Part 23 (1/2)
”Well, some day, when I am in a position to do so, I'm going to have Mr.
Gasper Farrington hauled into court about the matter,” observed Ralph.
”If he has anything belonging to my mother and me, we want it.”
”It seems to me you ought to find something among your father's papers shedding light on the subject?” suggested Denny.
”It looks as if my father had had blind confidence in Mr. Farrington,”
said Ralph.
”Yes, the old fox has a way of winding himself around his victims,”
declared the outspoken watchman. ”I remember a fellow he wound up good and proper, about three years ago.”
”Who was that?” asked Ralph.
”His name was Farwell Gibson. He got the railroad fever, sold his farm, came to the Junction, and he and Farrington had some deals. They had a big row one night, too, and Farrington threw Gibson out of his house, and some windows were broken. The neighbors heard Gibson accuse Farrington of robbing him. Next day, though, Farrington swore out a warrant against Gibson for forgery, and Gibson has never been seen since. Maybe,” concluded Big Denny, ”he killed him.”
”Oh, he wouldn't do that!”
”Gasper Farrington has a heart as hard as flint,” said Denny, ”and would do anything for money.”
”Farwell Gibson,” murmured Ralph, memorizing the name.
When quitting-time came that evening, Ralph left the roundhouse alone, Limpy having been sent with a message to the depot.
As usual, he saved distance by following the tracks where they curved, then at a certain point cut through the unfenced back yards of some small stores fronting the depot street.
Beyond this was a prairie. Turning a heap of ties to take a last straight shoot for home, Ralph found his progress abruptly blocked.
”Thought we'd get you!” announced a familiar voice, and Ike Slump stepped into view.
CHAPTER XVII--THE BATTLE BY THE TRACKS
”What do you want?” demanded Ralph.
He did not at all look as if his hour had come, but he backed to a commanding position against the pile of ties, as half a dozen hoodlum companions of Ike Slump followed their leader into sight.
”Peel!” said Ike importantly, and he began to roll up his sleeves.
”I'm comfortable,” suggested Ralph easily. ”By the way, Ike, your father is looking for you.”
”Never you mind about my affairs,” retorted Ike. ”It's you I've been waiting for, it's you I've got, and it's you I'm going to lick.”
”What for?” asked Ralph.
”What for?” echoed Ike derisively--”hear him, fellows!”
”Ho! hear him!” echoed the motley crew at Ike's heels.