Ralph on the Engine/Chapter 24
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?"