Part 12 (1/2)
Ralph proceeded to get everything in order for the prospective run, but everything was so handy, it was a pleasure to contemplate his duties.
Just before train time a boy came running up to the engine. He was an old schoolmate and a neighbor.
”Ralph! Ralph!” he called breathlessly to the young fireman. ”Your mother sent me with a letter that she got at the post-office.”
”For me? Thank you, Ned,” said Ralph.
He glanced at the address. The handwriting was unfamiliar. There was no time left to inspect the enclosure, so Ralph slipped the letter in his pocket and proceeded to attend to the fire.
He quite forgot the letter after that, finding the duties of a first-cla.s.s fireman to be extremely arduous. There was plenty of coal to shovel, and he was pretty well tired out when they reached the city terminus.
”There, lad,” said Griscom proudly, as they steamed into the depot on time to a second. ”This makes me feel like old times once more.”
There was a wait of four hours in the city, during which period the train hands were at liberty to spend their time as they chose. Griscom took Ralph to a neat little hotel, where they had a meal and the privileges of a reading room. It was there that Ralph suddenly remembered the letter sent to him that morning by his mother.
As he opened it he was somewhat puzzled, for the signature was strange to him. The missive stated that the writer ”was acting for a former resident of Stanley Junction who wished to settle up certain obligations, if a satisfactory arrangement could be made.” Further the writer, as agent of the party in question, would meet Ralph at a certain hotel at a certain time and impart to him his instructions.
The young fireman was about to consult Griscom as to this mysterious missive, but found the old engineer engaged in conversation with some fellow railroaders, and, leaving the place, he proceeded to the hotel named in the letter.
He was an hour ahead of the time appointed in the communication and waited patiently for developments, thinking a good deal and wondering what would come of the affair.
Finally a man came into the place, acting as if he was looking for somebody. He was an under-sized person with a mean and crafty face. He glanced at Ralph, hesitated somewhat, and then advanced towards him.
”Is your name Fairbanks?” he questioned.
”Yes,” answered Ralph promptly.
”Wrote you a letter.”
”I received one, yes,” said Ralph. ”May I ask its meaning?”
”Well, there is nothing gained by beating about the bush. I represent, as an attorney, Mr. Gasper Farrington.”
”I thought that when I read your letter,” said Ralph.
”Then we understand each other,” pursued the attorney. ”Now then, see here, Farrington wants to do the square thing by you.”
”He ought to,” answered Ralph. ”He owes us twenty thousand dollars and he has got to pay it.”
”Oh, yes, you can undoubtedly collect it in time,” admitted the man.
”But why all this mystery?” asked Ralph abruptly. ”In an important matter like this, it appears to me some regular attorney might consult our attorneys at Stanley Junction.”
”Farrington won't do that. He don't feel the kindest in the world towards your people. Here is his simple proposition: This affair is to be settled up quietly between the parties directly interested. I am to give you certain papers for your mother to sign. You get them attended to. You will be later advised where and when to deliver them and get your money.”
”Twenty thousand dollars?” said Ralph.
”Yes.”
Ralph did not like the looks of things, but he kept his own counsel, and simply said: