In about five minutes the arrangements were completed by Ralph and Van
for the transportation of their prisoner to "headquarters."
Ike Slump, tied securely, was snugly propped up in the seat beside Van.
Ralph waited until he saw them safely on their way, and then went
straight back to the spot where he had discovered Ike.
A cursory view of the raft had already awakened a vivid train of
thought. Now, as he looked it over more particularly, Ralph found that
he had grounds for suspicions of the most promising kind.
"Ike must have been at work on this for several days," decided Ralph. "I
didn't think he had so much patience and constructive ability. It's big
enough to carry a house, and of course his making it, as he says, to
float himself down stream to a safe distance, is sheer nonsense."
Some large logs formed the basis of the raft. Over these were nailed
boards to give its bottom depth and solidity.
It was a sight of those boards that had set Ralph thinking. Such handy
timber, he recognized, had no business this far from civilization. Where
had they come from?
"Those two are box covers," concluded Ralph, after a close inspection,
"and they are the exact size of the boxes I saw at Cohen's back room at
Stanley Junction. I must find out what it does mean."
Then Ralph made a second discovery, and knew that he was distinctly on
the hot trail of something of importance.
Two corners of the raft were bound with heavy brass pieces used as
ornamental clamps on passenger coaches. They were stamped inside "G.N."
"Great Northern property, sure," reflected Ralph, "and of course part of
the stolen plunder. That wagon load never went to or through Dover, so
far as the police people have been able to find out, but I am sure it
did come here, or near here, or what is Ike doing with those pieces?"
Ralph now set about tracing Ike's living quarters. They must be
somewhere in the immediate vicinity.
He had little difficulty in following up a worn path across the grass.
It led to a snug shakedown, under the lee of a slope roofed over with
dry branches and grass.
Here Ralph found a case of canned goods, a box of crackers and a lot of
tobacco and cigarette papers. On a heap of dry grass lay a wagon
cushion.
Ralph circled this spot. He had to exert the ingenuity and diligence of
an Indian trailer in an effort to follow the footsteps leading to and
from the place in various directions. Finally he felt that his patience
was about to be rewarded. For over two hundred feet the disturbed and
beaten down grass showed where some object had been dragged over the
ground, probably the boards used in the construction of the raft.
The trail led along the winding shore of the creek and up a continuous
slope. Then abruptly it ceased, directly at the edge of a deep,
verdure-choked ravine.
Ralph peered down. A gleam of red, like a wagon tongue, caught his eye.
Then he made out a rounding metal rim like the tire of a wheel. He began
to let himself down cautiously with the help of roots and vines. His
feet finally rested on a solid box body.
An irrepressible cry of satisfaction arose from the lips of the lonely
delver in the debris at the bottom of the ravine.
When Ralph clambered up again he was warm and perspiring but his eyes
were bright with the influence of some stimulating discovery.
He stood still for five minutes, as if undecided just what to do,
glanced at the fast-setting sun, and struck out briskly in the direction
of the road leading to Dover.
It was midnight when he reached the town he had visited earlier in the
same day. Ralph went straight to the police station of the place.
For about an hour he was closeted with one of the officers there whom he
had met earlier on his visit in the gig. They had a spirited
confidential talk.
Ralph was on railroad business now, pure and simple, for he was acting
in accordance with Road Detective Matthewson's instructions and on the
strength of his written authority.
"I ran catch a Midland Central train west to Osego in about an hour," he
planned, as he left the police station and walked towards the depot.
"There's a ten-mile cut across country on foot to Springfield, and then
I am headed for Stanley Junction by daylight."
Ralph boarded the train at Springfield at about six o'clock in the
morning. His pass from Matthewson won him a comfortable seat in the
chair car, and he had a sound, refreshing nap by the time the 10.15
rolled into Stanley Junction.
Griscom had this run, but Ralph did not make his presence known to his
sturdy engineer friend. He left the train at a crossing near home, and
was soon seated at the kitchen table doing ample justice to a meal
hurriedly prepared for him by his delighted mother.
Almost her first solicitous inquiry was for Van.
"Van is well and happy, mother," Ralph Answered. "Grateful, too. And,
mother, he remembers 'the dear lady who sung the sweet songs.'"
"Ralph, do you mean," exclaimed Mrs. Fairbanks tremulously--"do you mean
his mind has come back to him?"
"Yes, mother."
"Oh, God be praised!" murmured the widow, the tears of joy streaming
down her beaming face, lifted in humble thankfulness to heaven.
Then Ralph hurriedly went over the details and results of his trip with
Van Sherwin.
Later he spent half an hour at a careful toilet, and just as the town
clock announced the noon hour Ralph walked into the law office of Jerome
Black.
Mr. Black was a well-known attorney of Stanley Junction. He was an
austere, highly efficient man in his line, had a good general record,
and all Ralph had against him was that he was Gasper Farrington's
lawyer.
It was upon this account that Ralph had decided to call upon him. All
the way to the attorney's office Ralph had reflected seriously over what
he would say and do.
The lawyer nodded curtly to Ralph as he came into his presence. He knew
the youth by sight, knew nothing against him, and because of this had
granted him an audience, supposing Ralph wanted his help in securing him
work, or something of that kind.
But the leading lawyer of Stanley Junction was never so astonished in
his life as now, when Ralph promptly, clearly and in a business-like
manner outlined the object of his visit.
"Mr. Black," Ralph said, "I know you are the lawyer of Mr. Gasper
Farrington. I also know you to have the reputation of being an exact
and honorable business man. I do not know the ethics of your
profession, I do not know how you will treat some information I am about
to impart to you, but I feel that you will in any case treat an honest
working boy, looking only for his rights, fairly and squarely."
"Why, thank you, Fairbanks," acknowledged Black, looking very much
mystified at this strange preface--"but what are you driving at?"
Then Ralph told him. He did not tell him all--there was no occasion to
do so. He simply said that he could produce evidence that Gasper
Farrington had treated his dead father in a most dishonorable manner,
and that, further, he could produce a sworn affidavit showing that the
mortgage on his mother's homestead was in reality only a deed of trust.
The lawyer's brows knitted as Ralph told his story. He could not fail
to be impressed at Ralph's straightforwardness. When Ralph had
concluded he said briefly:
"Fairbanks, you are an earnest, truthful boy, and I respect you for it.
What you tell me is my client's personal business, not mine. But I see
plainly that he must adopt some action to avoid a scandal. Your grounds
seem well taken, and I am pleased that you came to me instead of making
public what can do you no good, and might do Mr. Farrington considerable
harm. What do you want?"
"Simply two things--they are my right. After that let Mr. Farrington
leave us alone, and we will not disturb him."
"What are those two things?" inquired the lawyer.
"The cancellation of the mortgage on my mother's home, and the alleged
forged note upon which Mr. Farrington bases a criminal charge against
one Farwell Gibson."
"Why!" exclaimed the lawyer, very much amazed. "What has Farwell Gibson
got to do with this matter?"
"Mr. Black," replied Ralph, "I can not tell you that. You have my
terms. Mr. Farrington is a bad man. He can make some restitution by
giving me those two documents. That ends it, so far as we are
concerned."
"And if he does not agree to your terms?" insinuated the lawyer.
"I shall go to some other lawyer at once, and expose him publicly," said
Ralph.
Mr. Black reflected for some moments. Then he arose, took up his hat,
and said:
"Remain here till I return, Fairbanks. Mr. Farrington has been sick for
some days----"
"I should think he would be!" murmured Ralph, to himself.
"But this is an important matter, and can not brook delay. I will see
him at once."
Ralph had to wait nearly an hour. When the lawyer returned he closed
the office door and faced his visitor seriously.
"Fairbanks," he said, "I have faith in your honor, or I would never
advise my client to do as he has done. You are sure you control this
matter sufficiently to prevent any further trouble being made for Mr.
Farrington, or any unnecessary publicity of this affair?"
"Yes," assented Ralph pointedly--"unless I ever find out that we have
any just claim to the twenty thousand dollars in railroad bonds which
once belonged to my father."
"I fancy that is a dead issue," said the lawyer, with a dry smile. "Very
well, there are your papers."
He handed Ralph an unsealed envelope. Ralph glanced inside.
Gasper Farrington had been forced to swallow a bitter dose of
humiliation and defeat.
The inclosures were the Farwell Gibson forged note, and a deed of
release which gave to Ralph's mother her homestead, free and clear.