Ralph on the Engine: or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail

“Waste my time? waste my time?” repeated Zeph. “Huh, guess you don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m on the trail of a big fortune.”

“You don’t say so.”

“I do. Ralph Fairbanks, I’ll let you into the secret. You’ve been a good friend to me, and you shall help me.”

“What ridiculous nonsense are you talking, Zeph?”

“You’ll see whether it’s nonsense or not when some day I walk in on you with a fortune. Now, this is on the dead quiet, Fairbanks?”

“Oh, sure,” laughed Ralph.

“Very well. I met a fellow the other day, who is a car finder.”

“Mr. Drury, you mean?” asked Ralph.

“How did you know?” questioned Zeph in surprise.

“He told me he had met you, and agreed with me that you were a pretty fair kind of a fellow.”

“Did he?” said Zeph, very much pleased at the double compliment. “Well, I got interested in his business and he finally gave me a – a – well a job, you might call it.”

“Salary big, Zeph?”

“No salary at all,” responded Zeph. “It’s a partnership deal. If I find certain property, I am to have a big reward to divide with him.”

“What kind of property?”

“Diamonds.”

“Oh, going digging for them?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Fairbanks,” said Zeph in a slightly offended tone. “This is a fair and square business proposition. About five years ago a car was lost, presumably on the Great Northern. At least, it can be traced no farther than the terminus of the Midland Central, where it was switched onto this line here. There all trace of it was lost.”

“Valuable freight aboard?”

“No, on the contrary, it was empty, but, all the same, between sealed boards and the rough ones a pocketbook containing a lot of valuable diamonds was hidden.”

“Who by?”

“A traveling jewelry salesman named Isaacs.”

“What did he hide it there for?”

“He had to. You see, he was on another railroad line and crossing some tracks when some footpads assaulted him. He managed to escape and got into the empty car I told you about. Then he heard them coming to search for him, and hid the diamonds in a break of the boards at one side of the car.”

“I see.”

“They dragged him out, beat him into insensibility and stole all his money. He woke up in a hospital a month later, after a siege of fever. The first thing he thought of was the diamonds and the car. He had taken particular pains to note the number of the car.”

“What was it, may I ask?”

“Confidentially?”

“Of course.”

“It belonged to the Southern Air Line Road, and its number was 9176.”

“Why, you are telling a very interesting story,” declared Ralph, now really interested in the same. “He searched for the car, of course?”

“At once. He telegraphed everywhere; he advertised; he employed detectives. It was no use. During the month of his illness, car No. 9176 had disappeared.”

“That looks mysterious.”

“The car finder says not at all. Such things happen frequently. But it went somewhere, didn’t it? It may be lying on some old siding, in some creek after a wreck, stolen by gravel pit men, or in service still on some line. One thing is sure, if in existence still, it must be on one of four railroad lines, and the Great Northern is one of those roads.”

“What do you propose to do?” inquired Ralph.

“Go over every one of those lines carefully.”

“But Mr. Drury has done that already, has he not?”

“What of it? A first search doesn’t always bring results. He has given me full details as to the car, and, according to the records, it was lost on the Great Northern. In a day or two I am going to have a look at the transfer records at Dover. Then I am going to look up the trainmen who probably hauled the car. Oh, I have a theory and a plan. If I find the car I shall be almost rich.”

“Not a bad prospect, Zeph,” said Ralph, “but if I were you I would stick at regular work and make the search for that car a secondary matter.”

“You’ll remember it and help me out if you can?” asked Zeph.

“Surely I will,” and Ralph made a note of the number of the car in his memorandum book.

When the young fireman arose the next morning, he found Zeph seated on the front porch lounging back in an easy chair and his face all bandaged up. Mrs. Fairbanks stood near by, regarding her guest solicitously.

“Why, what is the matter, Zeph?” inquired Ralph in profound surprise.

“Whipped four men, that’s all,” answered Zeph with a smile that was almost ghastly, for his lips were all cut and swollen up, one eye disfigured and two teeth gone. “I went on my rounds this morning. I made sure to wake up the fellows on call, and one of them threatened to kill me if I ever came to his door again with that ‘fog-horn holler’ of mine, as he called it. The night watch-man said he’d arrest me for disturbing the peace. I didn’t mind that. Then I ran across four strikers. They wanted me to join them. I refused, and – that’s all, except that I’ll bet they are worse off than I am, if it was four to one.”

“Going to keep right on at your job?” inquired Ralph.

“Am I?” cried the undaunted Zeph. “Well, if anything would make me it would be this attack on me. Tell you, Fairbanks, hot times are coming. Forgan was on duty all night, and he told me this morning to advise you to be extra cautious in coming to work. The strikers are in an ugly mood, and they are going to make a bold break to smash up things to-day, they threaten.”

“Yes,” sighed Ralph, “affairs must come to a crisis sooner or later, I fear. Duty is plain, though. I shall stick to Griscom, and Griscom insists that he will stick to the road.”

Mrs. Fairbanks looked anxious and frightened. Turning to enter the house, the young fireman started violently and his mother and Zeph uttered exclamations of excitement.

A terrific explosion had rent the air. Its echoes rang out far and wide, and its source seemed to be the railroad depot.

“Oh, Ralph! what does that mean?” cried Mrs. Fairbanks.

“I fear,” said Ralph seriously, “the strikers are rioting and the trouble has begun.”