Bob Chester's Grit/Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI
FAIRFAX AT LAST
Elated by the capture and identification of the would-be train-robbers, the officers made much of Bob, praising him for remaining to listen until he had heard the dastardly plot, and commenting on the good fortune which had placed him just where the tramps were.
Modestly Bob bore the words of commendation, for his mind was on other matters, as the question he asked evidenced:
"How long before the train arrives that will take me to Fairfax?"
"I'm afraid it will be several days before you can go, Bob," answered one of the officers.
"Why?" demanded the boy, disappointment evident in his voice and on his face.
"Because it will be necessary for you to appear in court in order to convict the prisoners."
"But I don't see why you need me," protested Bob. "I told what I had heard and then pointed out the man who said he wanted to get even."
"That's just it, son. You are the only one who overheard the conversation and can identify the ringleader."
"Don't look so unhappy," chimed in another officer. "Kansas City is a pretty good town, and we'll give you the time of your life. Theatres and picture-shows, you know. The road will probably do something handsome for you. Anyhow, you'll have good living until it is necessary to come back here to testify."
But even the prospect of going to a theatre—a treat Bob had never enjoyed while with his guardian—failed to appease him, and his usually cheerful expression gave way to one of resigned gloom.
Noting this, and desirous of restoring the boy's good spirits, an officer suggested:
"Let's go over to Kansas City. How'd you like that, Bob?"
"First rate. Then I can get my pass again." And at the prospect of regaining possession of the precious piece of paper, he grew more cheerful.
While the detectives were making ready to start, two of their fellows, who had accompanied the prisoners to the jail, rushed in, exclaiming almost at the same time:
"We've got the case clinched! One of the four has confessed!"
Just what this meant, Bob did not know, but the news seemed to please the officers so greatly that their good spirits infected him.
"How'd you work it? Where's the confession? Let's read it!" exclaimed the detectives who had remained at the station.
"One at a time," laughed the chief of the force. "The confession is here," and he tapped his coat pocket. "It bears out exactly what our friend Bob told us."
"But how did you get it?" persisted the others.
"Promised the fellow who was most scared by his arrest a light sentence if he'd turn witness against his pals. And say, he jumped at the chance."
"Well, you are in luck, Bob!" declared the officer who had striven to cheer him up.
"Why?" inquired the boy.
"Because now you won't be obliged to wait for the trial. This confession and the evidence of the man will do the trick for us."
"Whoopee!" cried Bob, dancing about in delight. "Then I can start for Fairfax to-night?"
"Just as soon as a through train comes."
This information restored Bob's good spirits, and eagerly he boarded the special car which was waiting to take the detectives back to Kansas City.
As the officers discussed the incidents of the capture, one of them turned to the boy and said:
"Say, you surely are a regular bunch of luck, kid! I'd like to take you out to the gold regions. I bet you'd tumble into some abandoned mine that would be worth millions!"
Every one laughed at this comment upon Bob's good fortune, and the chief added:
"I hope it sticks by him. He'll need all the luck he has if any of those Oklahoma cowboys start in to have fun with him."
"I guess I will," smiled Bob. "Anyhow, a few knocks won't hurt me. Mr. Perkins told me all I must look out for was to keep away from the saloon and gambling dens and not to make friends too quickly."
"Well, if you follow his advice, you'll get along all right."
Upon the arrival of the special car at Kansas City, the officers were met by a messenger with instructions to have Bob taken to the offices of the railroad company, as the vice-president wished to talk with him.
"There's more of your luck," commented the chief: "Mr. Nichols will probably give you a reward."
Bob, however, was more concerned about regaining possession of his pass and ascertaining when his train would leave than in speculation as to whether or not he would be rewarded, and he made no bones about saying so.
"Never mind the pass, now," returned the messenger, who was to escort him to the vice-president's office. "We'll get that in plenty of time so you won't miss your train."
Thus reassured, Bob turned to the detectives, saying:
"Good-bye, if I don't see you again."
"Oh, you'll see me," replied the chief. "I shall have you make a deposition to support the confession."
And amid wishes for the best of success, Bob and the messenger set out for the company's offices.
Direct to the vice-president's rooms Bob was taken.
As the messenger entered with him, a tall, gray-haired man arose from a desk and came forward with outstretched hand, announcing:
"I am Mr. Nichols, and I'm glad to know you, Bob."
For a moment the official gazed earnestly at the honest face before him, then continued:
"There's no use telling you that I and every man who works for our railroad is grateful to you for enabling us to catch the would-be train-robbers. You know that. I want you to tell me how we can reward you."
"I wasn't thinking of any reward, Mr. Nichols," answered Bob. "Mr. Perkins has been so kind to me that when I heard those bad men planning to stop the train, I only thought of repaying his kindness by preventing them if I could."
At these manly words, which showed that Bob was possessed with gratitude, in addition to his other good qualities, the vice-president again shook his hand cordially, exclaiming:
"You've got the right stuff in you, Bob. I'll let Perkins hear what you said. And now, sit down, and tell me all about your trip, beginning at New York."
Amazed that so important a man should evince interest enough in him to devote the time necessary to relate his story, Bob sank into the comfortable chair indicated by Mr. Nichols and began.
At first he was embarrassed, but with the kindly words now and then uttered by the vice-president, he regained his composure.
When the recital was ended, Mr. Nichols thrummed upon his desk for several minutes, and then asked:
"What would you like most in the world, Bob?"
Scarcely hesitating an instant, the boy replied:
"To prove that Len Dardus did not tell the truth when he said my father was crazy because father wrote me he had entrusted five thousand dollars to him for my education."
The expression that spread over Mr. Nichols* face as he heard this wish clearly showed surprise, for he had expected that, boy-like, Bob would have requested money, a rifle, or the like, and again he thrummed the table before saying:
"We will prove it, if we can, my boy. What was your father's name?"
"Horace Chester."
"Where was your letter written from—I mean the one telling you of the money?"
"Red Top, Oklahoma."
Swinging in his chair, the vice-president drew out a slide from his desk on which was a map and scanned it eagerly.
All at once, with an ejaculation of surprise, he murmured:
"This is remarkable—remarkable!"
Unable to restrain his curiosity, Bob rose from his chair and approached till he could see the map. But this afforded him no reason for his friend's observation, and he asked:
"What is remarkable, sir?"
"Why, that you should have chosen to go to Fairfax. Red Top is the next town, thirty miles west!"
"O—oh! Then I may find out something about father!" exclaimed Bob excitedly.
"Exactly. But you must be careful. If he really had the money, he may have possessed other property which is being withheld from you. In that case, should the interested persons learn that Horace Chester's son was in Fairfax something might happen to you."
The last words were uttered so significantly that Bob could not fail to understand Mr. Nichols' meaning, and when the latter continued, "I want you to promise me you will call yourself Bob Nichols fill I have learned the truth of this matter," the boy solemnly consented.
"Good! Not only is it for your own safety, but it will enable you to investigate quietly without arousing suspicion.
"This will be our secret, Bob. You must not tell a soul, not even Mr. Perkins."
"I won't, sir."
Realizing from Bob's expression that he had aroused sad thoughts and memories, the vice-president stood up and said:
"Now that we have made this agreement, we will dismiss it from our minds for the present. I want you to come to dinner and the theatre with me."
"But my pass and the train?" exclaimed Bob.
"Your train, or rather the limited, on which I shall send you, does not leave until eleven. I'll send for your pass now." And, pressing a button, he ordered the clerk who responded to fetch Bob's pass.
This done, Mr. Nichols was signing some papers when word was brought that the chief of detectives wished to take Bob's deposition.
"Have them come in here," replied the official, and in due course the lawyer, notary and detective arrived.
Briefly Bob told his story, signed it, and solemnly swore to its truth.
"And now we'll forget all trouble and have a good time," announced Mr. Nichols. "Give this note to the cashier, chief. Take Bob's pass from the messenger and meet us at the limited at eleven. Bob and I are going to the theatre."
To the boy, it seemed as though he were in fairy-land. First Mr. Nichols took him to a store, bought him a new suit and a complete outfit of shirts and clothes, had Bob don some of them, then purchased a trunk, ordered the things packed in it and sent to the station, finally taking Bob for a drive about the city.
At first Bob had protested, but the vice-president silenced him by saying that the service he had rendered the railroad was worth much more than the clothes.
Dinner and theatre were one whirl of pleasure to the boy. And after he had been put in care of the conductor of the limited, had bidden good-bye to Mr. Nichols and the detectives, who all gathered to see him off, bringing various little presents, and the train was in motion, he sat and pondered over the series of events.
But his surprises were not ended, for when he opened the envelope containing his pass, he found two crisp fifty-dollar bills pinned to a card, which said:
"For Bob Chester, with the compliments of the Great Western Railroad."
Nature, however, asserted herself at last, and Bob went to sleep.
Interesting because of its novelty, the journey proceeded without further incidents, and in due course Bob reached Fairfax.