"The cancellation of the mortgage on my mother's home, and the alleged forged note upon which Mr. Farrington bases a criminal charge against one Farwell Gibson."

"Why!" exclaimed the lawyer, very much amazed. "What has Farwell Gibson got to do with this matter?"

"Mr. Black," replied Ralph, "I can not tell you that. You have my terms. Mr. Farrington is a bad man. He can make some rest.i.tution by giving me those two doc.u.ments. That ends it, so far as we are concerned."

"And if he does not agree to your terms?" insinuated the lawyer.

"I shall go to some other lawyer at once, and expose him publicly," said Ralph.

Mr. Black reflected for some moments. Then he arose, took up his hat, and said:

"Remain here till I return, Fairbanks. Mr. Farrington has been sick for some days----"

"I should think he would be!" murmured Ralph, to himself.

"But this is an important matter, and can not brook delay. I will see him at once."

Ralph had to wait nearly an hour. When the lawyer returned he closed the office door and faced his visitor seriously.

"Fairbanks," he said, "I have faith in your honor, or I would never advise my client to do as he has done. You are sure you control this matter sufficiently to prevent any further trouble being made for Mr.

Farrington, or any unnecessary publicity of this affair?"

"Yes," a.s.sented Ralph pointedly--"unless I ever find out that we have any just claim to the twenty thousand dollars in railroad bonds which once belonged to my father."

"I fancy that is a dead issue," said the lawyer, with a dry smile. "Very well, there are your papers."

He handed Ralph an unsealed envelope. Ralph glanced inside.

Gasper Farrington had been forced to swallow a bitter dose of humiliation and defeat.

The inclosures were the Farwell Gibson forged note, and a deed of release which gave to Ralph's mother her homestead, free and clear.

CHAPTER x.x.xV--CONCLUSION

Ralph stepped across the turntable entrance to the roundhouse at Stanley Junction just as the one o'clock whistles were blowing.

It was like coming home again. Limpy, shining up a locomotive headlight, gave a croak of welcome, jumped down from the pilot, and slapped his greasy, blackened hand into that of his young favorite with genuine fervor.

The engineers, firemen and extras in the dog house called out the usual variety of cheery chaff, but all pleasant and interested.

"This is a great place to find friends!" smiled Ralph, and then hurried his steps, for the roundhouse foreman at that moment appeared at the door of his little office.

"This way, Fairbanks," he hailed, quite eagerly. "Well," as he ushered Ralph into the grimy sanctum, "back again, I see?"

"Yes, Mr. Forgan," answered Ralph, "and glad to be here."

"What news?"

"About the stolen plunder," began Ralph.

"Of course. That's the one considerable freight on my mind, just at present," acknowledged the foreman, with an anxious sigh. "We show a mortgage on our inventory, and a big railroad system don't take kindly to that sort of thing, you know."

"Very well, Mr. Forgan," said Ralph brightly, "you can change your inventory."

"What! you don't mean----"

"I have found the wagon load of bra.s.s fittings," answered Ralph. "They are in safe charge at the present time, subject to your order. Here is my report to the special agent, Mr. Matthewson, and I guess, Mr. Forgan, I'm out of a job again, for I don't see anything further in sight."

"Fairbanks, you're a trump!" shouted the delighted foreman, slapping the young railroader vigorously on the shoulder. "You've saved me some uneasiness, I can tell you! That your report?" with a glance at a neatly-directed envelope Ralph had produced. "Come with me. We want to catch Matthewson before he gets away. He's going down to Springfield this afternoon--on your business, too."

"On my business?" repeated Ralph. "That sounds like a good omen."

"Don't you worry about omens, my young friend!" chuckled the foreman.

"You've about won your spurs, this time. How did you run across that stolen stuff, when those smart, experienced specials never got a sniff of it?"

"Quite by accident," replied Ralph. "I found Ike Slump. As near as I can figure it out, he and his tramp friend had a breakdown near Dover.

The tramp appears to have got discouraged or frightened, cut away with Cohen's horses, sold them and decamped, leaving Ike in the lurch. Ike got the wagonload over into a ravine to hide it till he could raft the stuff to a distance, and dispose of it and disappear, too. I nipped his scheme just in time."

Matthewson appeared as glad to see Ralph as Forgan had been. He expressed the liveliest satisfaction at the contents of the report Ralph handed to him.

"I think this will be a final spoke in the wheel of Mr. Inspector Bardon," he said significantly. "Hope you attended to your writing and spelling in this report, Fairbanks?"

"Why so?" inquired Ralph.

"Because the president of the Great Northern is likely to see it before nightfall," announced Matthewson, with a grim chuckle.

The foreman and Ralph returned to the roundhouse. After a while Big Denny came in, full of animation and welcome. Ralph learned that Mrs.

Slump was better, but hers was a sad household. The parents had about given up ever redeeming their scapegrace son from his evil ways, and the stricken mother insisted to her husband that they would never know good luck again until he gave up selling strong drink.

With a promise to come up to his house and see little Nora, "who so prettily says her prayers for you every night," Forgan told Ralph, the foreman allowed his friend to go home late in the afternoon.

That was a quiet, happy evening at the Fairbanks homestead.

It seemed to mother and son as though after a brave, patient struggle they had reached some sublime height, from which they could look back over all difficulties overcome, and forward to golden promises for the future.

Ralph valued the friends he had made in the railroad service and also the experience he had gained.

There had been ups and downs. There was hard work ahead. But, brighter than ever, shone the clear star of ambition at the top of the ladder of the railroad career.

Ralph felt that he was in the hands of his friends, and could afford to await their exertions in his behalf.

The next day he was returning from a stroll, turning over in his mind a plan to learn Matthewson's decision as to what, if anything, the company wanted done with Ike Slump, and to make a visit to Farwell Gibson with the joyful news that would make him a free man, when nearing home, Ralph hurried his steps at the sounds of animated conversation within the cottage.

In the cozy little parlor sat his mother, and on a stool at her feet was Van. His bright, ingenuous face was aglow with happiness, and he was chatting away to a loving, interested listener merry as a magpie.