pparently come into town with a
load to deliver. The wagon was filled with bags of apples. Around the
vehicle was gathered a crowd of boys. Each one of them had his pockets
bulging with the fruit stolen from one of the bags in the wagon.

Standing near by, Jim Evans in their midst, was an idle crowd of
railroad men, enjoying and commenting on the scene.

The farmer's boy was seemingly asleep or unconscious. He had been set
up on the seat by the mob, and one side of his face blackened up.
Apples stuck all over the harness of the horses and on every available
part of the vehicle. A big board lying across the bags had chalked
upon it, "Take One."

The crowd was just about to start this spectacle through the public
streets of Stanley Junction when Ralph appeared. The young fireman
brushed them aside quickly, removed the adornments from the horses and
wagon, sprang to the vehicle, threw the sign overboard, and, lifting
up the unconscious driver, placed him out of view under the wagon
seat. As he did so, Ralph noticed the taint of liquor on the breath of
the country lad.

"Too bad," he murmured to himself. "This doesn't look right--more like
a piece of malice or mischief. Stand back, there!"

Ralph took up the reins, and also seized the whip. Many of the crowd
he had known as school chums, and most of them drew back shamefacedly
as he appeared.

There were four or five regular young loafers, however, who led the
mob. Among them Ralph recognized Ted Evans, a son of the fireman he
had encountered at the roundhouse two days previous. With him was a
fellow named Hemp Gaston, an old associate of Mort Bemis.

"Hold on, there!" sang out Gaston, grabbing the bridles of the horses.
"What you spoiling our fun for?"

"Yes," added Ted Evans, springing to the wagon step and seizing
Ralph's arm. "Get off that wagon, or we'll pull you off."

Ralph swung the fellow free of the vehicle with a vigorous push.

"See here, you interfere with my boy and I'll take a hand in this
affair myself," growled Jim Evans, advancing from the crowd of men.

"You'll whip me first, if you do," answered one of them. "This is a
boys' squabble, Jim Evans, and don't you forget it."

"Humph! he struck my boy."

"Then let them fight it out."

"Yes," shouted young Evans angrily, "come down here and show that you
are no coward."

"Very well," said Ralph promptly. "There's one for you!"

Ralph Fairbanks had acted in a flash on an impulse. He had leap