Ralph, The Train Dispatcher Part 3

"If I had time to spare I'd jump at your offer, Mr. Fry," he said. "As it is, what could I do with the proposition?"

"Do?" retorted the claim agent. "Hire some boys to gather in the bunch.

There may be five hundred chicks in the round up."

"Really, I couldn't bother with it, Mr. Fry," began Ralph, and then he turned abruptly.

Some one had pulled at his sleeve, and with a start the young engineer stared strangely at a boy about his own age.

CHAPTER III

TROUBLE BREWING

The strange boy appeared upon the scene so suddenly that Ralph decided he must have reached the roadbed from the other side of the embankment.

The young engineer faced him with a slight start. To his certain knowledge he had never seen the lad before. However, his face so strongly resembled that of some one he had met recently it puzzled Ralph. Whom did those features suggest? Ralph thought hard, but gave it up.

"Did you wish to see me?" he inquired.

The boy had a striking face. It was pale and thin, his clothes were neat but shabby. There was a sort of scared look in his eyes that appealed to Ralph, who was strongly sympathetic.

"I know you," spoke the boy in a hesitating, embarra.s.sed way. "You don't know me, but I've had you pointed out to me."

"That so?" and Ralph smiled.

"You are Ralph Fairbanks, the engineer of the Overland Express,"

continued the lad in a hushed tone, as if the distinction awed him.

"That's right," nodded Ralph.

"Well, I've heard of you, and you've been a friend to a good many people. I hope I'm not over bold, but if you would be a friend to me--"

Here the strange boy paused in a pitiful, longing way that appealed to Ralph.

"Go ahead," he said.

"I heard this gentleman," indicating Mr. Fry, "offer to sell the chickens down the embankment. I'm a poor boy, Mr. Fairbanks--dreadfully poor. There's reasons why I can't work in the towns like other boys. You can give me work, though--you can just set me on my feet."

"How can I do that?" inquired Ralph, getting interested.

"By buying me those chickens. I've got the place for them, I've got the time to attend to them, and I know just how to handle them. Why,"

continued the speaker excitedly, "there's nearly two hundred in prime trim gathered in a little thicket over yonder, and there's double that number among the wreckage, besides those that are hurt that I can nurse and mend up. If you will buy them for me, I'll solemnly promise to return you the money in a week and double the amount of interest in two."

"You talk clear and straight and earnest, my lad," here broke in the claim agent. "What's your name?"

"Glen Palmer."

"Do you live near here?"

"Yes, sir--in an old abandoned farmhouse, rent free, about a mile north of here."

"With your folks?"

"No, sir, I have no folks, only an old grandfather. He's past working, and, well, a--a little queer at times, and I have to keep close watch of him. That's what's the trouble."

The claim agent took out his note book.

"Look here," he spoke, "if Fairbanks will vouch for you, I'll tab off the chickens to you at fifteen dollars, due in thirty days."

"O--oh!" gasped the lad, clasping his hands in an ecstacy of hope and happiness. "I'll be sure to pay you-- Why, with what I know I can do with those chickens, I could pay you ten times over inside of a month."

"Mr. Fry," said Ralph, studying the boy's face for a moment or two, "I'll go security for my friend here."

"Say--excuse me, but say, Mr. Fairbanks, I--I--"

The boy broke down, tears chocking his utterance. He could only clasp and cling to Ralph's hand. The latter patted him on the shoulder with the encouraging words:

"You go ahead with your chicken farm, Glen, and if it needs more capital come to me."

"If you only knew what you've done for me--for me and my old grandfather!" faltered Glen Palmer, the deepest grat.i.tude and feeling manifested in tone and manner.

Ralph felt sure that the lad had a history. He did not, however, embarra.s.s him with any questioning. He liked the way that young Palmer talked and bustled about as soon as the word was given that his proposition was accepted. With an eager face he announced that he had a plan for getting the chickens to his home, and darted off at breakneck speed, waving his hand gratefully back at Ralph a dozen times.

Ralph and the claim agent reached the dummy to find Cohen hanging around it in great mental distress. Fry invited him to ride in the cab, and tormented him by talking about his bargain clear back to the roundhouse.

Then he relieved Cohen's distress, which bordered on positive distraction, by releasing him from his contract.

Mrs. Fairbanks greeted Ralph with her usual loving, kindly welcome when he reached home. The old family cottage was a veritable nest of comfort, and the young engineer enjoyed it to the utmost. There was always some special favorite dainty awaiting Ralph on his return from a trip, and he had a fine appetizing meal.

"We had a visitor today, Ralph," said Mrs. Fairbanks, as they sat chatting in the cozy sitting room a little later.

"Who was that, mother?"

Mrs. Fairbanks with a smile handed her son a card that had been lying on the mantle. Ralph smiled, too, as he looked it over.

"H'm," he said. "Quite dignified, 'Mr. Dallas,' our old friend Zeph, eh?

What's this mysterious monogram, cryptogram, or whatever it is, way down in the corner of the card?"

"It looks like two S's," suggested Mrs. Fairbanks.

"Oh, I can solve the enigma now," said Ralph with a broader smile than ever. "It is 'S. S.,' by which Zeph means and wants mystified others to half guess means 'Secret Service.' There's one thing about Zeph, with all his wild imaginings and ambition along the railroad line, he sticks to his idea of breaking in somewhere as an active young sleuth."

"We think a lot of Zeph, Ralph, and we mustn't forget that he did some bright things in helping that poor little orphan, Ernest Gregg, to health and happiness."

"Yes, Zeph deserves great credit for his patience and cleverness in that affair," admitted Ralph warmly, "only the line he is so fascinated with doesn't strike me as a regular business."

"How about Mr. Adair, Ralph?" insinuated his mother.