When the one o'clock whistle sounded, Ralph started over for the engine
stalls.
"Hold on!" challenged the lame helper, suddenly appearing in his usual
extraordinary way.
"What's the trouble?" asked Ralph.
"Boss says you're on the sick list."
"But I'm not!" declared Ralph with a smile and mock-valiantly waving his
injured arm.
"Says you're to go home, and report in morning."
"But I can't do that," demurred Ralph.
"Must--orders."
"It would worry my mother, she would think something serious was wrong
with me, while I feel as well as I ever did in my life--yes, better,
even," insisted Ralph.
"Well, you're not to work, boss says--you can loaf, if you like."
"That's something I don't fancy."
"Then watch me, and I'll show you some things."
"Good!" assented Ralph. "If they are bound to have me invalided, at
least let me learn something in the meantime."
Limpy did not talk much, but after an hour of his company Ralph voted
him a wonder.
There must be some vivid history back of the man, Ralph theorized, for
there were sparkles of real genius here and there in his movements and
explanations of the next two hours.
He showed Ralph the true merits and economics of the wiper's avocation
in a quick, practical way that proved Ike Slump was a novice and a
bungler.
Then the helper took Ralph under his special tuition higher up in the
scale.
Ralph was in a real transport of delighted interest as the lame helper
taught him the first principles of preparing, running and controlling a
locomotive.
He did something more than control a throttle or move a lever--he
explained why this and that was done, and demonstrated cause and effect
in a clear-cut way that gave Ralph more real, sound information in two
hours than he could have gained from the study of books in as many
months.
The foreman passed in and out of the place several times during the
afternoon, but seemed almost studiously to avoid contact or conversation
with Ralph.
About four o'clock the helper, busy wheeling away the broken bricks from
the hole in the wall, nudged Ralph meaningly.
"Slump's old man," he said tersely.
Glancing towards the office, Ralph saw a coarse-featured, disorderly
looking man conversing with the foreman.
The latter was cool, dignified and evidently laying down the law in an
unmistakably clear manner to his visitor, who shrugged his shoulders,
pounded his palms together, and seemed wroth and worked up over the
situation they were discussing.
Ralph knew that Slump senior ran a saloon just beyond the freight sheds,
and was glad to see him go off alone and evidently disgruntled and
fancied he caught an expression on Forgan's face indicating that he had
done his duty and was glad of it.
"Bad lot," commented Limpy, coming back for some more bricks.
"Foreman?"
"No, Slump. It was two of his poison drinks four years ago that sent me
home one night on the wrong tracks, crippled me for life, lost me my
run, and made a pensioned drudge of me for the rest of my years,"
declared the helper bitterly.
By five o'clock the debris had been cleared away from the break in the
roundhouse wall, the derailed locomotive backed to place, and things
ready for the masons to repair the damage in the morning.
Ralph was walking away from a cursory inspection of the spot, when a
whistle sounded directly outside. Then a hissing voice echoed:
"Hey, Slump!"
Ralph turned. A man was moving around the edge of the break in the
wall.
"I'm not Slump," announced Ralph. Then he recognized the stranger. It
was the tramp-like individual who had come after Ike Slump's dinner pail
two nights previous.
"Oh!" he now said, drawing back in a suspicious, embarrassed manner.
"Where's Ike?"
"He has gone home, I suppose," answered Ralph.
"Didn't--that is, he hasn't left his dinner pail for me, has he?"
floundered the tramp.
"No, he took it with him. At any rate, his locker is empty."
"All right," muttered the fellow, edging away.
Ralph remembered that heavily-weighted dinner pail of Ike Slump's with
some suspicion. Still, Ike's explanation of furnishing the man with a
daily lunch looked plausible.
"Hold on," called Ralph after the receding form.
"What is it?" inquired the tramp, wheeling about.
"I'll help you out--wait a minute."
Ralph hurried to his locker. Fully half of his noonday lunch had been
left untasted. He bundled up the fragments and returned to the break in
the wall.
"Here's a bite," said Ralph.
"Thank you," growled the tramp gruffly, taking the proffered lunch.
A minute later Ralph was summoned to a bench placed under the windows at
the south curve of the building.
Limpy stood on the bench, looking out.
"Come here," he directed. "No use!"
"What do you mean?" inquired Ralph.
"Look."
Ralph, clambering up to the bench, had the retiring tramp in full view.
The latter was piece by piece firing the lunch he had given him at
switches and signal posts, as if he had a special spite against it.
"Didn't come for food, you see?" observed the helper.
"What did he come for, then?" demanded Ralph, indignant and wrought up.
Limpy simply shrugged his shoulders, and went off about his duties.
Ralph was not sorry when the six o'clock whistle sounded. He had gone
through an uncommon strain, both mental and physical, during the day,
and was tired and glad to get home.
Limpy, in his smooth, quiet way, arranged it so that he left the
roundhouse when Ralph did, and as the latter noticed that his companion
kept watching out in all directions, he traced a certain voluntary
guardianship in the man's intentions.
But if Limpy feared that Ike Slump or his satellites were lying in wait,
it was not along the special route Ralph took in proceeding homewards.
He reached the little cottage with no unpleasant interruptions. His
mother welcomed him at the gate with a bright smile. Their boy guest
was weeding out a vegetable bed. He immediately came up to Ralph,
extending a beautifully clean full-grown carrot he had selected from its
bed.
Ralph took it, patting the giver encouragingly on the shoulder, who
looked satisfied, and Ralph was pleased at this indication that the boy
knew him.
"How has he been all day?" Ralph inquired of his mother.
"Just as you see him now," answered the widow. "He has been busy all
day, willing, happy as a lark. The doctor dropped in this afternoon."
"What did he say?" asked Ralph.
"He says there is nothing the matter with the boy excepting the shock.
He fears no violent outbreak, or anything of that kind, and only hopes
that gradually the cloud will leave his mind."
"If kindness can help any, he will get sound and well," declared Ralph
chivalrously. "He doesn't talk much?"
"Hardly a word, but he watches, and seems to understand everything."
"What is that?" asked Ralph, pausing as they passed together through the
side door.
The wood shed door was scrawled over with chalk marks Ralph had not seen
there before.
"Oh," explained Mrs. Fairbanks, "he found a piece of chalk, and seemed
to take pleasure in writing every once in a while."
"And just one word?"
"Yes, Ralph--those three letters."
"V-A-N," spelled out Ralph. "Mother, that must be his name--Van."