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

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XXVIII--MYSTERY

  Ralph outran his competitor, then kept easy pace with him, and did nottry to stop him. He recognized a certain obstinacy and impetuousness inVan that he felt he must deal with in a politic manner.

  He noticed, too, that Van was not in normal physical trim. The rolldown the embankment had wrenched one foot slightly, and when they cameto the bend to discover no gig in sight, and a series of other bendsahead, Van halted, breathless and tired.

  "Give it up!" he panted, sinking to a dead tree. "Oh, well! I cancatch him up later. Twenty-miles tramp, though."

  "You seem to know who the man in the linen duster is?" ventured Ralph.

  "Oh, yes."

  "Is it important that you should see him?"

  "Well, I guess so!"

  Van was close-mouthed after that. He lay back somewhat wearily on thelog and closed his eyes. The reaction from his tumble was succeedingthe false energy excitement had briefly given him.

  "See here," said Ralph, "I suggest that you take a little snooze. Itmay do you a heap of good."

  "Wish that lady was here to sing one of her sweet songs!" murmured Van."I just feel collapsed."

  "If you will stay here quietly for a few minutes," suggested Ralph, "Iwill go to that house over yonder and get some water and a bite to eat.That will make you feel better. We had a lunch, but it was left behindon the locomotive."

  "All right," said Van sleepily.

  He seemed instantly to sink into slumber. Ralph waited a few moments,then he went over to a house on the outskirts of the town, all the timekeeping an eye directed towards the spot where he had left hiscompanion.

  A woman stood in its open doorway. She had witnessed the jump from thelocomotive, and referred to it at once.

  "Where's the boy who was with you?" she inquired.

  Ralph pointed to the spot where he had left Van.

  "Was he hurt much?"

  "I think not at all seriously. He's played out, though, and I haveadvised him to sleep a little."

  "That's right," nodded the woman. "Natur's the panoseeds for all sich.That--and hot drops. You just take him a little phial of our vegetablehot drops. They'll fix him up like magic."

  "Why, thank you, madam, I will, if you can spare them," said Ralph. "Iwas also going to ask you to put me up a bite of something to eat andlet me have a bottle of water."

  "Surely I will," and the good-hearted woman, pleased with Ralph'sengaging politeness, bustled off and soon returned with a paper parcel,a two-quart bottle of water and a little phial filled with a darkliquid.

  Ralph insisted on leaving her twenty-five cents, and went back to hisfriend with a parting admonition "to be sure and give him the hot dropssoon as he woke up."

  Van was sleeping profoundly, and Ralph did not disturb him. He satwatching the slumberer steadily. Van seemed to have placid, pleasantdreams, for he often smiled in his sleep, and once murmured the refrainof one of Mrs. Fairbanks' favorite songs.

  An hour later Van turned over and sat up quickly. Ralph had beensomewhat anxious, for he did not know what phase his companion'scondition might assume at this new stage in the case. Van came upright,however, and dispelled vague fears--clear-eyed, smiling, bright as adollar.

  "Hello!" he hailed--"locomotive, friend, embankment. You're Fairbanks?"

  "That's right," said Ralph--"you remember me, do you?"

  "Sure, I do. What's in the bundle? Grub? and the bottle? Water? Giveme a swig--I'm burned up with thirst."

  "This first," said Ralph, producing the phial, and explaining itspredicted potency. "Half of it--now some water, if you like."

  Van choked and spluttered over the hot decoction. Ralph was immenselygratified as he followed it up by eating a good meal of the home-madepie, biscuits and cheese with which the kindhearted woman at the nearesthouse had provided them.

  Van's affliction had lifted like a cloud blown entirely away by a brisk,invigorating breeze.

  "Rested and fed," he declared, with a sigh of luxurious contentment andsatisfaction. "So I was crazy, eh?" he bluntly propounded.

  "Certainly not."

  "Idiotic, then?"

  "Hardly," dissented Ralph. "My mother has grown to think almost as muchof you as she does of me----"

  "Bless her dear heart!"

  "You've made our home lot look like the grounds of some summer villa,"went on Ralph. "That don't look as though there was much the matterwith you, does it?"

  "But there was. It's all over now, though. My head is clear as a bell.I remember nearly everything. Now I want you to tell me the rest."

  Ralph decided it was the time to do so. They would certainly be atcross-purposes on many perplexing points, until his companion had gaineda clear comprehension of the entire situation.

  There was never a more attentive listener. Van's eyes fairly devouredthe narrator, and when the graphic recital was concluded, hiswonderment, suspense, surprise and anxiety all gave way to one greatmanifestation of gratitude and delight, as he warmly grasped Ralph'shand.

  "I never read, heard or dreamed of such treatment!" declared thewarm-hearted boy. "You cared for me like a prince!"

  "Seeing that I had so effectually put you out of business," suggestedRalph, "I fancy I had some responsibility in the case."

  "I want to see your mother again," said Van, in a soft, quivering voice."I want to tell her that she's woke up something good and happy and holyin me. I was a poor, friendless, homeless waif, and she kept me in akind of paradise."

  "Well, you have woke up to more practical realities of life," suggestedRalph, "and now what are you going to do next?"

  But Van could not get away from the theme uppermost in his mind.

  "And you are John Fairbanks' son?" he continued musingly. "And I landedagainst you first crack out of the box! That was queer, wasn't it?Some people would call it fate, wouldn't they? It's luck, anyhow--foryou sure, for me maybe. The letter didn't tell you anything, though.Now what should I do? Say, Fairbanks, let me think a little, will you?"

  Ralph nodded a ready acquiescence, and Van sat evidently going over thesituation in his mind. As he looked up in an undecided way, Ralph said:

  "I don't see any great occasion for secrecy or reflection. You weresent to deliver a letter?"

  "Yes, that's so."

  "To my father. My father is dead. We open the letter, as we have aright to do. It satisfies us that the writer knows considerable thatmight vitally affect our interests. Very well, it seems to me that yourduty is to take me, the representative of John Fairbanks, straight tothe person who wrote that letter."

  "Yes," said Van, "that looks all clear and nice enough to you, but Idon't know how he might take it."

  "You mean the writer of the letter?"

  "Of course."

  "Whose name is Farwell Gibson."

  "I didn't say so," declared Van evasively.

  "But I know it, don't I? Have you any reason for concealing hisidentity?"

  "Yes, sir, I have," declared Van flatly.

  "Why?"

  "I can't tell you that. See here, Fairbanks, you guess what you like,but until I have reported the result of my mission to--to him, I have noright to say another word."

  "All right," assented Ralph. "It will all come out clear in the end,only before we drop the subject I would like to make another guess."

  "What is it?" challenged Van.

  "That man in the long linen duster in the one-horse gig was FarwellGibson."