The next morning Ralph had just completed his breakfast, when his mother went to the front door to answer the bell. She showed some one into the parlor and told Ralph that a gentleman wished to see him.

The young fireman was somewhat astonished, upon entering the parlor, to be grasped by the hand and almost embraced by a stranger.

"I am Judge Graham," spoke the latter, in a trembling, excited tone. "Young man, you saved the life of my only child."

"I was glad to," said Ralph modestly.

The judge went on with a description of the joy and gratitude of the mother of the child, of his sentiments towards Ralph, and concluded with the words:

"And now, Mr. Fairbanks, I wish to reward you."

"That has been done already," said Ralph, "in your gracious words to me."

"Not at all, not at all," declared the judge. "Come, don't be modest. I am a rich man."

"And I a rich mother in having so noble a son," spoke Mrs. Fairbanks, with deep emotion. "You must not think of a reward, sir. He will not take it."

After a while the judge left the house, but he did so with an insistent and significant declaration that "he would not forget" Ralph.

The young fireman was surprised to see him returning a few minutes later, in the company of two of his own friends, Mr. Trevor, the nephew of the president of the Great Northern, and Van Sherwin.

"Well, this is a queer meeting," cried Van with enthusiasm, as they entered the house. "Here we met Judge Graham, who is a great friend of Mr. Trevor, and the very man we wished to see."

This statement was soon explained. It appeared that Mr. Trevor had fully recovered his health, and had come to Stanley Junction with Van to make preparations to issue and sell the bonds of the Short Cut Railroad. The judge was one of the friends he had intended to interview about buying some bonds.

For an hour young Trevor recited to Judge Graham the prospects of the little railway line and their plans regarding the same. Ralph was fascinated at his glowing descriptions of its great future.

Ralph's visitors went away, but in a short time Van returned to the cottage.

"I say, Ralph," he remarked, "Judge Graham is going to invest in those bonds."

"That's good," said Ralph.

"And I heard him tell Mr. Trevor to put down an extra block of them in the name of Ralph Fairbanks."



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 one," 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.



CHAPTER XXIV

IN "THE BARRENS"

Ralph Fairbanks had taken a terrible risk, and had met with his first serious accident since he had commenced his career as a young fireman. When he next opened his eyes he was lying in his own bed, a doctor and his mother bending solicitously over him.

Slowly reason returned to him. He stared wonderingly about him and tried to arise. A terrible pain in his feet caused him to subside. Then Ralph realized that he had suffered some serious injury from his reckless drop into the locomotive cab near the picnic grounds.

"What is it, doctor?" he asked faintly.

"A bad hurt in one arm and some ugly bruises. It is a wonder you were not crippled for life, or killed outright."

"The train—the picnic train!" cried Ralph, clearly remembering now the incidents of the stolen engine.

"The Accommodation stopped in time to avert a disaster," said Mrs. Fairbanks.

Ralph closed his eyes with a satisfied expression on his face. He soon sank into slumber. It was late in the day when he awoke. Gradually his strength came back to him, and he was able to sit up in bed.

The next day he improved still more, and within a week he was able to walk down to the roundhouse. Forgan and all his old friends greeted him royally.

"I suppose you have the nerve to think you are going to report for duty," observed Forgan. "Well, you needn't try. Orders are to sick list you for a month's vacation."

"I will be able to work in a week," declared Ralph.

"Vacation on full pay," continued the roundhouse foreman.

Ralph had to accept the situation. He told his mother the news, and they had a long talk over affairs in general. The doctor advised rest and a change of scene. The next day Van Sherwin called on his way back to The Barrens. That resulted in the young fireman joining him, and his mother urged him to remain with his friends and enjoy his vacation.

A recruit to the ranks of the workers of the Short Cut Railroad presented himself as Ralph and Van left for the depot one morning to ride as far as Wilmer. This was Zeph Dallas.

"No use talking," said the farmer boy. "I'm lonesome here at Stanley Junction and I'm going to join Joe."

"All right," assented Van, "if you think it wise to leave a steady job here."

"Why, you'll soon be able to give me a better one, won't you?" insisted Zeph. "It just suits me, your layout down there in The Barrens. Take me along with you."

When they reached Wilmer and left the train, Van pointed proudly to a train of freight cars on the Great Northern tracks loaded with rails and ties.

"That's our plunder," he said cheerily. "Mr. Trevor is hustling, I tell you. Why, Ralph, we expect to have this end of the route completed within thirty days."

As they traversed the proposed railroad line, Ralph was more and more interested in the project. Little squads of men were busily employed here and there grading a roadbed, and the telegraph line was strung over the entire territory.

They reached the headquarters about noon. A new sign appeared on the house, which was the center of the new railroad system. It was "Gibson."

A week passed by filled with great pleasure for the young railroader. Evenings, Mr. Gibson and his young friends discussed the progress and prospects of the railroad. There were to be two terminal stations and a restaurant at the Springfield end of the route. There were only two settlements in The Barrens, and depots were to be erected there.

"We shall have quite some passenger service," declared Mr. Gibson, "for we shorten the travel route for all transfer passengers as well as freight. The Great Northern people do not at all discourage the scheme, and the Midland Central has agreed to give us some freight contracts. Oh, we shall soon build up into a first-class, thriving, little railroad enterprise."

One evening a storm prevented Ralph from returning to headquarters, so he camped in with some workmen engaged in grading an especially difficult part of the route. The evening was passed very pleasantly, but just before nine o'clock, when all had thought of retiring, a great outcry came from the tent of the cook.

"I've got him, I've caught the young thief," shouted the cook, dragging into view a small boy who was sobbing and trembling with grief.

"What's the row?" inquired one of the workmen.

"Why, I've missed eatables for a week or more at odd times, and I just caught this young robber stealing a ham."

"I didn't steal it," sobbed the detected youngster. "I just took it. You'd take it, too, if you was in our fix. We're nearly starved."

"Who is nearly starved?" asked Ralph, approaching the culprit.

"Me and dad. We were just driven to pick up food anywhere. You've got lots of it. You needn't miss it. Please let me go, mister."

"No, the jail for you," threatened the cook direfully.

"Oh, don't take me away from my father," pleaded the affrighted youngster. "He couldn't get along without me."

"See here, cook, let me take this little fellow in hand," suggested Ralph.

"All right," assented the cook, adding in an undertone, "give him a good scare."

Ralph took the boy to one side. His name was Ned. His father, he said, was Amos Greenleaf, an old railroader, crippled in an accident some years before. He had become very poor, and they had settled in an old house in The Barrens a few miles distant. Ralph made up a basket of food with the cook's permission.

"Now then, Ned," said Ralph, "you lead the way to your home."

"You won't have me arrested?"

"Not if you have been telling me the truth."

"I haven't," declared the young lad. "It's worse than I tell it. Dad is sick and has no medicine. We have nearly starved."

It was an arduous tramp to the wretched hovel they at last reached. Ralph was shocked as he entered it. It was almost bare of furniture, and the poor old man who lay on a miserable cot was thin, pale and racked with pain.

"I am Ralph Fairbanks, a fireman on the Great Northern," said the young railroader, "and I came with your boy to see what we can do for you."

"A railroader?" said Greenleaf. "I am glad to see you. I was once in that line myself. Crippled in a wreck. Got poor, poorer, bad to worse, and here I am."

"Too bad," said Ralph sympathizingly. "Why have you not asked some of your old comrades to help you?"

"They are kind-hearted men, and did help me for a time, till I became ashamed to impose on their generosity."

"How were you injured, Mr. Greenleaf?" asked Ralph.

"In a wreck. It was at the river just below Big Rock. I was a brakeman. The train struck a broken switch and three cars went into the creek. I went with them and was crippled for life. One of them was a car of another road and not so high as the others, or I would have been crushed to death."

"A car of another road?" repeated Ralph with a slight start.

"Yes."

"You don't know what road it belonged to?"

"No. They recovered the other two cars. I never heard what became of the foreign car. I guess it was all smashed up."

"Gondola?"

"No, box car."

Ralph was more and more interested.

"When did this occur, Mr. Greenleaf?" he asked.

"Five years ago."

"Is it possible," said Ralph to himself, "that I have at last found a clew to the missing car Zeph Dallas and that car finder are so anxious to locate?"



CHAPTER XXV

TOO LATE

Two days later Ralph went down the line of the little railroad to where it met the tracks of the Great Northern. Mr. Gibson had sent him with some instructions to the men at work there, and at the request of the young fireman had assigned him to work at that point.

This consisted in checking up the construction supplies delivered by rail. Ralph had a motive in coming to this terminus of the Short Line Route. The information he had gained from the old, crippled railroader, Amos Greenleaf, had set him to thinking. He found Zeph Dallas working industriously, but said nothing about his plans until the next day.

At the noon hour he secured temporary leave of absence from work for Zeph and himself, and went to find his friend.

Zeph was a good deal surprised when Ralph told him that they were to have the afternoon for a ramble, but readily joined his comrade.

"Saw some friends of yours hanging around here yesterday," said the farmer boy.

"That so?" inquired Ralph.

"Yes, Slump and Bemis. Guess they were after work or food, and they sloped the minute they set eyes on me. Say, where are you bound for anyway, Ralph?"

"For Wilmer."

"What for?"

"I want to look around the river near there. The truth is, Zeph, I fancy I have discovered a clew to that missing freight car."

"What!" cried Zeph excitedly. "You don't mean car No. 9176?"

"I mean just that," assented Ralph. "Here, let us find a comfortable place to sit down, and I'll tell you the whole story."

Ralph selected a spot by a fence lining the railroad right of way. Then he narrated the details of his interview with Amos Greenleaf.

"Say," exclaimed Zeph, "I believe there's something to this. Every point seems to tally somehow to what information the car finder gave me, don't you think so? Besides, in investigating the matter, I heard about this same wreck. And five years ago? Ralph, this is worth looking up, don't you think so?"

Zeph was fairly incoherent amid his excitement. He could not sit still, and arose to his feet and began walking around restlessly.

"You see, it is a long time since the car disappeared," said Ralph, "and we may not be able to find any trace of it. The car finder, in his investigations, must have heard of this wreck. Still, as you say, it is worth following up the clew, and that is why I got a leave from work for the afternoon."

"Hello," said Zeph, looking in among the bushes abruptly, "some one in there? No, I don't see anybody now, but there was a rustling there a minute or two ago."

"Some bird or animal, probably," said Ralph. "Come on, Zeph, we will go to the bridge and start on our investigations."

The river near Wilmer was a broad stream. It was quite deep and had a swift current. The boys started down one bank, conversing and watching out. Ralph laughed humorously after a while.

"I fancy this is a kind of a blind hunt, Zeph," he said. "We certainly cannot expect to find that car lying around loose."

"Well, hardly, but we might find out where it went to if we go far enough," declared Zeph. "I tell you, I shall never give it up now if I have to go clear to the end of this river."

They kept on until quite late in the afternoon, but made no discoveries. They passed a little settlement and went some distance beyond it. Then Ralph decided to return to the railroad camp.

"All right," said Zeph, "only I quit work to-morrow."

"What for?"

"To find that car. I say, I'm thirsty. Let us get a drink of water at that old farm house yonder."

They went to the place in question and were drinking from the well bucket when the apparent owner of the place approached them.

"Won't you have a cup or a glass, my lads?" he inquired kindly.

"Oh, no, this is all right," said Ralph.

"On a tramp, are you?" continued the farmer, evidently glad to have someone to talk to.

"In a way, yes," answered Ralph, and then, a sudden idea struck him, he added: "By the way, you are an old resident here, I suppose?"

"Forty years or more."

"Do you happen to remember anything of a wreck at the bridge at Wilmer about five years ago?"

"Let me see," mused the man. "That was the time of the big freshet. Yes, I do remember it faintly. It's the freshet I remember most though. Enough timber floated by here to build a barn. See that old shed yonder?" and he pointed to a low structure. "Well, I built that out of timber I fished ashore. Lumber yard beyond Wilmer floated into the creek, and all of us along here got some of it."

"What do you know about the wreck?" asked Ralph.

"Heard about it at the time, that's all. Sort of connect the freshet with it. That was a great washout," continued the farmer. "Even sheds and chicken coops floated by. And say, a box car, too."

"Oh," cried Zeph, with a start as if he was shot.

"Indeed?" said Ralph, with a suppressed quiver of excitement in his tone.

"Yes. It went whirling by, big and heavy as it was."

"Say, Mister, you don't know where that car went to, do you?" inquired Zeph anxiously.

"Yes, I do. I know right where it is now."

"You do?"

"Yes, old Jabez Kane, ten miles down the creek, got it. He is using it now for a tool shed."

"Oh!" again cried Zeph, trembling with suspense and hope.

Ralph nudged him to be quiet. He asked a few more questions of the farmer and they left the place.

"Ralph," cried Zeph wildly, "we've found it!"

"Maybe not," answered the young fireman. "It may not be the same car."

"But you're going to find out?"

"It's pretty late. We had better make a day of it to-morrow."

"All right, if we can't attend to it to-day," said Zeph disappointedly; and then both returned to camp.

Next morning early both started for the creek again. By proceeding across the country diagonally, they saved some distance.

It was about noon when they approached a rickety, old farmhouse which a man had told them belonged to Jabez Kane.

"There it is, there it is," cried Zeph, as they neared it.

"Yes, there is an old box car in the yard near the creek, sure enough," said Ralph.

They entered the farm yard. The box of the car they looked at sat flat on the ground. It had been whitewashed several times, it appeared, so they could trace no markings on it. They approached it and stood looking it over when a man came out of the house near by.

"Hey," he hailed, advancing upon them. "What you trespassing for?"

"Are we?" inquired Ralph, with a pleasant smile. "We mean no harm."

"Dunno about that," said the farmer suspiciously. "Was you here last night?"

"Oh, no," answered Ralph.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I was sort of interested in this old car," announced Ralph.

"Why so?" demanded Kane.

"Well, we are looking for a car that floated down the creek here about five years ago."

"For the railroad?" asked the farmer.

"In a way, yes, in a way, no."

"Does the railroad want to take it away from me?"

"Certainly not. They would like to know, though, if it's a car of the Southern Air Line and numbered 9176."

"You've got it, lad. This was just that car. What's the amazing interest in it all of a sudden? Look here," and he took them around to the other side of the car. "Last night two boys came here; my son saw them hanging around here. Then they disappeared. This morning I found the car that way."

Ralph and Zeph stared in astonishment. A four-foot space of the boards on the outside of the car had been torn away. At one point there was a jagged break in the inside sheathing. In a flash the same idea occurred to both of them.

"Too late!" groaned poor Zeph. "Some one has been here and the diamonds are gone."

Ralph was stupefied. He remembered the rustling in the bushes when they were discussing their plans the day previous. He believed that their conversation had been overheard by some one.

Ralph asked the man to send for his son, which he did, and Ralph interrogated him closely. The result was a sure conviction that Ike Slump and Mort Bemis had secured the diamonds hidden in the box car about five years previous.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE MAD ENGINEER

"Well, good-bye, Zeph."

"Good-bye, Ralph. Another of my wild dreams of wealth gone."

"Don't fret about it, Zeph."

"How can I help it?"

Ralph had decided to return home. He was now fully recuperated, and his vacation period would expire in a few days.

It was the evening of the day when they had discovered the missing box car only to find that others had discovered it before them. Ralph had arranged to flag a freight at the terminus of the Short Line Route and was down at the tracks awaiting its coming.

The freight arrived, Ralph clambered to the cab, waved his hand in adieu to Zeph, and was warmly welcomed by his friends on the engine.

They had proceeded only a short distance when a boy came running down an embankment. So rapid and reckless was his progress that Ralph feared he would land under the locomotive. The lad, however, grasped the step of the cab, and was dragged dangerously near to the wheels. Ralph seized him just in time and pulled him up into the cab.

"Well!" commented the engineer, "it's a good thing we were going slow. Here, land out as you landed in, kid."

"Please don't," cried the boy, gazing back with tear-filled eyes and trembling all over. "Please let me ride with you."

"Against the rules."

"See, there they are!" almost shrieked the boy, pointing to two men who came rushing down the embankment. "Oh, don't let them get me."

"Give him a show till I learn his story," said Ralph to the engineer, so the latter put on steam and the two men were outdistanced.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" panted the boy, clinging close to Ralph.

"Come up on the water tank," said Ralph, "and I'll have a talk with you."

The lad, whom the young fireman had befriended, was a forlorn-looking being. He wore no shoes, was hatless, and had on a coat many sizes too large for him.

"Now then, what's the trouble?" inquired Ralph, when they were both seated on the water tank.

"Those men were pursuing me," said the lad.

"What for?"

"I was running away from them. They are my uncles, and they have been very wicked and cruel to me. They want to send me to a reform school to get rid of me, and locked me up. I ran away this morning, but they got trace of me again."

"What is your name?"

"Earl Danvers. My father died and left them my guardians. They are after the property, I guess."

"What do you propose to do?"

"Oh, anything to get away from them."

Ralph talked for quite a while with the boy and learned his entire history. Then he said:

"This is a case for a lawyer. Would you like to come to Stanley Junction with me and have a lawyer look into the matter for you?"

"No. I only want to escape from those bad men."

"That will follow. You come with me. I will interest myself in your case and see that you are protected."

"How kind you are—you are the only friend I ever knew," cried the boy, bursting into tears of gratitude.

Ralph took Earl Danvers home with him when they reached Stanley Junction. His kind-hearted mother was at once interested in the forlorn refugee. They managed to fit him out with some comfortable clothing, and Ralph told him to take a rest of a few days, when he would have him see their lawyer and tell him his story.

Two days later the young fireman reported at the roundhouse for duty, and the ensuing morning started on a new term of service as fireman of the Limited Mail.

The first trip out Griscom was engineer. Ralph noticed that he looked pale and worried. The run to the city was made in a way quite unusual with the brisk and lively veteran railroader. Ralph waited until they were on their way home from the roundhouse that evening. Then he said:

"Mr. Griscom, you have not been your usual self to-day."

"That's true, lad," nodded the engineer gravely.

"Anything the matter especially?"

"Oh, a little extra care on my mind and under the weather a bit besides," sighed Griscom.

"Can I help you in any way?" inquired Ralph.

"No, lad—we must all bear our own troubles."

The next day Griscom did not report for duty at train time. A man named Lyle was put on extra duty. Ralph did not know him very well nor did he like him much. He understood that he was a fine engineer but that he had been warned several times for drinking.

As he came into the cab, Ralph noticed that his eyes were dull and shifty, his hands trembled and he bore all the appearance of a man who had been recently indulging in liquor to excess.

As soon as they were out on the road, Lyle began to drink frequently from a bottle he took out of his coat. He became more steady in his movements, and, watching him, Ralph saw that he understood his business thoroughly and was duly attentive to it.

After the wait at the city, however, Lyle came aboard of the locomotive in quite a muddled condition. He was talkative and boastful now. He began to tell of the many famous special runs he had made, of the big salaries he had earned, and of his general proficiency as a first-class engineer.

He ordered full steam on, and by the time they were twenty miles from the city he kept the locomotive going at top notch speed. There was a tremendous head on the cylinders and they ran like a racer. Frogs and target rods were passed at a momentum that fairly frightened Ralph, and it was a wonder to him the way the wheels ground and bounded that they always lit on the steel.

Lyle took frequent drinks from the bottle, which had been replenished. His eyes were wild, his manner reckless, almost maniacal. As they passed signals he would utter a fierce, ringing yell. Ralph crowded over to him.

"Mr. Lyle," he shouted, "we are ahead of time."

"Good," roared the mad engineer, "I'm going to make the record run of the century."

"If any other train is off schedule, that is dangerous."

"Let 'em look out for themselves," chuckled Lyle. "Whoop! pile in the black diamonds."

"Stop!" almost shrieked Ralph.

Of a sudden he made a fearful discovery. A signal had called for a danger stop where the Great Northern crossed the tracks of the Midland Central. Unheeding the signal, Lyle had run directly onto a siding of the latter railroad and was traversing it at full speed.

"Stop, stop, I say—there's a car ahead," cried Ralph.

Lyle gave the young fireman a violent push backwards and forged ahead.

Chug! bang! A frightful sound filled the air. The locomotive had struck a light gondola car squarely, lifting it from the track and throwing it to one side a mass of wreckage. Then on, on sped the engine. It struck the main of the Midland Central.

Ralph grabbed up a shovel.

"Lower speed," he cried, "or I will strike you."

"Get back," yelled Lyle, pulling a revolver from his pocket. "Back, I say, or I'll shoot. Whoop! this is going."

Ralph climbed to the top of the tender. He was powerless alone to combat the engineer in his mad fury. A plan came into his mind. The first car attached to the tender was a blind baggage. Ralph sprang to its roof. Then he ran back fast as he could.

The young fireman lost no time, dropping from the roof between platforms. As he reached the first passenger coach he ran inside the car.

Passengers were on their feet, amazed and alarmed at the reckless flight of the train. The conductor and train hands were pale and frightened.

"What's the trouble?" demanded the conductor, as Ralph rushed up to him.

"A maniac is in charge of the train. He is crazed with drink, and armed. Who of you will join me in trying to overpower him?"

None of the train hands shrank from duty. They followed Ralph to the platform and thence to the top of the forward coach. At that moment new warnings came.



CHAPTER XXVII

A NEW MYSTERY

"Danger," shouted Ralph. "Quick, men. Do you see ahead there?"

Down the rails a red signal fuse was spluttering. It was quite a distance away, but they would reach it in less than sixty seconds if the present fearful speed of the train was kept up.

"Hear that?" roared the conductor in a hoarse, frightened tone.

Under the wheels there rang out a sharp crack, audible even above the roar of the rushing train—a track torpedo.

Ralph ran across the top of the forward car. As he reached its front end, Lyle turning discovered him.

He set up a wild yell, reached into the tender, seized a big sledgehammer lying there and braced back.

The young fireman was amazed and fairly terrified at his movements, for Lyle began raining blows on lever, throttle and everything in the way of machinery inside of the cab.

Past the red light, blotting it out, sped the train, turning a curve. Ralph anticipated a waiting or a coming train, but, to his relief, the rails were clear. Ahead, however, there was a great glow, and he now understood what the warnings meant.

The road at this point for two miles ran through a marshy forest, and this was all on fire. Ralph gained the tender.

"Back, back!" roared Lyle, facing him, weapon in hand. "She's fixed to go, can't stop her now. Whoop!"

With deep concern the young fireman noted the disabled machinery.

Half-way between centers, the big steel bar on the engineer's side of the locomotive had snapped in two and was tearing through the cab like a flail, at every revolution of the driver to which it was attached.

Just as Ralph jumped down from the tender, the locomotive entered the fire belt—in a minute more the train was in the midst of a great sweeping mass of fire. The train crew, blinded and singed, retreated. Ralph trembled at a sense of the terrible peril that menaced.

Lyle had drawn back from the lever or he would have been annihilated. Then as the fire swept into his face, he uttered a last frightful yell, gave a spring and landed somewhere along the side of the track.

The young fireman was fairly appalled. Such a situation he had never confronted before. The cab was ablaze in a dozen different places. The tops of the cars behind had also ignited. Ralph did not know what to do. Even if he could have stopped the train, it would be destruction to do so now.

Suddenly the locomotive dove through the last fire stretch. Ahead somewhere Ralph caught the fierce blast of a locomotive shrieking for orders. For life or death the train must be stopped.

He flew towards the throttle but could not reach it safely. The great bar threatened death. Twice he tried to reach the throttle and drew back in time to escape the descending bar. At a third effort he managed to slip the latch of the throttle, but received a fearful graze of one hand. Then, exhausted from exertion and excitement, the young fireman saw the locomotive slow down not a hundred yards from a stalled train.

The passenger coaches were soon vacated by the passengers, while the train crew beat out the flames where the cars were on fire.

The Limited Mail made no return trip to Stanley Junction that night. The following morning, however, when the swamp fire had subsided, the train was taken back to the Great Northern and then to terminus.

Lyle, the engineer, was found badly burned and delirious in the swamp, where he would have perished only for the water in which he landed when he jumped from the locomotive cab. He was taken to a hospital.

There was a great deal of talk about the latest exploit of the young fireman of the Limited Mail, and Ralph did not suffer any in the estimation of the railroad people and his many friends.

One evening he came home from an interview with a local lawyer concerning the interests of his young friend, Earl Danvers.

Ralph felt quite sanguine that he could obtain redress for Earl from his heartless relations, and was thinking about it when he discovered his mother pacing up and down the front walk of the house in an agitated, anxious way.

"Why, mother," said Ralph, "you look very much distressed."

"I am so, truly," replied Mrs. Fairbanks. "Ralph, we have met with a great loss."

"What do you mean, mother?"

"The house has been burglarized."

"When?"

"Some time during the past three hours. I was on a visit to a sick neighbor, and returned to discover the rear door open. I went inside, and all the papers in the cabinet and some money we had there were gone."

"The papers?" exclaimed Ralph.

"Yes, every document concerning our claim against Gasper Farrington is missing."

"But what of Earl Danvers?" inquired Ralph. "Was he away from home?"

"He was when I left, but he must have returned during my absence."

"How do you know that?" asked Ralph.

"The cap he wore when he went away I found near the cabinet."

Ralph looked serious and troubled.

"I hope we have not been mistaken in believing Earl to be an honest boy," he said, and his mother only sighed.

Then Ralph began investigating. The rear door, he found, had been forced open. All the rooms and closets had been ransacked.

"This is pretty serious, mother," he remarked.

Earl Danvers did not return that day. This troubled and puzzled Ralph. He could not believe the boy to be an accomplice of Farrington, nor could he believe that he was the thief.

Next morning Ralph reported the loss to the town marshal. When he went down the road, he threw off a note where the men were working on the Short Line Route at its junction with the Great Northern. It was directed to Zeph Dallas, and in the note Ralph asked his friend to look up the two uncles of Earl Danvers and learn all he could about the latter.

It was two nights later when Mrs. Fairbanks announced to Ralph quite an important discovery. In cleaning house she had noticed some words penciled on the wall near the cabinet. They comprised a mere scrawl, as if written under difficulty, and ran:

"Earl prisoner. Two boys stealing things in house. Get the old coat I wore."

"Why, what can this mean?" said Ralph. "Earl certainly wrote this. A prisoner? two boys? the thieves? Get the old coat? He means the one he wore when he came here. What can that have to do with this business? Mother, where is the coat?"

"Why, Ralph," replied Mrs. Fairbanks, "I sold it to a rag man last week."



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE FREIGHT THIEVES

Two days later Zeph Dallas came to Stanley Junction to purchase some supplies for Mr. Gibson's construction camp. In the evening he called at the Fairbanks home. The farmer boy had located the relatives of Earl Danvers, and his report verified the story of the latter, who had disappeared from home, and, according to his uncles, his whereabouts was unknown to them.

Ralph related the story of the burglary, and Zeph was at once interested. He believed that some mystery of importance was attached to the old coat. When he had gone away Ralph got to thinking this over.

"Mother," he asked, "do you know the man to whom you sold that old coat?"

"Why, yes," replied Mrs. Fairbanks. "He is the man who goes around with an old wagon visiting the different country towns in this district in turn."

Ralph made some inquiries, and ascertained that the peddler in question made his headquarters at Dover. He resolved upon opportunity to visit the man at a near date, although it was probable that the coat with the rags sold with it had been sent to some mill. A few days later Zeph came again to Stanley Junction and Ralph told him about the peddler.

For a time after this, affairs ran on smoothly for the Limited Mail and her experienced crew, and Ralph had settled down to a quiet enjoyment of congenial employment when there occurred a break in the routine that once more placed him in a position of peril.

One day as he returned from the city run, the roundhouse foreman informed him that he was to report at the office of the master mechanic. Ralph did not go home, but went at once to answer the summons.

The master mechanic was his good friend and received him with his usual cordiality.

"Fairbanks," he said, "you are pretty well known to the officers of the road, and favorably, too, I suppose you know that."

"It is a pleasure to have you say so," answered the young fireman.

"They seem especially to value your ability in running down crookedness and ferreting out criminals," pursued the master mechanic. "The superintendent wired me today to have one road detective start out on a certain case. I wired back that Mr. Adair was engaged in a special case in the city. The return was to relieve you of regular duty and have you report at Afton this afternoon."

Ralph nodded to indicate that he understood, but he said:

"I do not like these interruptions to routine duty, but I suppose the company knows where it most needs a fellow."

Ralph went down the road shortly after noon. He reached Afton and reported at once to the assistant superintendent.

"I have ordered a substitute fireman on the Mail for a week, Fairbanks," said that official. "I think we shall engage your services for that length of time."

"Is it some particular case, sir?" asked Ralph.

"A very important case, yes. We seem to have got rid of incompetent employes and strikers, thanks to you and others who stood by the company in time of trouble. There is one thing, however, that is bothering us. It bothers every road more or less, but we won't have it."

Ralph waited for a further explanation.

"Freight thieves, Fairbanks," continued the official. "Some gang is regularly stealing from the road. When, where and how it is done we have been unable to ascertain. A train will leave the city or the Junction, arrive at terminus, and some valuable package will be missing. The car seals will be all right, no one seems to have entered the car, and yet the pilfering goes on. Will you help us run down the thieves?"

"I will try," answered Ralph. "What trains seem to suffer most?"

"Always the night freights," replied the assistant superintendent. "Now, take your time, spare no expense, and go to work on this problem in your usual effective way."

Ralph devoted the remainder of the day to going up and down the road and familiarizing himself with the various freight trains and their schedules.

Just after dark he clambered into the cab of the night freight leaving the city. It was a dark, sleety night, for cold weather had just set in.

The engineer was a tried and trusty veteran in the service. Ralph felt that he understood him, and that he must trust him to a degree in order to facilitate his own programme. He waited till the fireman was busy outside on the engine, then he spoke to the old engineer.

"Mr. Barton, I am on special duty here tonight."

"That so, lad?" inquired the engineer.

"Yes, I suppose you know there is a good deal of missing freight in these night runs."

"I heard so," answered Barton, "but you see that is the business of the conductor, so I haven't much troubled myself about it."

"Still, you don't care to have these things occur in your runs."

"Should say not! Working on the case, Fairbanks?"

"Frankly, yes, Mr. Barton, and I want you to keep it quiet, but assist me when you can. I will be all over the train and the car tops to-night, and wanted to explain why to you."

"That's all right, lad. Just call on me if I can help you. Hello, you, Woods!" bawled the engineer suddenly to a fellow who appeared near the cab side, "what you doing there?"

The man slunk out of view at being addressed, with a muttered remark that it was his own business.

"Don't like that fellow—caboose look-out," explained Barton.

"I hope he did not overhear our conversation," spoke Ralph.

About mid-way of the train there was a gondola oil car. It had an elevated runway so that train hands could pass over it readily. Ralph selected this car as a vantage point, and got aboard as the train started on its way for Stanley Junction.

He was dressed as a tramp, looked the character completely, and the false moustache he wore effectually changed his face so that no persons except familiar friends would easily recognize him.

Ralph got down at one side of the big oil tank. For the next hour he remained quiet. Finally, as a brakeman passed over the platform, he climbed up and kept track of his movements.

The man, however, simply passed up and down the train and then returned to the caboose. Then there was a stop. Ralph leaned from the car and looked up and down the train.

"Why," exclaimed Ralph suddenly, "there is that fellow Woods working at the doors of the cars a little ahead there."

The brakeman in question now came down the length of the train. The engine was taking water. He halted almost opposite the car Ralph was hiding on. Suddenly he uttered a low, sharp whistle, and it was answered. Three men appeared from the side of the track, spoke to him, bounded up on to the oil car, and crouched down so near to Ralph that he could almost touch them.

Woods stood on the next track with his lantern as if waiting for the train to start up.

"Cars marked," he spoke. "I'll flash the glim when the coast is clear. You'll know the cases I told you about."

There was no response. The locomotive whistled, and the brakeman ran back to the caboose. Ralph lay perfectly still. The three men sat up against the railing of the car.

"Got the keys to the car ventilators?" asked one of the men, finally.

"Sure," was the response. "Say, fellows, we want to be wary. This is a clever game of ours, but I hear that the railroad company is watching out pretty close."

"Oh, they can't reach us," declared another voice, "with Woods taking care of the broken seals, and all kinds of duplicate keys, we can puzzle them right along."

Just then one of them arose to his feet. He stumbled heavily over Ralph.

"Hello!" he yelled, "who is this?"



CHAPTER XXIX

A PRISONER

The three men almost instantly confronted Ralph, and one of them seized him, holding him firmly.

Ralph quickly decided on his course of action. He yawned in the face of the speaker and drawled sleepily:

"What are you waking a fellow up for?"

One held Ralph, another lit a match. They were rough, but shrewd fellows. Instantly one of them said:

"Disguised!" and he pulled off Ralph's false moustache. "That means a spy. Fellows, how can we tell Woods?"

"S—sh!" warned a companion—"no names. Now, young fellow, who are you?"

But "young fellow" was gone! In a flash Ralph comprehended that he was in a bad fix, his usefulness on the scene gone. In a twinkling he had jerked free from the grasp of the man who held him, had sprung to the platform of the oil car and thence to the roof of the next box car.

Almost immediately his recent captor was after him. It was now for Ralph a race to the engine and his friend Barton.

The running boards were covered with sleet and as slippery as glass, yet Ralph forged ahead. He could hear the short gasps for breath of a determined pursuer directly behind him.

"Got you!" said a quick voice. Its owner stumbled, his head struck the young fireman and Ralph was driven from the running board.

He was going at such a momentum that in no way could he check himself, but slid diagonally across the roof of the car. There destruction seemed to face him.

His pursuer had fallen flat on the running board. Ralph dropped flat also, clutching vainly at space. His fingers tore along the thin sheeting of ice. He reached the edge of the car roof.

For one moment the young fireman clung there. Then quick as a flash he slipped one hand down. It was to hook his fingers into the top slide bar of the car's side door. The action drew back the door about an inch. It was unlocked. Ralph dropped his other hold lightning-quick, thrust his hand into the interstice, pushed the door still further back, and precipitated himself forward across the floor of an empty box car.

There he lay, done up, almost terrified at the crowding perils of the instant, marveling at his wonderful escape from death.

"They must think I went clear to the ground," theorized Ralph. "I am safe for the present, at least. What an adventure! And Woods is in league with the freight thieves! That solves the problem for the railroad company.

"An empty car," he said, as he finally struggled to his feet. "I'll wait till the train stops again and then run ahead to Barton. Hello!" he exclaimed sharply, as moving about the car, his foot came in contact with some object.

Ralph stood perfectly still. He could hear deep, regular breathing, as of some one asleep. His curiosity impelled him to investigate farther. He took a match from his pocket, flared it, and peered down.

Directly in one corner of the car lay a big, powerful man. He was dressed in rags. His coat was open, and under it showed a striped shirt.

"Why!" exclaimed Ralph, "a convict—an escaped convict!"

The man grasped in one hand, as if on guard with a weapon of defense, a pair of handcuffs connected with a long, heavy steel chain. Apparently he had in some way freed himself from these.

Ralph flared a second match to make a still closer inspection of the man. This aroused the sleeper. He moved, opened his eyes suddenly, saw Ralph, and with a frightful yell sprang up.

"I've got you!" he said, seizing Ralph. "After me, are you? Hold still, or I'll throttle you. How near are the people who sent you on my trail?"

"I won't risk that," shouted the man wildly.

In a twinkling he had slipped the handcuffs over Ralph's wrists. The latter was a prisoner so strangely that he was more curious than alarmed.

"Going to stop, are they?" pursued the man, as there was some whistling ahead. "Mind you, now, get off when I do. Don't try to call, and don't try to run away, or I'll kill you."

The train stopped and Ralph's companion pulled back the door. He got out, forcing Ralph with him, and proceeded directly into the timber lining the railroad, never pausing till he had reached a desolate spot near a shallow creek.

Then the man ordered a halt. He sat down on the ground and forced his captive to follow his example.

"Who are you?" he demanded roughly.

"I am Ralph Fairbanks, a fireman on the Great Northern Railroad," promptly explained the young fireman.

"Do you know me?"

"I infer from these handcuffs and your under uniform that you are an escaped convict," answered Ralph.

"Know a good many people, do you?"

"Why, yes, I do," answered Ralph.

"Where is Stanley Junction?"

"About forty miles north of here. I live there."

"You do? you do?" cried the convict, springing up in a state of intense excitement. "Here, lad, don't think me harsh or mean, or cruel, but you have got to stay with me. You would betray me to the police."

"No, I would not," declared Ralph.

"You would, I know—it's human nature. There is a big reward out for me. Then, too, you know people. Yes, you must stay with me."

"I can't help you any—why should you detain me?" insisted Ralph.

"I must find a man," cried the convict, more wildly than ever—"or you must find him for me."

"What man is that?" spoke Ralph.

"Do you know a Mr. Gasper Farrington?"

"Quite well," answered Ralph, rather startled at the question.

"That is the man!" shouted the convict.

"And that is singular, for I am very anxious myself to find that same individual," said the young fireman.

Ralph felt that he was in the midst of a series of strange adventures and discoveries that might lead to important results, not only for the person he had so strangely met, but for himself, as well.

This impression was enforced as he watched his captor pace up and down the ground, muttering wildly. He seemed to have some deep-rooted hatred for Gasper Farrington. "Revenge," "Punishment," "Justice," were the words that he constantly uttered. Ralph wondered what course he could pursue to get the man down to a level of coherency and reason. Finally the man said:

"Come, get up, we must find some shelter."

After an hour of arduous tramping they came to an old barn that had been partly burned down. There was some hay in it. The convict lay down on this, unloosed one handcuff from the wrist of his prisoner, and attached the other to his own arm and lay as if in a daze until daybreak.

Now he could inspect his prisoner clearly, and Ralph could study the worn, frenzied face of his captor. The latter had calmed down somewhat.

"Boy," he said, finally, "I don't dare to let you go, and I don't know what to do."

"See here," spoke Ralph, "you are in deep trouble. I don't want to make you any more trouble. Suppose you tell me all about yourself and see if I can't help you out."

"Oh, I don't dare to trust any one," groaned the man.

"You spoke of Gasper Farrington," suggested Ralph. "Is he an enemy of yours?"

"He has ruined my life," declared the convict.

"And why do you seek him?"

"To demand reparation, to drag him to the same fate he drove me to. Just let me find him—that is all I wish—to meet him face to face."

Ralph began to quietly tell the story of his own dealings with the village magnate of Stanley Junction. It had a great effect upon his auditor. From dark distrust and suspicion his emotions gradually subsided to interest, and finally to confidence.

It was only by gradations that Ralph led the man to believe that he was his friend and could help him in his difficulties.

The convict told a pitiful story. Ralph believed it to be a true one. To further his own avaricious ends, Farrington had devised a villainous plot to send the man to the penitentiary. He had escaped. He had documents that would cause Farrington not only to disgorge his ill-gotten gains, but would send him to jail.

"I want to get to where those documents are hidden," said the convict. "Then to find Farrington, and I shall right your wrongs as well as my own."

Ralph reflected deeply over the matter in hand. He resolved on a course of proceedings and submitted it to his companion.

He offered to take the convict to the isolated home of Amos Greenleaf, where he could remain safely in retirement. Ralph promised to get him comfortable garments and provide for his board and lodging. In a few days he would see him again and help him to find Farrington.

The young fireman was now released from the handcuffs. He calculated the location of the place where Greenleaf lived.

"It is about fifteen miles to the spot I told you of," he explained to the convict.

"Can we reach it without being seen by any one?" anxiously inquired his companion.

"Yes, I can take a route where we need not pass a single habitation."

It was afternoon when they reached the home of old Amos Greenleaf.

Ralph experienced no difficulty in arranging that the convict remain there for a few days. He gave Greenleaf some money, and, promising to see the convict very soon, proceeded to Wilmer.

The young fireman took the first train for Afton, and reported what had occurred to the assistant superintendent.

Two days later Woods and his companions were in jail, and a great part of the stolen freight plunder was recovered.

Woods confessed that he had duplicated keys and seals for the doors and ventilators of the freight cars, and the bold thieveries along the Great Northern now ceased.

Ralph obtained leave of absence for a week. He decided that it was worth while to try and find Gasper Farrington. He went to the city, got certain papers belonging to the magnate from Mr. Grant, and went to Wilmer.

He was soon at the junction of the Springfield & Dover Short Cut Railroad and the Great Northern. That terminus was completed. A neat depot had been erected, and on the tracks of the new railroad there stood a handsome locomotive.

"Oh, Ralph!" cried Zeph Dallas, rushing forward to greet his friend, as the young fireman appeared. "Great news!"



CHAPTER XXX

THE LOST DIAMONDS

"Great news, eh?" said Ralph.

"You will say so when you hear what I have got to tell you," declared Zeph Dallas. "Say, I am going straight to headquarters. Come with me. The news will keep till we get there."

"All right," assented Ralph. "There is enough going on around here to keep a fellow interested."

"The new railroad?" spoke Zeph brightly. "I should say so. Isn't it just famous? I tell you, some hustling work has been done here in the past few weeks."

Ralph was amazed and delighted at the progress made by the Short Line Railway. As said, a new locomotive was on the rails at the terminus, and a little depot had been built. Workmen were busy as far down the line as he could see. In fact, everything indicated that the road would soon be in full operation.

"The tracks are laid both ways from headquarters, except for a little distance on the Springfield side," said Zeph. "We expect passenger and freight cars for the road to-day, and on Monday we open the line."

"And in what capacity will you appear on that grand occasion, Zeph?" inquired the young fireman pleasantly.

"Conductor!" exploded the farmer boy, drawing himself up proudly. "See here;" he drew back his coat and revealed the biggest and most elaborate "Conductor" badge manufactured. "We expect that Earl Danvers will become our brakeman."

"Who?" cried Ralph with a start.

"Earl Danvers."

"Is he here?"

"He is at headquarters," said Zeph. "Don't bother asking me about him now. You will soon see him, and he will tell you his own story. Then, too, Mr. Gibson wishes to see you particularly. Here's our hand-car, jump aboard. We'll spin along at a fine rate, I tell you, for the roadbed is splendid."

Ralph found it so. It was a most interesting journey to headquarters. There was only one track, and on this the men had spent their energies to great advantage, and commendable results followed.

He was warmly welcomed by his friends, particularly so by Earl Danvers. Just as soon as mutual greetings were over Ralph took Earl to a pile of ties a little distance away.

"Now then, young man," he said, "seeing we are alone, suppose you give an account of yourself."

Earl Danvers was thin and pale. He looked as if he had gone through some recent severe hardships, but he smiled serenely as he said:

"It's easy to tell my story, now I am out of my troubles, but I tell you, Ralph, I have had a hard time of it."

"With Slump and Bemis?"

"Yes. The afternoon I left Stanley Junction, they were the fellows who forced me to go away with them. They broke into your house, and I found them ransacking it. They pitched on to me, and tied me up. Then they recognized me."

"What, had you known them before?" exclaimed Ralph, in some surprise.

"I found out that I had. You remember the first day that you saw me?"

"Yes," nodded Ralph.

"Well, I had run away from my uncles that morning. I had made up a package hurriedly, containing shoes, coat and cap, and got away through a window in the attic. I went about five miles, when I ran right into two fellows in the woods. They were Slump and Bemis. They got mad at my stumbling over them, took away my parcel and began to belabor me. I had to run to keep from being terribly beaten. Then I sneaked around, hoping to recover my parcel. They had gone in swimming. My parcel had disappeared. I had to have a coat. I grabbed one and ran away with it. They yelled after me, but I outdistanced them. Then later I ran across my uncles looking for me. The rest you know."

"And what about the coat?"

"Well," related Earl, "when those fellows broke into your house, they inquired about that coat. I at once saw that they had a great interest in it. I told them I didn't know where it was. They insisted that I did. They ransacked the house from top to bottom. They took me away from town to a miserable hut where they were staying. Until yesterday I was a prisoner there, tied up, half-starved, and every day Slump would come and demand to know if I was going to tell him what had become of that coat. From the first I knew that coat was what they were after when they burglarized your house, and wrote what words I could on the wall of your sitting room."

"Yes," said Ralph, "we found your message there. Did you learn what their especial interest was in the coat?"

"Yes, I overheard some of their conversation a few days ago," replied Earl. "That coat contained some diamonds they found in an old box car."

"What!" cried Ralph. "Is it possible?"

"It seems so. I escaped yesterday. You had told me about this place, and so I came here. Zeph Dallas was my friend at once, when I told him my story. Here he is now."

Zeph approached with a beaming face.

"Fairbanks," he said, "I suppose Danvers has told you how he came here, and his troubles with Slump and Bemis."

"Yes," nodded Ralph.

"Well, I went to Dover yesterday and saw the old rag man. He ransacked his stock and we found the coat."

"You did?" spoke Ralph, expectantly.

"Yes, and in an inside pocket were the diamonds. Here they are."

Zeph handed Ralph a moldy chamois skin bag. With interest the young fireman inspected the contents.

"This is a rich find, Zeph," he said. "You must report to the car finder at once."

"I am going to the city to-day to see him," explained the former farmer boy.

Zeph left headquarters about noon. The next morning he reappeared. He was fairly gorgeous attired in the uniform of a conductor.

"One thousand dollars I get as a special reward for the recovery of the diamonds," he said, "and more when the car finder has seen their original owner. I am to divide with you, Fairbanks."

"Not at all," dissented Ralph.

"Oh, yes, I shall," insisted Zeph. "And, by the way, I have some news of importance for you."

"Indeed?" said Ralph.

"Yes. You know where Trafton is?"

"On the Midland Central."

"Exactly. Well, this morning on the platform there, I saw a man in whom you are considerably interested."

"Who was that?" inquired the young fireman.

"Bartlett, the fellow who was a partner of Gasper Farrington in that wire-tapping scheme."



CHAPTER XXXI

JUSTICE AT LAST—CONCLUSION

Ralph lost no time in making up his mind to at once go to Trafton and endeavor to run down Bartlett. He was the friend and confidant of Gasper Farrington, and the latter the young fireman was now determined to find.

He had his troubles for his pains. He got a trace of Bartlett at Trafton, but lost it again. His final clew was that Bartlett had last been seen driving away from town in a covered wagon.

Ralph devoted the morning to these discoveries, then he made for the home of Amos Greenleaf. He cut across the timber for ten miles, and late in the afternoon reached the miserable hovel where the crippled railroader lived.

It was when he was within a few rods of the place that a voice hailed him.

"This way, Mr. Fairbanks, I have something to tell you."

Ralph went to a copse near at hand where the speaker stood, as if in hiding. It was the escaped convict. He was deeply excited.

"I wanted to prepare you for a surprise before you went into the house," said the convict.

"Why, what do you mean?" asked Ralph.

"I mean Farrington!" cried the convict. "He is there."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Ralph.

"No, it is true."

"How did he happen to come here?"

"A man driving a covered wagon brought him. Farrington was sick, dying. The other man carried him into the house and said he would hurry for a doctor."

"When was this?" asked Ralph.

"Two hours ago. I have not shown myself to Farrington yet. The man is certainly in a dying condition."

"I had better investigate affairs," said Ralph, and he proceeded to the house.

Gasper Farrington lay on a wretched cot in a little bedroom. Ralph was amazed at the change in the magnate since he had last seen him. Farrington was thin, pale and weak. He was gasping painfully for breath, and groaned wretchedly as he recognized his visitor.

"Why, Mr. Farrington," said Ralph, "you are a very sick man."

"I am dying, Ralph Fairbanks," moaned the stricken Farrington. "You have your revenge."

"I wish for no revenge—I truly am sorry to see you in this condition."

"Well, here I am," groaned Farrington—"a miserable wreck, dying in a wretched hovel, the end of all my plotting, and worst of all, robbed of everything I own."

"By whom?" asked Ralph.

"By Bartlett, who has abandoned me. I know it, and only this morning he got from me the deeds conveying all my property to him. Once recorded, I am a beggar, and can make no reparation to those whom I have defrauded."

"Is that true?" asked Ralph.

"Yes. He pretended he would drive to Wilmer, record the deeds at Stanley Junction, return and take me safely out of the country. Instead, he has isolated me in this desolate place. Oh, to outwit him, Fairbanks!" continued the magnate eagerly. "I can yet defeat him if you can assist me."

"How?"

"Under the bed is my box of private papers. Unknown to Bartlett, last week, suspecting his scheme to rob me, believing I was dying, I executed deeds that distributed my property among those whom I had wronged. One deed is for your mother to adjust that twenty thousand dollar claim. Another is for a poor fellow I sent to jail—an innocent man. Another places my property in trust with your lawyer. Here they are," and Farrington took some documents from the box that Ralph had handed him. "Now then, act quickly."

Ralph looked over the papers. They were what the magnate described. He went outside and saw the convict, showing him the deed containing the name of "John Vance."

"Is that your name?" asked Ralph.

"It is," assented the convict.

"Then Farrington has done you tardy justice," and he explained the situation.

In a few minutes the young fireman was bounding away towards Wilmer.

Ralph caught a train just as it was moving away from the depot. He did not venture inside the cars, for he saw that Bartlett was aboard, but at the next station proceeded to the locomotive.

When the train reached the limits at Stanley Junction, Ralph left it and boarded an engine on another track bound for the depot.

He reached it some minutes in advance of the other locomotive. A hurried run for the office of the recorder, a swift delivery of the deeds, and then Ralph hastened after the town marshal.

They came upon Bartlett leaving the office of the recorder with a glum and puzzled face. In his hand in a listless way he held some deeds which he had evidently been told were worthless.

The man was disguised, but Ralph knew him at once. The marshal stepped forward and seized his arm.

"Mr. Bartlett," he said sternly, "you are under arrest."

"Oh, you want me? What—er—for?" stammered the plotter.

"Conspiracy in the recent railroad strike," explained the official. "Pretty serious, too—not to mention that so-called accident you had on one of the cars, for which you wanted damages."

With a scowl on his face Bartlett turned and confronted Ralph.

"Ah, so it's you?" he growled.

"Yes," returned the young fireman, coldly.

"This is some of your work!"

"If so, it is at the request of the man you robbed, Bartlett."

"Eh?"

"I mean Gasper Farrington," answered Ralph, and this news caused the prisoner to turn pale and stagger back. He realized that he had come to the end of his plotting and must now suffer the consequences of his misdeeds. He was marched off to jail, and it may be as well to state, was, later on, sent to prison for a term of years.

Gasper Farrington did not linger long. Before he died, however, he had a talk with Ralph and with the convict, and signed several papers of importance. He acknowledged all his wrong doings, and did all in his power to straighten matters out. His relatives came to his aid, and his last hours on earth were made as comfortable as circumstances permitted.

Two days after Farrington's funeral came a surprise for Ralph. He received word that Ike Slump and Mort Bemis had been caught in a tavern near Dover. Both of the roughs were in rags and penniless, having lost what money they had had. Both were turned over to the police, and in due course of time each followed Bartlett to prison.

"It serves them right," said Griscom, to Ralph. "My! my! What a difference in boys! Do you remember when you and Slump were both wipers at the roundhouse?"

"I do indeed!" answered Ralph feelingly. "I am sorry for Ike. But he has no one to blame but himself."

"A holiday for us day after to-morrow, lad," went on the veteran engineer of the Limited Mail, with a twinkle in his eye. "Guess you know why."

"Opening of the other line?" queried the young fireman.

"Exactly. Special invitation for both of us," went on Griscom, with a chuckle.

"Well, I hope everything pans out right," said Ralph. "Our friends have worked hard enough, goodness knows."

The day for the opening of the new railroad came, and Ralph and the old engineer took the early morning train for Wilmer. Not a few friends accompanied them.

"It's a great day for Van and for Mr. Gibson," said Ralph. "And a great day for Zeph and Earl too," he added, with a smile. Earl's uncles had been hailed into court, and a new guardian had been appointed for the boy.

A little after noon that day the formal opening of the Springfield & Dover Railroad was celebrated.

Two beautiful passenger coaches were filled with friends of the road and persons living near Wilmer. The locomotive and cars were gaily decorated with bunting. Limpy Joe was bustling around his restaurant stand at the depot, happy and chipper. Zeph Dallas was the proud conductor, and Earl Danvers the brakeman of the train. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Fairbanks, Mr. Trevor and some of their friends formed a party by themselves. It was a regular gala occasion. The first trip was a grand success. People along the line greeted the train with glad cheers, and, returning to headquarters, a sumptuous repast was spread for the guests of the new road.

"Well, we are a happy family party," said Farwell Gibson with enthusiasm, as, that evening, his employes sat around the supper table at headquarters.

"Yes," nodded Trevor. "To-morrow actual work begins. We have splendid prospects, loyal employes, and the Springfield & Dover Short Line is a grand success."

"I cannot too deeply announce my feelings towards you, Fairbanks," said Mr. Gibson. "It is to your friendship and co-operation that I owe, in a measure, all my good fortune in completing the railroad."

"A grand lad," applauded old John Griscom heartily. "His pluck and perseverance have helped us all out of difficulties many a time."

"Three cheers for the boy who helped to build a railroad!" cried Zeph Dallas.

They were given with enthusiasm, and Ralph had to respond with a speech.

"I believe this is the happiest moment of my life," he declared. "I have been through some strenuous times, but all has ended well."

And then what a cheer went up!

Ralph imagined that now, since his enemies had been disposed of, quiet times were ahead. But this was not to be. Adventures in plenty still awaited him, and what some of them were will be related in another story, to be called "Ralph on the Overland Express; or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer."

"It was certainly a great day, mother," said the young fireman, when he got home from the celebration.

"Yes, Ralph," answered Mrs. Fairbanks. "And to think that you helped to make that day possible. Oh, I am proud of you!" And she gave him a fond caress.

"And the best of it is, that we have all those thousands of dollars," continued the young fireman. "We are not exactly rich, but we are comfortably situated, eh?"

"Yes, indeed, Ralph! But listen to me. Do you want to leave the railroad? You might go into business, or go to college, or——"

"No, no, mother! I was born to follow a railroad life—I feel it. Who knows, some day I may be the President of some road."

"That is true. Well, have your wish, Ralph. They tell me now you are the best fireman in these parts. Soon you'll have your engine then——"

"I'll be very happy!" finished Ralph.

And his eyes brightened as he thought of splendid opportunities the future promised.

THE END



THIS ISN'T ALL!

Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book?

Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?

On the reverse side of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.

DON'T THROW AWAY THE WRAPPER

Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog.



THE RAILROAD SERIES

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Radio Boys," Etc.

Uniform Style of Binding. Illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In this line of books there is revealed the whole workings of a great American railroad system. There are adventures in abundance—railroad wrecks, dashes through forest fires, the pursuit of a "wildcat" locomotive, the disappearance of a pay car with a large sum of money on board—but there is much more than this—the intense rivalry among railroads and railroad men, the working out of running schedules, the getting through "on time" in spite of all obstacles, and the manipulation of railroad securities by evil men who wish to rule or ruin.

RALPH OF THE ROUND HOUSE; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man.

RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER; Or, Clearing the Track.

RALPH ON THE ENGINE; Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail.

RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS; Or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer.

RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER; Or, The Mystery of the Pay Car.

RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN; Or, The Young Railroader's Most Daring Exploit.

RALPH ON THE MIDNIGHT FLYER; Or, The Wreck at Shadow Valley.

RALPH AND THE MISSING MAIL POUCH; Or, The Stolen Government Bonds.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

THE END