Part 9 (1/2)
”No.”
”Ever heard of Limpy Joe?”
”Don't think I have.”
”Then,” said Ralph, ”I am going to introduce you to the most interesting boy you ever met.”
CHAPTER VII
LIMPY JOE'S RAILROAD RESTAURANT
Zeph Dallas stared about him in profound bewilderment and interest as Ralph led the way towards Limpy Joe's Railroad Restaurant.
It was certainly an odd-appearing place. Additions had been built onto the freight car until the same were longer than the original structure.
A square of about two hundred feet was enclosed by a barbed wire fence, and this s.p.a.ce was quite as interesting as the restaurant building.
There was a rude shack, which seemed to answer for a barn, a haystack beside it, and a well-appearing vegetable garden. Then, in one corner of the yard, was a heap of old lumber, stone, brick, doors, window sash, in fact, it looked as if some one had been gathering all the unmated parts of various houses he could find.
The restaurant was neatly painted a regular, dark-red freight-car color outside. Into it many windows had been cut, and a glance through the open doorway showed an interior scrupulously neat and clean.
”Tell me about it,” said Zeph. ”Limpy Joe--who is he? Does he run the place alone?”
”Yes,” answered Ralph. ”He is an orphan, and was hurt by the cars a few years ago. The railroad settled with him for two hundred dollars, an old freight car and a free pa.s.s for life over the road, including, Limpy Joe stipulated, locomotives and cabooses.”
”Wish I had that,” said Zeph--”I'd be riding all the time.”
”You would soon get tired of it,” Ralph a.s.serted. ”Well, Joe invested part of his money in a horse and wagon, located in that old freight car, which the company moved here for him from a wreck in the creek, and became a squatter on that little patch of ground. Then the restaurant idea came along, and the railroad hands encouraged him.
Before that, however, Joe had driven all over the country, picking up old lumber and the like, and the result is the place as you see it.”
”Well, he must be an ambitious, industrious fellow.”
”He is,” affirmed Ralph, ”and everybody likes him. He's ready at any time of the night to get up and give a tired-out railroad hand a hot cup of coffee or a lunch. His meals are famous, too, for he is a fine cook.”
”h.e.l.lo, Ralph Fairbanks,” piped a happy little voice as Ralph and Zeph entered the restaurant.
Ralph shook hands with the speaker, a boy hobbling about the place on a crutch.
”What's it going to be?” asked Limpy Joe, ”full dinner or a lunch?”
”Both, best you've got,” smiled Ralph. ”The railroad is paying for this.”
”That so? Then we'll reduce the rates. Railroad has been too good to me to overcharge the company.”
”This is my friend, Zeph Dallas,” introduced Ralph.
”Glad to know you,” said Joe. ”Sit down at the counter, fellows, and I'll soon have you served.”