A PRISONER
The three men almost instantly confronted Ralph, and one of them
seized him, holding him firmly.
Ralph quickly decided on his course of action. He yawned in the face
of the speaker and drawled sleepily:
"What are you waking a fellow up for?"
One held Ralph, another lit a match. They were rough, but shrewd
fellows. Instantly one of them said:
"Disguised!" and he pulled off Ralph's false moustache. "That means a
spy. Fellows, how can we tell Woods?"
"S--sh!" warned a companion--"no names. Now, young fellow, who are
you?"
But "young fellow" was gone! In a flash Ralph comprehended that he was
in a bad fix, his usefulness on the scene gone. In a twinkling he had
jerked free from the grasp of the man who held him, had sprung to the
platform of the oil car and thence to the roof of the next box car.
Almost immediately his recent captor was after him. It was now for
Ralph a race to the engine and his friend Barton.
The running boards were covered with sleet and as slippery as glass,
yet Ralph forged ahead. He could hear the short gasps for breath of a
determined pursuer directly behind him.
"Got you!" said a quick voice. Its owner stumbled, his head struck the
young fireman and Ralph was driven from the running board.
He was going at such a momentum that in no way could he check himself,
but slid diagonally across the roof of the car. There destruction
seemed to face him.
His pursuer had fallen flat on the running board. Ralph dropped flat
also, clutching vainly at space. His fingers tore along the thin
sheeting of ice. He reached the edge of the car roof.
For one moment the young fireman clung there. Then quick as a flash he
slipped one hand down. It was to hook his fingers into the top slide
bar of the car's side door. The action drew back the door about an
inch. It was unlocked. Ralph dropped his other hold lightning-quick,
thrust his hand into the interstice, pushed the door still further
back, and precipitated himself forward across the floor of an empty
box car.
There he lay, done up, almost terrified at the crowding perils of the
instant, marveling at his wonderful escape from death.
"They must think I went clear to the ground," theorized Ralph. "I am
safe for the present, at least. What an adventure! And Woods is in
league with the freight thieves! That solves the problem for the
railroad company.
"An empty car," he said, as he finally struggled to his feet. "I'll
wait till the train stops again and then run ahead to Barton. Hello!"
he exclaimed sharply, as moving about the car, his foot came in
contact with some object.
Ralph stood perfectly still. He could hear deep, regular breathing, as
of some one asleep. His curiosity impelled him to investigate farther.
He took a match from his pocket, flared it, and peered down.
Directly in one corner of the car lay a big, powerful man. He was
dressed in rags. His coat was open, and under it showed a striped
shirt.
"Why!" exclaimed Ralph, "a convict--an escaped convict!"
The man grasped in one hand, as if on guard with a weapon of defense,
a pair of handcuffs connected with a long, heavy steel chain.
Apparently he had in some way freed himself from these.
Ralph flared a second match to make a still closer inspection of the
man. This aroused the sleeper. He moved, opened his eyes suddenly, saw
Ralph, and with a frightful yell sprang up.
"I've got you!" he said, seizing Ralph. "After me, are you? Hold
still, or I'll throttle you. How near are the people who sent you on
my trail?"
"I won't risk that," shouted the man wildly.
In a twinkling he had slipped the handcuffs over Ralph's wrists. The
latter was a prisoner so strangely that he was more curious than
alarmed.
"Going to stop, are they?" pursued the man, as there was some
whistling ahead. "Mind you, now, get off when I do. Don't try to call,
and don't try to run away, or I'll kill you."
The train stopped and Ralph's companion pulled back the door. He got
out, forcing Ralph with him, and proceeded directly into the timber
lining the railroad, never pausing till he had reached a desolate spot
near a shallow creek.
Then the man ordered a halt. He sat down on the ground and forced his
captive to follow his example.
"Who are you?" he demanded roughly.
"I am Ralph Fairbanks, a fireman on the Great Northern Railroad,"
promptly explained the young fireman.
"Do you know me?"
"I infer from these handcuffs and your under uniform that you are an
escaped convict," answered Ralph.
"Know a good many people, do you?"
"Why, yes, I do," answered Ralph.
"Where is Stanley Junction?"
"About forty miles north of here. I live there."
"You do? you do?" cried the convict, springing up in a state of
intense excitement. "Here, lad, don't think me harsh or mean, or
cruel, but you have got to stay with me. You would betray me to the
police."
"No, I would not," declared Ralph.
"You would, I know--it's human nature. There is a big reward out for
me. Then, too, you know people. Yes, you must stay with me."
"I can't help you any--why should you detain me?" insisted Ralph.
"I must find a man," cried the convict, more wildly than ever--"or you
must find him for me."
"What man is that?" spoke Ralph.
"Do you know a Mr. Gasper Farrington?"
"Quite well," answered Ralph, rather startled at the question.
"That is the man!" shouted the convict.
"And that is singular, for I am very anxious myself to find that same
individual," said the young fireman.
Ralph felt that he was in the midst of a series of strange adventures
and discoveries that might lead to important results, not only for the
person he had so strangely met, but for himself, as well.
This impression was enforced as he watched his captor pace up and down
the ground, muttering wildly. He seemed to have some deep-rooted
hatred for Gasper Farrington. "Revenge," "Punishment," "Justice," were
the words that he constantly uttered. Ralph wondered what course he
could pursue to get the man down to a level of coherency and reason.
Finally the man said:
"Come, get up, we must find some shelter."
After an hour of arduous tramping they came to an old barn that had
been partly burned down. There was some hay in it. The convict lay
down on this, unloosed one handcuff from the wrist of his prisoner,
and attached the other to his own arm and lay as if in a daze until
daybreak.
Now he could inspect his prisoner clearly, and Ralph could study the
worn, frenzied face of his captor. The latter had calmed down
somewhat.
"Boy," he said, finally, "I don't dare to let you go, and I don't know
what to do."
"See here," spoke Ralph, "you are in deep trouble. I don't want to
make you any more trouble. Suppose you tell me all about yourself and
see if I can't help you out."
"Oh, I don't dare to trust any one," groaned the man.
"You spoke of Gasper Farrington," suggested Ralph. "Is he an enemy of
yours?"
"He has ruined my life," declared the convict.
"And why do you seek him?"
"To demand reparation, to drag him to the same fate he drove me to.
Just let me find him--that is all I wish--to meet him face to face."
Ralph began to quietly tell the story of his own dealings with the
village magnate of Stanley Junction. It had a great effect upon his
auditor. From dark distrust and suspicion his emotions gradually
subsided to interest, and finally to confidence.
It was only by gradations that Ralph led the man to believe that he
was his friend and could help him in his difficulties.
The convict told a pitiful story. Ralph believed it to be a true one.
To further his own avaricious ends, Farrington had devised a
villainous plot to send the man to the penitentiary. He had escaped.
He had documents that would cause Farrington not only to disgorge his
ill-gotten gains, but would send him to jail.
"I want to get to where those documents are hidden," said the convict.
"Then to find Farrington, and I shall right your wrongs as well as my
own."
Ralph reflected deeply over the matter in hand. He resolved on a
course of proceedings and submitted it to his companion.
He offered to take the convict to the isolated home of Amos Greenleaf,
where he could remain safely in retirement. Ralph promised to get him
comfortable garments and provide for his board and lodging. In a few
days he would see him again and help him to find Farrington.
The young fireman was now released from the handcuffs. He calculated
the location of the place where Greenleaf lived.
"It is about fifteen miles to the spot I told you of," he explained to
the convict.
"Can we reach it without being seen by any one?" anxiously inquired
his companion.
"Yes, I can take a route where we need not pass a single habitation."
It was afternoon when they reached the home of old Amos Greenleaf.
Ralph experienced no difficulty in arranging that the convict remain
there for a few days. He gave Greenleaf some money, and, promising to
see the convict very soon, proceeded to Wilmer.
The young fireman took the first train for Afton, and reported what
had occurred to the assistant superintendent.
Two days later Woods and his companions were in jail, and a great part
of the stolen freight plunder was recovered.
Woods confessed that he had duplicated keys and seals for the doors
and ventilators of the freight cars, and the bold thieveries along the
Great Northern now ceased.
Ralph obtained leave of absence for a week. He decided that it was
worth while to try and find Gasper Farrington. He went to the city,
got certain papers belonging to the magnate from Mr. Grant, and went
to Wilmer.
He was soon at the junction of the Springfield & Dover Short Cut
Railroad and the Great Northern. That terminus was completed. A neat
depot had been erected, and on the tracks of the new railroad there
stood a handsome locomotive.
"Oh, Ralph!" cried Zeph Dallas, rushing forward to greet his friend,
as the young fireman appeared. "Great news!"