Part 43 (1/2)

”What are you going to do?”

”Have a talk with him first, if I can.”

Ralph reflected for a few moments. Then he decided on a course of action. He suggested that Van remain where he was. Lining the sh.o.r.e himself, Ralph kept well in the shelter of the shrubbery until he was directly opposite the spot where the object of his interest was at work.

He could not secure more than a general idea of what Ike was about unless he exposed himself to view. Ike seemed to be framing together a raft. He was very intent on his task--so much so, that when Ralph finally decided to show himself he was not aware of a visitor until Ralph stood directly at his side.

”How do you do, Slump?” spoke Ralph, as carelessly as though meeting him on the streets of Stanley Junction in an everyday recognition.

”Hi! who--smithereens! Stand back!”

Ike let out a whoop of amazement. He jumped back two feet. Then he stared at his visitor in a strained att.i.tude, too overcome to speak coherently.

”Ralph Fairbanks!” he spluttered.

Ralph nodded pleasantly.

Ike grew more collected. He presented a wretched appearance. He was thin, hungry-looking, sullen of manner, and evidently dejected of spirit.

A sudden suspicion lit up his face as he glanced furtively into the shrubbery beyond his visitor, as though fearing other intruders. Then with his old time tricky nimbleness he described a kind of a sliding slip, and seized a short iron bar lying on the ground.

”What do you want?” he demanded, with a scowl.

”I want to have a talk with you, Ike.”

”What about?”

”Your mother.”

Ralph had heard back at Stanley Junction that Ike's mother had mourned her son's evil course as a judgment sent upon them because her husband sold liquor. He felt sorry for her, as Ike now shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and not a gleam of home-longing or affection followed the allusion to his mother.

”Did you come specially for that?” demanded Ike. ”Because if you did, how did you know I was here?”

”I didn't--this meeting is purely accidental.”

”Oh!” muttered Ike incredulously.

”I'll be plain, Slump,” said Ralph, ”for I see you don't welcome my company or my mission. Your father is worried to death about you, your mother is slowly pining away. If you have any manhood at all, you will go home.”

”What for?” flared out Ike, savagely swinging the iron rod--”to get walloped! Worse, to get jugged! You played me a fine trick spying into Cohen's and getting the gang in a box. I ought to just kill you, I ought!”

”Well, hear what I have to say before you begin your slaughter,” said Ralph quietly. ”Out of sympathy for your mother, and because your father has friends among the railroad men, I think the disposition of the railroad company is to treat you with leniency in the matter of the stolen junk, if you show you are ready to do the square thing.”

”They can't prove a thing against me!” shouted Ike wrathfully. ”Think I don't know how affairs stand? They can't do anything with Cohen, either, unless some one peaches--and no one will.”

”Don't be too sure of that,” advised Ralph. ”They can lock you up, and if they delve very deep, can convict you on circ.u.mstantial evidence. But I don't want to discuss that. It's plain business, and now is your time to act. Go home, give the company a chance to get back its property, and I'll guarantee they will deal lightly with you--this time.”

”Put my head in the jaws of the lion?” derided Ike--”not much! Say, Ralph Fairbanks, what do you take me for? And what do I know about their stolen plunder?”

”You drove off from Stanley Junction that night with it.”