CHAPTER XVII

The Passionate Pilgrim

Ralph Marshall’s pilgrimage was in vain. When he reached the place where the men had been in hiding, every trace of them had disappeared. He might have thought that he had made a mistake in the spot, except that there were marks on the ground where the camp fire had been, and he clearly remembered the circle of small hills.

After remaining in the neighborhood for half an hour or more and seeing no human being, Ralph knew that his task was not to be so easily accomplished. But he had no inclination to return and loiter about his hotel. Even failure was better than boredom, and the last few days had been intensely dull. Ralph was weary of sightseeing and seldom took an interest in viewing things alone. He was no longer friendly with Terry Benton and Howard Brent, whose expressed opinions of him had not been flattering. And, in spite of Peggy’s generosity, he felt himself cut off from the companionship of the Camp Fire girls.

Perhaps Ralph did not realize it, but the fact was that he did not care for the society of the other girls, now that Peggy’s was denied him.

Moreover, even if it were but slight, an ambition had been stirred in him by Mrs. Burton. Actually he wanted to succeed in what she had asked him to do. Rarely in his life had he been stirred by this emotion, except perhaps by the desire to win a game of tennis, or be elected to some special college fraternity.

Getting on his burro again, Ralph started off in another direction. He knew that he was traveling toward the line of railroad and supposed he would find more signs of life there. Certainly he could not discover less. It was also possible that he might run across some one who would have known of the dissatisfied men and might at least offer a suggestion as to what had become of them.

Of course, in finding the strikers one would not necessarily obtain information of Billy Webster’s proceedings. But, so long as one was under the impression that he might be spending his time in their society, they must first be hunted out. Afterwards, if Billy were not with them, then one could pursue some other idea.

After reaching the railroad line, Ralph jogged along on the road that ran alongside of it.

The road had been cut through somewhat more open country, nevertheless he met no one in passing. At present it was past noon, but, although Ralph was usually fond of his own comfort, it had not yet occurred to him that his prospect for food was a very poor one.

Then, half an hour later, when he was not in the least expecting to reach any such place, Ralph came upon a railroad station. There was a small frame building beside a platform and near it a typical western grocery store, which means that it held a great many other things beside groceries.

Ralph was feeling tired and a little hungry. If he was to continue riding about the country all day in this vague fashion, it would be as well to secure food for himself when he could. There was never yet a country store without cheese and crackers.

Ralph tied his pony to the hitching post and strolled up to the door of the store. The door was partly open and he could see a man inside who was probably a customer, as he did not appear to be the proprietor, and was talking with some one.

Ralph walked in and the man stopped talking. He was smoking a short pipe and looked curiously at the newcomer. Ralph’s appearance was a surprise. He looked so exactly like the old-fashioned western phrase which described the Eastern youth as a “tenderfoot.” Ralph’s riding costume was too new, too clean and too fashionable ever to have seen real service. But he knew how to make himself acceptable to most people.

He bowed a curt but friendly nod to the other man as he moved up toward the counter.

“I am a stranger in this part of the country,” he announced, “and I have been riding all morning. I wonder if you can let me eat a little something here?”

The grocery keeper was friendly enough and began shoving out the various supplies that the newcomer had asked for, conscious of the fact that he was a good customer.

Then Ralph climbed up on a stool and began eating his lunch and drinking ginger ale out of the glass bottle. He was enjoying himself a good deal more than he had at many a fashionable luncheon served at an expensive hotel.

By and by he turned to the other man who had not left the store.

“I wonder if you would have a bite with me?” he suggested. “I never did like having to eat alone.”

The man hesitated and then came forward.

“Don’t care if I do,” he answered in a somewhat surly fashion, but Ralph observed that he ate hungrily, and they had to have the supplies renewed a second time.

When they had finished they both strolled out of the store together and, without any discussion of the matter, sat down beside each other on the railroad platform. Each man looked as if he had no other interest or occupation in life except just to wait until a train passed by.

“There isn’t much excitement in this neighborhood, is there?” Ralph finally said.

His companion stared straight ahead of him.

“Oh, you can’t sometimes always tell just by the outside looks of things.”

Ralph hesitated a moment.

“Been any fun lately?” he inquired.

The man shook his head.

“Not much; nothing except some fellows been trying to blow up the track out this way. I’m on the lookout for them for the railroad, as I’m one of the company’s men.”

“Who are they and what is the matter?” Ralph asked, trying to show no especial interest beyond a perfectly natural one.

But his companion showed no sign of wishing to be secretive.

“Don’t know,” he returned. “If I did, I’d have had them out of mischief before this. There has been a gang of strikers hanging around somewhere in this neighborhood—no one knows the exact place. But there is no reason for suspecting them, except that they are down on the company. Funny, I’ve been watching around here for several days and haven’t even run across anybody to talk to before! At least no one but a boy who looked like he ought to be home with his mother.”

Ralph laughed.

“A kind of a tenderfoot like I am?”

The other man grinned.

“Oh, he was a good deal younger than you. We have so many travelers from the East out in this neighborhood now, that we have forgotten to call ’em ‘tenderfeet.’ This boy was a kid—a real kid—tall and sick looking, with light hair and blue eyes and nice manners.”

Ralph nodded.

“Funny, what was he doing around here? There is no hotel very near, is there?”

The older man shook his head.

“Not for several miles back. The boy said he was out here for his health and kind of liked to stay by himself. He said he would keep his eyes open for me. But he was a dreamy kind of kid. I don’t believe he would know trouble if he saw it.”

Ralph whistled.

“I don’t believe he would. Seen him lately?”

“This morning early.”

“Think he’ll come back this way?”

The man had refilled his pipe and was smoking.

“How’d I know?” he returned. “I ain’t seen him any time, except one or two mornings.”

The man then got up and stretched himself.

“Well, so long; I can’t waste any more time around here, much as I’d like to stay and talk. I’ve got to get up and down the track a piece. I wish you would keep an eye open on your way back.”

“Certainly,” Ralph answered, “only I’m not going back just yet. I am kind of tired and I thought I’d sit here awhile and rest.”

The two men nodded and the older one walked away.

Ralph waited for two hours. Then, as the man in the grocery store was beginning to look suspicious, he got up and strolled about. In the meantime the station master had reappeared, after having spent some time at his own midday meal.

Ralph tried to give him the impression that he was expecting some one on the next train.

But between four and five o’clock his patience gave out. It was either this, or he had lost all hope of Billy Webster’s returning the way he had evidently gone, not only this morning, but on several others.

Ralph then made up his mind to ask Mrs. Burton to allow him to remain all night at Sunrise camp.

The wanderer should not disappear the next day without his seeing him go.