"I think you can," answered Slump. "You know Ike and his associates, and maybe you can get track of their hang-out. I can't. Fairbanks," and the man's voice broke, "it's killing my wife! It's a lot to ask of you, under the circumstances, but Forgan says you seem to have a knack of doing everything right. I want you to find my boy--I want you to try to prevail on him to come home. Will you?"
Ralph was a good deal moved as he thought of the stricken mother. He had small hopes of Ike Slump--smaller than ever, as he considered the manner of man his father was, but he answered promptly:
"I'll try, Mr. Slump."
[CHAPTER XVIII--A NAME TO CONJURE BY?]
Big Denny came to where Ralph was putting the finishing touches to one of the fast runners of the road about ten o'clock one morning.
Nobody in the world enjoyed talk and gossip like the veteran watchman, as Ralph well knew, and it really pleased him to have his company, for among the driftwood of all his desultory confidences Denny usually produced some point interesting or enlightening.
On this especial occasion there was a zest to the old watchman's greeting of the young railroader that indicated he had something of more than ordinary interest to impart.
"By the way, Fairbanks," he observed, "I saw that rich old hunks, Farrington, this morning. He was down here."
"At the roundhouse, you mean?" inquired Ralph, with some interest.
"Well, not exactly. He was over by the switch towers, met Forgan, and had quite a talk with him. Thought I'd post you."