Ralph of the Roundhouse: or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man

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"Ready for work?" asked Ralph, pressing his point.

"Yes," came the surly reply.

"What time, if you please, sir?"

"Seven."

"Thank you."

The foreman turned from him with an angry grunt, and Ralph started to leave.

One of the firemen he knew winked at him, another made an animated grimace at the surly boss. Ralph heard a third remark, in a low tone.

"What a liking he's taken to him! He'll have a fierce run for his money."

"Yes, it'll be a full course of sprouts. You won't have a path of flowers, kid."

"I shan't come here to raise flowers," answered Ralph quietly.

He trod the air as he left the roundhouse. The gruff, uncivil manner of the foreman had not daunted him a whit. He had met all kinds of men in his brief business experience, and he believed that honest, conscientious endeavor could not fail to win both success and good will in time.

Ralph went back to his friend More, at the express shed, and told his story.

"You're booked, sure enough," admitted the agent, though a little glumly. "I'd have struck higher."

"It suits me, Mr. More," declared Ralph. "And now, I want your good services of advice as to what I am expected to do, and what clothes I need."

Ralph left his friend, thoroughly posted as to his probable duties at the roundhouse. The agent advised him to purchase a cheap pair of jumpers, and wear old rough shoes and a thin pair of gloves the first day or two.

Ralph visited a dry-goods store, fitted himself out, and started for home.

He was absorbed in thinking and planning, and turning a corner thus engrossed almost ran into a pedestrian.

As he drew back and aside, a hand was suddenly thrust out and seized his arm in a vise-like grip.

"No, you don't!" sounded a strident voice. "I've got you at last, have I?"

In astonishment Ralph looked up, to recognize his self-announced captor. It was Gasper Farrington.

CHAPTER VIII-THE OLD FACTORY

Ralph pulled loose from the grasp of the crabbed old capitalist, fairly indignant at the sudden onslaught.

"Don't you run! don't you run!" cried Farrington, swinging his cane threateningly.

"And don't you dare to strike!" warned Ralph, with a glitter in his eye. "I'd like to know, sir, what right you have stopping me on the public street in this manner?"

"It will be a warrant matter, if you aint careful!" retorted Farrington.

"I can't imagine how."

"Oh, can't you?" gibed Farrington, his plain animosity for Ralph showing in his malicious old face. "Well, I'll show you."

"I shall be glad to have you do so."

"Do you see that building?"

Farrington pointed across the baseball grounds at the edge of which they stood, indicating the old unused factory.

A light broke on Ralph's mind.

"I own that building," announced Farrington, swelling up with importance-"it's my property."

"So I've heard."

"A window was broken there and you broke it!"

"I did," admitted Ralph.

"Oho! you shamefacedly acknowledge it, do you? Malicious mischief, young man-that's the phase of the law you're up against!"

"It was an accident," said Ralph-"pure and simple."

"Well, you'll stand for it."

"I intend to. I made a note of it in my mind at the time, Mr. Farrington, and if you had not said a word to me about it I should have done the right thing."

"What do you call the right thing?"

"Replacing the light of glass, of course," was Ralph's reply.

"Glad to see you've got some sense of decency about you. All right. It'll cost you just a dollar and twenty-five cents. Hand over the money, and I'll have my man fix it."

Ralph laughed outright.

"Hardly, Mr. Farrington," he said. "I can buy a pane of glass for thirty-five cents, and put it in for nothing. I will take this bundle home and attend to it at once."

Farrington looked mad and disappointed at being outwitted in his attempt to make three hundred per cent. However, if Ralph made good he could find no fault with the proposition. He mumbled darkly and Ralph passed on. Then a temptation he could not resist came to the boy, and turning he remarked: