Ralph on the Engine Part 16

"Won't tell anything, eh?" said the a.s.sistant superintendent.

"The letter says all there is to say," remarked the captive coolly, "but that twenty thousand dollars will never find young Trevor if you keep me a prisoner."

"A prisoner safe and tight you shall be," declared the railroad official with determination. "Take him to the town jail, men," he added. "I must wire for the president of the road at once, and to Adair at Stanley Junction. What's your plan, Fairbanks?" he asked of Ralph.

"I hardly know," responded the young fireman. "I don't see that I can be of any a.s.sistance here."

The letter the kidnappers had left with Ralph was terse and clear as to its directions. The writer demanded twenty thousand dollars for the return of young Trevor, and indicated how his friends might get in correspondence with his captors through an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the city newspapers.

"The wrecking car is going to the bridge, Fairbanks," said the official. "You can cross the creek some way and use a handcar, if they have one. Tell the men there I say so. As to your prisoner, I will see that he is taken care of."

It was just daylight when Ralph reached the switch tower where Griscom had disappeared. The towerman had just been relieved from duty, and met Ralph with eager welcome as he was approaching the place.

"Glad to see you," he said. "We just found Griscom."

"Where is he?" inquired Ralph quickly.

"In the tower, all safe and comfortable now, but he had a hard time of it lying all night in a freight car, gagged and tied. He is fighting mad, don't understand the affair, and worried to death about you."

"Oh, I am all right," said Ralph.

"I see you are. But what has happened, anyhow? You'll want to tell Griscom, won't you? Well, I'll go back with you to hear your story, too."

It was an interesting scene, the meeting of the engineer and the young fireman. Griscom fretted and fumed over the mishaps to his pet locomotive. He was furious at the gang who had worked out such mischief.

"I'll wire my resignation when we reach Stanley Junction," he declared. "I'll do no more railroad work until I find those scoundrels and rescue young Trevor."

"Don't be rash, Mr. Griscom," advised Ralph. "The railroad detective force will soon be on the trail. The nephew of a railroad president doesn't disappear in this fas.h.i.+on every day in the year."

When they got back to Stanley Junction they were interviewed at once by Bob Adair. Both were worn out with double duty and got to bed as quickly as possible.

Ralph reported at the roundhouse late in the afternoon, but learned that there would be no through trains out until a temporary bridge was erected over the creek near Dover.

He returned to the house, and was pleased with the thought of having a social evening at home and a good night's rest.

It was shortly after dark, and Ralph was reading a book in the cozy sitting room of the home cottage, when the door bell rang.

The young fireman answered the summons. A stranger stood at the threshold. He was a dignified, well-dressed gentleman, but seemed to be laboring under some severe mental strain, for he acted nervous and agitated.

"Mr. Fairbanks--Ralph Fairbanks?" he inquired in a tone of voice that quivered slightly.

"Yes," replied the young fireman.

"I am very anxious to have a talk with you," said the stranger hurriedly. "I have been down the line, and have just arrived at Stanley Junction. My name is Grant, Robert Grant, and I am the president of the Great Northern Railroad."

"Come in, sir," said Ralph cordially, deeply impressed with welcoming so important a visitor, but maintaining his usual manly pose. He showed the official into the house and introduced him to his mother.

Mr. Grant was soon in the midst of his story. He had been for many hours at Dover trying to discover a trace of his missing nephew, and had signally failed.

"Mr. Adair, the road detective, advised me to see you," said Mr.

Grant, "for you saw the men who captured my nephew. Would you know them again?"

"Some of them," responded Ralph.

"Very well, then. I ask you as a special favor to return with me to Dover and a.s.sist me in my task."

"I will do so gladly," said Ralph.

One hour later a special conveyed the president of the Great Northern and Ralph Fairbanks down the line to Dover.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SHORT LINE RAILWAY

Ralph attracted a good deal of attention when he arrived at Dover, and fully realized the honor of being treated as a companion by the president of the great railroad of which he was an employe. Mr. Grant was pleasant and friendly. He learned Ralph's story, and discussed railroad experience in a way that was enlightening and encouraging to the young fireman.

"About these kidnappers," he said, "I will never give them a dollar, but I will spend all I have to rescue my nephew. It is needless to say that you shall be richly rewarded if you a.s.sist me successfully."

"I will do my best, sir," pledged Ralph.

At Dover they were met by Adair. They went into the depot and sat down on a bench in a remote corner.

"I have not discovered the kidnappers nor the faintest clew to them, Mr. Grant," said Adair.

The railroad president sighed deeply. He showed in his face and manner the care and anxiety he was suffering.

"Can you suggest anything, Fairbanks?" continued Adair. "You know the district fairly well. What is your idea about these men?"

Ralph astonished his companions by suddenly arising to his feet and hurrying towards a boy who had just entered the depot and had taken up a pen and a telegraph pad on the counter outside the ticket office.

It was Van Sherwin, the old-time friend of Ralph, and pleasure at recognizing him had caused the young fireman to act on an impulse.

"Why, Van!" he cried, "I am glad to see you."

"Eh?" spoke the other. "Ralph! well, the gladness is mutual," and the pair shook hands cordially.

"What brought you here?" asked Ralph.

"Came down from headquarters in the timber on important business,"

replied Van. "Just sending a telegram."

"Why!" almost shouted Ralph, glancing at the blank upon which his friend had just written a name, "to Mr. Grant, to the president of the Great Northern!"

"Yes," answered Van. "Does that startle you?"