"Up the back stairs!" cried Fogg. "They are nearest to her."

"No, no--you can never get up them," declared Ralph.

The side door of the house was open, showing a pair of stairs, but they were all ablaze. Smoke and sparks poured up this natural funnel fiercely. Ralph caught at the arm of his companion and tried to detain him, but Fogg broke away from his grasp.

Ralph saw him disappear beyond the blazing barrier. He was about to run around to the front of the house, when he heard a hoa.r.s.e cry.

Driven back by the overpowering smoke, Fogg had stumbled. He fell headlong down a half a dozen steps, his head struck the lower platform, and he rolled out upon the gravel walk, stunned.

Ralph quickly dragged the man out of the range of the fire and upon the gra.s.s. He tried to arouse Fogg, but was unsuccessful. There was no time to lose. Seizing a half-filled bucket standing by the well near by, Ralph deluged the head of the insensible fireman with its contents. It did not revive him. Ralph sped to the front of the house, ran up on the stoop and jerked at the k.n.o.b of the front screen door.

It was locked, but Ralph tore it open in an instant. A woman's frantic screams echoed as the young railroader dashed into the house. He was quickly up the front stairs. At the top landing he paused momentarily, unable to look about him clearly because of the dense smoke that permeated the place.

Those frenzied screams again ringing out guided him down a narrow hallway to the rear upper bedroom. The furniture in it was just commencing to take fire. On the floor was the fireman's wife, a tiny babe held in one arm, while with the other she was trying unsuccessfully to pull herself out of range of the fire.

"Save me! save me!" she shrieked, as Ralph's form was vaguely outlined to her vision.

"Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Fogg," spoke Ralph quickly--"there's no danger."

He ran to the bed, speedily pulled off a blanket lying there, and wrapped it about the woman.

"Hold the child closely," he directed, and bodily lifted mother and babe in his strong, sinewy arms. The young railroader staggered under his great burden as he made for the hallway, but never was he so glad of his early athletic training as at this critical moment in his life.

It was a strenuous and perilous task getting down the front stairs with his load, but Ralph managed it. He carried mother and child clear out into the garden, placed them carefully on a rustic bench there, and then ran towards the well.

By this time people had come to the scene of the fire. There were two buckets at the well. A neighbor and the young railroader soon formed a limited bucket brigade, but it was slow work hauling up the water, and the flames had soon gained a headway that made their efforts to quench them useless.

Ralph organized the excited onlookers to some system in removing what could be saved from the burning house. In the meantime he had directed a boy to hasten to the nearest telephone and call out the fire department. Soon the clanging bell of the hose cart echoed in the near distance. The rear part of the house had been pretty well burned down by this time, and the front of the building began to blaze.

Ralph got a light wagon from the barn of a neighbor. A comfortable couch was made of pillows and blankets, and Mrs. Fogg and her child were placed on this. Ralph found no difficulty in enlisting volunteers to haul the wagon to his home, where his mother soon had the poor lady and her babe in a condition of safety and comfort. As Ralph returned to the dismantled and still smoking Fogg home he met a neighbor.

"Oh, Fairbanks," spoke this person, "you're in great demand up at the Foggs."

"How is that?"

"Fogg has come to. They told him about your saving his wife and child.

He cried like a baby at first. Then he insisted on finding you. He's blessing you for your n.o.ble heroism, I tell you."

"I don't know about the n.o.ble heroism," returned Ralph with a smile.

"Go back, will you, and tell him I'll see him in about an hour. Tell him to come down to our house at once. It's all arranged there to make him feel at home until he can make other arrangements."

"You're a mighty good fellow, Fairbanks" declared the man enthusiastically, "and everybody knows it!"

"Thank you," returned Ralph, and proceeded on his way. As he casually looked at his watch the young railroader quickened his steps with the half-murmured words:

"And now for a tussle with the master mechanic."

CHAPTER XI

THE MASTER MECHANIC

"Want to resign, do you?"

"That is what I came here for, sir," said the young engineer of No. 999.

"Well, you're too late," and the master mechanic of the Great Northern seemed to turn his back on Ralph, busying himself with some papers on his desk. He was a great, gruff fellow with the heart of a child, but he showed it rarely. A diamond in the rough, most of the employees of the road were afraid of him. Not so Ralph. The young railroader had won the respect and admiration of the official by his loyalty and close attention to duty. In fact, Ralph felt that the influence of the master mechanic had been considerable of an element in his promotion to No. 999. He stepped nearer to the desk, managing to face the would-be tyro.

"Too late, sir?" he repeated vaguely.

"Didn't I say so? Get out!"

The master mechanic waved his hand, and Ralph was a trifle surprised at what seemed a peremptory dismissal. The moving arm of the old railroader described a swoop, grasped the hand of Ralph in a fervent grip, and pulling the young engineer to almost an embrace, he said:

"Fairbanks, we had in our family a little boy who died. It's a pretty tender memory with us, but every time I look at you I think of the dear little fellow. He'd have been a railroader, too, if he had lived, and the fondest wish of my heart is that he might have been like you."

"Why----" murmured the astonished Ralph.

The master mechanic cleared his throat and his great hand swept the moisture from his eyes. Then in a more practical tone he resumed:

"I said you was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Resigning. You are too late," observed the official, "because Lemuel Fogg has already been here."

"Then----"

"To tender his resignation, to tell the whole truthful story of the collision on the siding at Plympton. Fairbanks," continued the master mechanic very seriously, "you are a n.o.ble young fellow. I know your design to bear the whole brunt of the smash-up, in order that you might save your fireman and the station man down at Plympton. As I said, Fogg was here. I never saw a man so broken. He told me everything. He told me of your patience, of your kindness, your manliness. Lad, your treatment of Fogg under those circ.u.mstances shows the mettle in you that will make you a great man, and, what is better still, a good man."

"Thank you, sir," said Ralph in a subdued tone, deeply affected despite himself.

"For the first time in twenty years' service," continued the official, "I am going to take a serious responsibility on myself which should be rightly shouldered by the company. The Plympton incident is dead and buried. The three of us must hold always the secret close. The black mark is rubbed off the slate."

"You have done right--oh, believe me, sir!" declared Ralph earnestly.

"I feel sure that Mr. Fogg has learned a lesson that he will never forget, and the blessings of his sick wife, of his ambitious young daughter, will be yours."

"In my desk yonder," continued the master mechanic, "I have his written pledge that drink is a thing of the past with him. I told Fogg that if ever he disappointed me in my belief that he was a changed man, a reformed man, I would leave the service feeling that my mistaken judgment did not do justice to my position with the Great Northern. As to you, ready to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others--you are a young man among thousands. Drop it now--get out!"

ordered the master mechanic, with a vast show of authority. "It's all under seal of silence, and I expect to see you and Fogg make a great team."

"Mr. Fogg's house has just burned down," said Ralph. "It would have broken him down completely, if his discharge had been added to that misfortune."

"Burned down?" repeated the master mechanic, in surprise and with interest. "How was that?" and Ralph had to recite the story of the fire. He added that he had heard Fogg had but little insurance.

"Wait a minute," directed the official, and he went into the next office. Ralph heard him dictating something to his stenographer. Then the typewriter clicked, and shortly afterwards the master mechanic came into the office with a sheet of foolscap, which he handed to Ralph. A pleased flush came into the face of the young railroader as he read the typewritten heading of the sheet--it was a subscription list in behalf of Lemuel Fogg, and headed by the signature of the master mechanic, with "$20" after it.

"You are a n.o.ble man!" cried Ralph irresistibly. "No wonder it's a joy to work for you."