"To choose the best horn of a dilemma, and saved the company a big lumpof money," put in the imperturbable freight engineer. "And bully foryou, kid! and if we had more sharp young eyes and ready wits like yours,there would not be so many smash-ups. That's right, Bardon?"
The inspector scowled dreadfully. If the engineer had called him Mr.Bardon he might have coincided in the view of the case presented.Turning his back on the free and fearless knight of the lever as if hewas dirt under his feet, he took out a pencil and memorandum book.
"I'll look into this matter myself," he said severely. "You say you area wiper, young man?"
"Yes, sir," assented Ralph.
"Name?"
"Fairbanks--Ralph Fairbanks."
"What--eh? Oh, yes! Ralph Fairbanks."
The young railroader regarded the inspector with positive astonishmentas he uttered that sharp startling "What." He was manifestly roused up.Quickly, however, Bardon recovered himself, looked Ralph over with adecided show of interest, seemed secretly thinking of something, andthen, fingering over the pages of his memorandum book, appeared lookingfor a notation, found it apparently, glanced again at Ralph in asinister way, and said calmly:
"Very well, get your time."
"What is that, sir?" exclaimed Ralph, startled anew.
"Laid off, pending an investigation," added Bardon.
Ralph's heart beat a trifle unsteadily, but he straightened up withdecision.
"Does that mean, Mr. Bardon, that I am not to go back to work?"
"You can understand what you like," snapped the inspector, seeminglyglad to show his authority to this disrespectful crowd, and appearing tobear some personal spite against Ralph in particular, "only you aresuspended until this matter is looked into."
Bardon turned to resume his way with the depot master, who looked boredand uneasy.
"Hold on!" thundered a tremendous bass voice. "That don't work."
A greasy paw closed around the immaculate coat-sleeve of the inspector,who turned with a brow as dark as a thunder cloud.
"Drop my arm--what do you mean!" breathed Bardon, with a glance at thehusky freight engineer as if he would annihilate him.
"Just this, Mr. Inspector Bardon," said the engineer, with anever-quailing eye and the zest of extreme satisfaction in words andbearing, "you can't lay anybody off."
"I represent the Great Northern Railway Company," announced Bardongrandiloquently.
"Read your rules, then," retorted the engineer, "and see how far it willsustain you in exceeding your duties. I tell you they won't uphold you,and I speak with the voice of eighty-six thousand men and theirauxiliaries behind me--the International Brotherhood of LocomotiveEngineers."
Bardon stood nonplussed. He fidgeted and turned ghastly with vexation.
"I'll see that the proper official carries out my instructions just thesame," he said in a kind of a vicious
hiss.
"There's just one man to help you, then," coolly announced the engineer,"and that's Tim Forgan."
The inspector moved hastily away.
"And he won't do it!" concluded the engineer, in an chuckling undertone,giving Ralph a ringing slap on the shoulder.