"No, Fairbanks," dissented Slavin stubbornly. "I want those medals, or I want their hides. I'm not a good enough Salvationer just yet to forgive those villains. I can't wipe them off the slate till I've had one last round with them."
Gasper Farrington had completed the switch spur to the factory. Ralph learned that he had invited a heavy damage suit by crossing the lot of a poor old invalid widow, who occupied a house next to that where Mrs. Davis had formerly lived.
He heard a good many comments on this last act of the selfish, tyrannical magnate. There was some current criticism, too, as to his going on the bonds of the idle scapegrace, Ike Slump. Farrington pretended that he had bailed out Ike because his father was an old acquaintance. Ralph knew better, but held his peace. He had faith that the real truth would come out, sooner or later.
With entire confidence in Van Sherwin, he believed that he would soon receive some word from that good friend to show he had been quietly working in the dark all this time.
About five o'clock one afternoon a barefooted urchin Ralph did not know by name came up the switch tower ladder. Ralph was alone, but expected Knight to relieve him at five o'clock.
"Say," projected the frowsy-headed lad, staring curiously around the place, "you Mr. Fairbanks?"
"That's right, my little man," answered Ralph.
"Say, you know Mr. Stiggs?"
"Slightly," nodded Ralph, with a smile.
"Well, he sent me here. He said to fetch a message to you."