# Bob Chester's Grit/Chapter 13
#### CHAPTER XIII
##### BOB STARTS AGAIN

Bob's lusty shouts, as he vainly tried to stop the train, drew the attention of the few employees in the station at so early an hour, and they gathered about him, taking mental stock of his worn clothes and his honest face, as they approached.
"What's the matter? Nobody here to meet you?" asked one of the men, on whose hat were the words, "Station Master."
"This isn't a very convenient hour to meet any one. Where do your people live? We can direct you how to get to them."
Not having heard the words uttered by Bob, the agent's inference that the boy was disappointed at finding no one to meet him, was natural. But Bob soon disillusioned him.
"The train's gone and left me," said he, with ever so slight a shakiness in his voice, as he thought of the train speeding on its way and with it his precious pass.
"Well, there are other trains," declared a second man. "You can take the next one."
​The quaver in Bob's voice, however, had reached the ears of the station master, and he asked kindly:
"How far were you going?"
"To Fairfax, Oklahoma."
With the evident purpose of reassuring Bob, the station master said:
"Oh, well, it will only make the difference of twelve hours or so in reaching Fairfax. There's another train goes through at four o'clock this afternoon."
"It isn't the delay I mind," returned Bob, "but the conductor has my pass!"
"You travelling on a pass?" exclaimed another incredulously, as though unable to reconcile Bob's shabby apparel with the possession of such a privileged means of transportation.
"My, that is bad," mused the station master. "But don't worry. I'll have word telegraphed to the conductor to leave your pass with the agent at Kansas City, and you can get it there. Come with me, and we'll see about sending the message."
"But how shall I get to Kansas City without any ticket?" asked Bob, as he accompanied his new-found friend into the station. "I only have a few dollars, which I shall need when I get to Fairfax. I suppose it would cost a lot to buy a ticket?"
​"If you had a pass, it won't be necessary for you to pay. I'll arrange that all right."
Randolph, the city in which Bob was marooned, being a division headquarters of the railway, there was a train despatcher's office in the station, and thither the agent led Bob.
Going over to one of the telegraphers, the station master explained the situation briefly.
"What do you want me to wire? Jenkins is the conductor, isn't he?"
"Yes. Say, 'Jenkins, Aboard No. 6: Leave'," and then he turned to the boy, asked his name, and continued: "'Bob Chester's pass with the ticket agent at Kansas City. Will send Bob on the next train. Robinson, "'Station Master, Randolph.'"
Scarcely had the operator forwarded the message than he suddenly leaned over his instrument, listened intently, and then exclaimed:
"I'll bet Jenkins will be glad to get your wire about the boy. Was there any trouble about the pass?" and he looked at Bob.
"Yes," responded the youth, and told them about the conductor's suspicions. "But why did you ask?"
"Because I caught a message going to Jenkins from Chicago."
"It said the pass was all right, didn't it?" queried Bob anxiously.
​"It did," replied the operator, with emphasis, "and more, too. Said you were a particular friend of 'Old Man' Perkins, and advised Jenkins to treat you well, as one man had got into trouble through being uncivil to you."
"But I made that all right; at least, I wrote a note asking Mr. Perkins to take the porter back again," answered Bob innocently.
The overheard message had a salutary effect upon both the operator and agent, and they took a new interest in the boy who was a protégé of the railroad president.
After asking Bob about the incident of the parlor car, they told him to make himself comfortable, and when he felt hungry to let them know.
"I could eat now," smiled Bob, his troubles vanished.
"Then I'll have one of my men go with you to a restaurant just up the street a little way."
"You're very kind, but I can go alone," replied Bob.
"I don't doubt it," laughed the station master. "But, after that wire from Chicago to Jenkins, I don't want anything to happen to you while I am responsible.
"Hey, Tom," he called to one of the trainmen, "take this boy up to Sweeney's, and see that he has a good feed."
In that mysterious manner in which news ​travels, word had been passed of the instructions to Jenkins, and the man hailed as Tom gladly accepted his task, saying:
"Come on, Bob. When you've tasted Sweeney's wheat cakes, you'll always remember Randolph."
"I think I'll remember it, anyway," smiled Bob, as he set out for the restaurant with his guide.
Bob's appetite had not been in the least impaired by the unpleasant experience through which he had passed, and he ate three plates of griddle cakes.
"My, but those cakes sure were good," he observed, smacking his lips with relish.
His companion, with good-natured patience, had watched the boy eat, and, as Bob expressed his approval of Sweeney's food, he said:
"Better have another plate. You'll never get any cakes quite as good as Sweeney's till you get back to Randolph."
Though with evident reluctance, Bob declined, and, after paying for the meal, they returned to the station.
By the time of their arrival, more trainmen were on duty, and to each the story of Bob's getting left had been told.
As a result, when they saw the boy, they smiled at him, and proffered good-natured comments.
​"Feel less hungry, now?" asked the station master, as Tom and Bob entered his office.
"Yes, thank you," replied the latter. "Sweeney surely can cook griddle cakes! I wish he lived out in Fairfax."
"Take him along," laughed Tom, "and start in business. All Sweeney needs is a flame to cook on, and the fixin's."
While they were talking, one of the telegraph operators came in, with a despatch for the agent.
"Here's Jenkins' answer," said he, holding out the sheet of yellow paper.
Taking it, the station master read aloud:
   "Robinson, Randolph: Will leave pass as instructed. Square me with the boy, if you can. Buy him all he wants to eat, and I'll settle.
   "Jenkins."
At the words proclaiming the conductor's evident anxiety over how Bob felt toward him, they all laughed.
"It'll do Jenkins good to worry a little," commented Tom. Then, as an idea occurred to him, he struck his thigh, and exclaimed: "I say, Jenkins is an awful miser. Let's put up a joke on him. We'll take a dozen of the boys, have a feed at Sweeney's, and charge it to Jenkins."
​"That's the idea! Great! Fine!" were some of the remarks that greeted the suggestion.
But on Bob's face there was a look of doubt, as he said:
"I don't think that would be exactly fair, would it?"
"Why not?" asked several.
"Because Mr. Jenkins would know I couldn't eat so much."
Tom, however, was loath to abandon his joke, and argued:
"But he said for Robinson to square him with you, didn't he?"
"Why, yes."
"Then, Robinson can tell him the feed for the dozen of us was the only way he could do it."
Though he did not wish to be a spoil-sport, Bob, however, did not approve of the plan. Consequently, it was with relief he beheld a large, red-faced man, in overalls and jumper, enter the station master's office, exclaiming as he caught sight of the boy:
"Are you the kid Conductor Jenkins left here?"
"Yes, sir."
"How'd you like to go over to Kansas City on my freight train?"
"First-rate. I never rode on a freight, and I'd like to."
​"You'll never want to again," commented Tom. "What'll become of our feed if you go?"
"Oh, we can have it, just the same," returned another.
Bob, however, was too engrossed with the prospect of riding on a freight train, to overhear the remark.
At first, the station master had thought to protest against letting his charge go, but, as he noticed the boy's eagerness, he said:
"Hosmer, shake hands with Bob Chester. Don't let anything happen to him. He's a special friend of 'Old Man' Perkins. When you get to Kansas City, take him to the ticket agent, and be sure he gets the pass all right."
"Never fear; I'll stay with him till his train's in, and then introduce him to the conductor. Come on, Bob. Train's waiting."
Quickly saying good-bye to the station master and the others, and thanking them for their kindness, Bob followed the big conductor, and was soon started on his way to Fairfax again, aboard the freight train.