"Ever hear of Billy Bouncer?"

"I never did."

"Then I'm the first one to enlighten you. When I went out to find a restaurant I pa.s.sed that crowd you see. I noticed that they drew together and scanned me pretty closely. Then I heard one of them say, 'That's not Fairbanks.' 'Yes, it is, didn't he come out of the place we're watching?' said another. 'Aw, let up,' spoke a third voice.

'Billy Bouncer will know, and we don't want to spoil his game. He'll be here soon.'"

"That's strange," said Ralph musingly.

"What are you going to do about it?" inquired Clark.

"Oh, I'm not at all alarmed," replied Ralph, "barely interested, that's all. We'll walk by the crowd and see if they won't throw some further light on the subject."

"Tell you, Fairbanks," said Clark quite seriously, "I'm putting two and two together."

"Well," laughed Ralph, "that makes four--go ahead."

"More than four--a regular mob. That crowd, as I said, for some reason is laying for you. What's the answer? They have been put up to it by some one. You know, you told me incidentally that you had some enemies on account of the big boost you've got in the service. You said, too, that your friend, Engineer Griscom, warned you on just that point. I haven't said much so far, but the actions of that grouch fireman of yours, Fogg, looked decidedly queer and suspicious to me."

Ralph made no comment on this. He had his own ideas on the subject, but did not feel warranted in fully expressing them.

"I believe that Fogg started out on your run yesterday to queer it.

Why he changed tactics later, I can't tell. Maybe he was scared by the smash-up on the siding. Anyhow, I never saw such mortal malice in the face of any man as that I saw in his when I came aboard No. 999. This crowd down the street is evidently after you. Some one has put them up to it."

"Oh, you can't mean Fogg!" exclaimed Ralph.

"I don't know," replied Clark.

"I can't believe that he would plot against me that far," declared Ralph.

"A malicious enemy will do anything to reach his ends," said Clark.

"Doesn't he want you knocked out? Doesn't he want your place? What would suit his plans better than to have you so mauled and battered, that you couldn't show up for the return trip to Stanley Junction this afternoon? Are you going past that crowd?"

"I certainly shall not show the white feather by going out of my way,"

replied Ralph.

"Well, if that's your disposition, I'm at your call if they tackle us," announced Clark.

They proceeded down the street, and Ralph as they advanced had a good view of the crowd, which, according to the views of his companion, was laying in wait for him. There were about fifteen of them, ranging from selfish-faced lads of ten or so up to big, hulking fellows of twenty. They represented the average city gang of idlers and hoodlums.

They were hanging around the entrance to the alley as if waiting for some mischief to turn up. Ralph noticed a rustling among them as he was observed. They grouped together. He fancied one or two of them pointed at him, but there was no further indication of belligerent attention as he and Clark approached nearer to the crowd.

"I fancy Billy Bouncer, whoever he is, hasn't arrived yet," observed Clark.

Just then one of the mob set up a shout.

"Hi there, Wheels!" he hailed, and some additional jeers went up from his fellows. Their attention seemed directed across the street, and Ralph and Clark glanced thither.

CHAPTER V

AT BAY

A queer-looking boy about eighteen years of age was proceeding slowly down the pavement. He was stockily built, and had an unusually ma.s.sive head and great broad shoulders. He was a boy who would be remarked about almost anywhere. His hair was long, and this gave him a somewhat leonine aspect.

The hat of this boy was pushed far back on his head, and his eyes were fixed and his attention apparently deeply absorbed upon an object he held in his hand. This was a thin wooden rod with two cardboard wheels attached to it. These he would blow, causing them to revolve rapidly.

Then he would study their gyrations critically, wait till they had run down, and then repeat the maneuver.

His side coat pockets were bulging, one with a lot of papers. From the other protruded what seemed to be a part of a toy, or some real mechanical device having also wheels in its construction.

"Well, there's a queer make-up!" observed Clark in profound surprise.

"He is certainly eccentric in his appearance," said Ralph. "I wonder who he can be."

"No, what he can be," corrected Clark, "for he's an odd genius of some kind, I'll wager."

The object of their interest and curiosity had heard the derisive hail from across the street. He halted dead short, stared around him like a person abruptly aroused from a dream, traced the call to its source, thrust the device with which he had been experimenting into his pocket, and fixing his eyes on his mockers, started across the street.

The hoodlum crowd nudged one another, blinked, winked, and looked as if expecting developments of some fun. The object of their derision looked them over in a calculating fashion.

"Did any one here speak to me?" he asked.

"No, Wheels--it was the birdies calling you!" hooted a jocose voice.

"You sort of suggest something, somehow," drawled the lad in an abstracted, groping way. "Yes, certainly, let me see. What is it? Ah, perhaps I've made a memorandum of it."

The lad poked into several vest pockets. Finally he unearthed a card which seemed to be all written over, and he ran his eye down this. The crowd chuckled at the profound solemnity of his manner.

"H'm," observed the boy designated as "Wheels." "Let me see. 'Get shoes mended.' No, that isn't it. I have such a bad memory. 'Order some insulated wire.' No, that's for an uptown call. 'Buy Drummond on Superheated Steam.' That's for the bookstore. Ah, here we have it.

'Kick Jim Scroggins.' Who's Jim? Aha! you young villain, I remember you well enough now," and with an activity which could scarcely be antic.i.p.ated from so easy-going an individual, Wheels made a dive for a big hulking fellow on the edge of the crowd. He chased him a few feet, and planted a kick that lifted the yelling hoodlum a foot from the ground. Then, calmly taking out a pencil, he crossed off the memorandum--"Kick Jim Scroggins"--gave the crowd a warning glance, and proceeded coolly down the sidewalk, resuming his occupation with the contrivance he had placed in his pocket.

The gang of loafers had drawn back. A sight of the ma.s.sive arms and sledge hammer fists of the young giant they had derided, and his prompt measures with one of their cronies, dissuaded them from any warlike move.

"Whoop!" commented Clark in an exultant undertone, and he fairly leaned against his companion in a paroxysm of uncontrollable laughter.

"Quick, nifty and entertaining, that! Say Engineer Fairbanks, I don't know who that fellow Wheels is, but I'd be interested and proud to make his acquaintance. Now steam up and air brake ready, while we pa.s.s the crossing!"

"Pa.s.sing the crossing," as Clark designated it, proved, however, to be no difficult proceeding. The crowd of hoodlums had got a set-back from the boy with the piston-rod arm, it seemed. They scanned Ralph and Clark keenly as they pa.s.sed by, but made no attempt to either hail or halt them.

"We've run the gauntlet this time," remarked Clark. "h.e.l.lo--four times!"

The vigilant companion of the young engineer was glancing over his shoulder as he made this sudden and forcible remark.

"Four times what?" inquired Ralph.

"That fireman of yours."

"Mr. Fogg?"