Ralph on the Overland Express: or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer. Chapman Allen
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didn’t take a two hundred mile run, or you wouldn’t be up for four,” challenged Ralph.
“Guess that’s so,” admitted Clark. “Well, here we are. I’ve been out prospecting.”
“What for?” inquired Ralph.
“A good restaurant.”
“Found one?”
“A dandy – wheat cakes with honey, prime country sausages and Mocha, all for twenty cents.”
“Good,” commended Ralph. “We’ll take air line for that right away.”
Clark chattered like a magpie as they proceeded to the street. It was evident that he had taken a great fancy to Ralph. The latter liked him in return. For the son of a wealthy railroad magnate, Clark was decidedly democratic. The one subject he seemed glad to avoid was any reference to his direct family and friends.
He was full of life, and Ralph found him very entertaining. Some bad breaks in grammar showed, indeed, that he had not amounted to much at school. Some of his adventures also suggested that the presence and power of money had not always been at his command. Ralph noticed some inconsistencies in his stories here and there, but Clark rattled on so fast and jumped so briskly from one subject to another, that it was hard work to check him up.
As they reached the porch of the house Clark gave Ralph a deterring touch with his hand.
“Just wait a minute, will you?” he spoke.
“Why what for?” inquired Ralph in some surprise.
“I want to find out something before we go out into the street,” and the speaker glided down the walk to the gate, peered down the street, and then beckoned to his companion.
“Come on,” he hailed. “They’re still there, though,” he added, his tones quite impressive.
“Who is there?” asked Ralph.
“Just dally at the gate here and take a look past the next street corner – near where there’s an alley, see?”
“That crowd of boys?” questioned Ralph, following his companion’s direction.
“Yes, that gang of hoodlums,” responded Clark bluntly, “for that is what they are.”
“And how are we interested in them?” inquired Ralph.
“We’re not, but they may become interested in us.”
“Indeed?”
“Mightily, if I don’t mistake my cue,” asserted Clark.
“You are pretty mysterious,” hinted Ralph, half-smiling.
“Well, I’ll explain. Those fellows are laying for you.”
“Laying for me?” repeated Ralph vaguely.
“That’s it.”
“Why? They don’t know me, and I don’t know them.”
“Not much acquainted at Bridgeport, eh?”
“Only casually. I’ve laid over here several times when I was firing on the fast freight. I know a few railroad men, that’s all.”
“Ever hear of Billy Bouncer?”
“I never did.”
“Then I’m the first one to enlighten you. When I went out to find a restaurant I passed that crowd you see. I noticed that they drew together and scanned me pretty closely. Then I heard one of them say, ‘That’s not Fairbanks.’ ‘Yes, it is, didn’t he come out of the place we’re watching?’ said another. ‘Aw, let up,’ spoke a third voice. ‘Billy Bouncer will know, and we don’t want to spoil his game. He’ll be here soon.’”
“That’s strange,” said Ralph musingly.
“What are you going to do about it?” inquired Clark.
“Oh, I’m not at all alarmed,” replied Ralph, “barely interested, that’s all. We’ll walk by the crowd and see if they won’t throw some further light on the subject.”
“Tell you, Fairbanks,” said Clark quite seriously, “I’m putting two and two together.”
“Well,” laughed Ralph, “that makes four – go ahead.”
“More than four – a regular mob. That crowd, as I said, for some reason is laying for you. What’s the answer? They have been put up to it by some one. You know, you told me incidentally that you had some enemies on account of the big boost you’ve got in the service. You said, too, that your friend, Engineer Griscom, warned you on just that point. I haven’t said much so far, but the actions of that grouch fireman of yours, Fogg, looked decidedly queer and suspicious to me.”
Ralph made no comment on this. He had his own ideas on the subject, but did not feel warranted in fully expressing them.
“I believe that Fogg started out on your run yesterday to queer it. Why he changed tactics later, I can’t tell. Maybe he was scared by the smash-up on the siding. Anyhow, I never saw such mortal malice in the face of any man as that I saw in his when I came aboard No. 999. This crowd down the street is evidently after you. Some one has put them up to it.”
“Oh, you can’t mean Fogg!” exclaimed Ralph.
“I don’t know,” replied Clark.
“I can’t believe that he would plot against me that far,” declared Ralph.
“A malicious enemy will do anything to reach his ends,” said Clark. “Doesn’t he want you knocked out? Doesn’t he want your place? What would suit his plans better than to have you so mauled and battered, that you couldn’t show up for the return trip to Stanley Junction this afternoon? Are you going past that crowd?”
“I certainly shall not show the white feather by going out of my way,” replied Ralph.
“Well, if that’s your disposition, I’m at your call if they tackle us,” announced Clark.
They proceeded down the street, and Ralph as they advanced had a good view of the crowd, which, according to the views of his companion, was laying in wait for him. There were about fifteen of them, ranging from selfish-faced lads of ten or so up to big, hulking fellows of twenty. They represented the average city gang of idlers and hoodlums. They were hanging around the entrance to the alley as if waiting for some mischief to turn up. Ralph noticed a rustling among them as he was observed. They grouped together. He fancied one or two of them pointed at him, but there was no further indication of belligerent attention as he and Clark approached nearer to the crowd.
“I fancy Billy Bouncer, whoever he is, hasn’t arrived yet,” observed Clark.
Just then one of the mob set up a shout.
“Hi there, Wheels!” he hailed, and some additional jeers went up from his fellows. Their attention seemed directed across the street, and Ralph and Clark glanced thither.
CHAPTER V
AT BAY
A queer-looking boy about eighteen years of age was proceeding slowly down the pavement. He was stockily built, and had an unusually massive head and great broad shoulders. He was a boy who would be remarked about almost anywhere. His hair was long, and this gave him a somewhat leonine aspect.
The hat of this boy was pushed far back on his head, and his eyes were fixed and his attention apparently deeply absorbed upon an object he held in his hand. This was a thin wooden rod with two cardboard wheels attached to it. These he would blow, causing them to revolve rapidly. Then he would study their gyrations critically, wait till they had run down, and then repeat the maneuver.
His side coat pockets were bulging, one with a lot of papers. From the other protruded what seemed to be a part of a toy, or some real mechanical device having also wheels in its construction.
“Well, there’s a queer make-up!” observed Clark in profound surprise.
“He is certainly eccentric in his appearance,” said