His life and experiences in the strenuous country along the Mexican border had toughened Ralph’s muscles and bronzed his features, and he looked well equipped physically to carry out the confidence expressed in his cool, clear eyes.
“Who are you, anyhow?” the brakeman hurled at him, growing more aggressive as he saw some of his mates running toward him from the head of the long train where the two big Mogul locomotives were thundering impatiently.
“Never mind that for now. Drop that boy and I’ll pay his fare to wherever he wants to go.”
“Well, you are a softy! Pay a tramp’s fare? Let me tell you, mister——”
“Say, going to hold this train all day?” demanded the conductor bustling up. “What’s all this?”
“This kid got on the train in the night some place. Bin ridin’ the blind baggage. I was giving him ‘what for’ when this other kid butts in,” explained the brakeman.
“I said I was willing to pay this boy’s fare rather than see him abused,” struck in Ralph, flushing slightly.
“Well, that’s fair and square,” said the conductor, “so long as he pays his fare, that’s all I care. But I ain’t goin’ to hold my train. Where d’ye want to go, boy?”
“This is Pine Pass, ain’t it?” demanded the ride stealer, whom the brakeman had now released.