Van restored the picture to his pocket. He sighed with a glance at the house, as if it would indeed be a pleasure to have a chat with his adopted mother, Mrs. Fairbanks.
"Oh, Ralph!" he said suddenly, checking himself as he was about to move away--"have you ever heard anything more about those twenty thousand dollars railroad bonds?"
"Have I?" spoke Ralph animately; "I seem to be hearing about them every step I take, lately!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes, but always in a vague, unsatisfactory way. What made you ask that question, Van?" inquired Ralph, with a keen glance at his companion.
"Oh, nothing," declared Van carelessly. "I was just thinking, that's all. You see, Mr. Gibson is a rare, good fellow."
"He did me some rare, good service--I know that," said Ralph warmly.
"Well, he's pegging away at that railroad of his, wasting valuable time. He don't dare to leave it, because he might vi--vi--bother the word--oh, yes! vitiate his legal rights. He told me, though, that if he could get someone to put up a few thousand dollars so he could hire help, he would go to some big city and interest capital and rush the road through."
"I will bear that in mind," said Ralph thoughtfully. "I believe he has the nucleus of a big speculation. There are rich men in Stanley Junction who might be induced to help him."
"Suppose you got those twenty thousand dollars bonds, Ralph," said Van suddenly. "Would you be inclined to invest?"