Part 21 (2/2)

”Oh!” he now said, drawing back in a suspicious, embarra.s.sed manner.

”Where's Ike?”

”He has gone home, I suppose,” answered Ralph.

”Didn't--that is, he hasn't left his dinner pail for me, has he?”

floundered the tramp.

”No, he took it with him. At any rate, his locker is empty.”

”All right,” muttered the fellow, edging away.

Ralph remembered that heavily-weighted dinner pail of Ike Slump's with some suspicion. Still, Ike's explanation of furnis.h.i.+ng the man with a daily lunch looked plausible.

”Hold on,” called Ralph after the receding form.

”What is it?” inquired the tramp, wheeling about.

”I'll help you out--wait a minute.”

Ralph hurried to his locker. Fully half of his noonday lunch had been left untasted. He bundled up the fragments and returned to the break in the wall.

”Here's a bite,” said Ralph.

”Thank you,” growled the tramp gruffly, taking the proffered lunch.

A minute later Ralph was summoned to a bench placed under the windows at the south curve of the building.

Limpy stood on the bench, looking out.

”Come here,” he directed. ”No use!”

”What do you mean?” inquired Ralph.

”Look.”

Ralph, clambering up to the bench, had the retiring tramp in full view.

The latter was piece by piece firing the lunch he had given him at switches and signal posts, as if he had a special spite against it.

”Didn't come for food, you see?” observed the helper.

”What did he come for, then?” demanded Ralph, indignant and wrought up.

Limpy simply shrugged his shoulders, and went off about his duties.

Ralph was not sorry when the six o'clock whistle sounded. He had gone through an uncommon strain, both mental and physical, during the day, and was tired and glad to get home.

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