Part 31 (1/2)

It was with a proud spirit that he took home his first month's salary, twenty-seven dollars and some odd cents.

Those odd cents, with some added, Ralph stopped near the depot to hand over to little Teddy.

The county farm orphan had been turned loose from custody after a week's imprisonment, with orders to report to the police at nine o'clock every Monday morning.

He was practically on parole, the authorities hoping that on the trial of Cohen he might give some evidence that would implicate the stolen-goods receiver, and Ralph had run across the little fellow drifting aimlessly about the town.

Ralph had a long talk with him, then he decided to ”stake” him as a newsboy. The depot watchman agreed to let him sell papers at the train exit, and Teddy had done fairly well, earning enough to pay for his lodging, Ralph making up the deficiency as to meals.

It was a bright hour in Mrs. Fairbanks' life when, after putting together what money she had with Ralph's earnings, and deducting the interest due Gasper Farrington, they were able to count a surplus of nearly twelve dollars.

Mrs. Fairbanks took the interest money to a bank where she had been notified the note was deposited, paid the amount, received the note, and with a lightened heart contemplated the future.

Two mornings later, when Ralph entered the roundhouse, he was accosted by Limpy in a keen, quick way.

”Primping day, Fairbanks,” said the lame helper. ”You want to hustle.”

”What are you getting at?” inquired Ralph.

”Inspection.”

”That's new to me.”

”So I'll explain. The inspector is on his tour, we got the tip to-day.

Came up on the daylight mail.”

”What does he inspect?”

”Everything from a loose drop of oil to a boiler dent. He is so beloved that the dog house crowd kick loose all the litter cans soon as he's gone, and so particular that he inspects the locomotives with a magnifying gla.s.s.”

”Who is he?” inquired Ralph curiously.

”Bardon is his name--it ought to be Badone! He's a relative of and trains with the division superintendent. He acted as a spy at the switchmen's strike, got nearly killed for his sneaking tactics, and the company rewarded him by giving him a gentlemanly position.”

Ralph readily saw that this Mr. Bardon was not a favorite with the rank and file of the railroad crowd.

”Well, we'll have to show him what a lot of active elbow grease will do towards making this a model roundhouse,” said Ralph cheerfully.

Limpy was not at all in harmony with this idea, and showed it plainly by action and words. He and the others considered the roundhouse and its privileges essentially their personal property, and resented advice or censure, especially from a man whom they intensely disliked.

During the afternoon various little things were done about the dog house that indicated the spirit of the crowd there. A pasteboard box nailed to the wall bore written directions to engineers and firemen to keep their kid gloves there. Another stated that brakemen must not wear turned collars. Various receptacles were labeled ”For cinders,” ”Clean your nails here,” and the general layout was a palpable satire on the strained relations with an expected visitor who was considered a martinet.

Ralph went carefully and conscientiously to work to brighten up things a bit and make them look their best, while Limpy growled and grumbled at him all the afternoon.

About four o'clock the lame helper was enjoying a brief respite from work at his usual lounging place, standing on a bench and looking out of a window. He called Ralph so suddenly and sharply that the latter hurried towards him.

”Quick!” uttered Limpy, face and hands working spasmodically, as they always did when he was excited.