ized that it wasn't very pleasant working under the
continual menace of enemies plotting in the dark and in a mean,
desperate way. There was nothing for it, however, but to exercise
patience, vigilance and courage.

"They shall never drive me from my post of duty," firmly decided the
young railroader. "I shall neither tire out nor scare out."

Riverton was made on time and with no unpleasant incident to mar a
schedule trip. No. 999 was run to a siding, and Ralph and Fogg had
over two hours on their hands to spend as they chose. They had brought
their lunch, and they dispatched the best part of it in the cab. Mrs.
Fairbanks had put it up in a basket, and a two-quart fruit jar held
the cold coffee. After the repast Fogg fixed the fire and they
strolled down to the depot.

The station agent was an old acquaintance of Ralph. He knew Van
Sherwin, Limpy Joe and the people up at the Short Line railroad, kept
posted on their progress pretty closely, and he had a good deal of
interesting railroad gossip to retail to Ralph.

"Oh, by the way," he observed incidentally, after they had conversed
for some time, "there was a spruce young fellow here this morning
asking very particularly about 999 and her movements. He mentioned
your name too."

"Who was he?" inquired Ralph.

"I never saw him before. He was curious all about your run, hung
around a while and then disappeared. I haven't seen him since."

"Describe him, won't you?" and the station agent did so. Ralph was
sure that the stranger was the youth he had known as Marvin Clark.
From that time on until the train got ready for the return trip, the
young railroader kept his eyes open for a glimpse of his acquaintance
with the double identity. The latter, however, up to the time No. 999
steamed out from Riverton, did not put in an appearance.

"Well, nobody tackled us at Riverton," observed Ralph, as he and Fogg
settled down comfortably to their respective tasks.

"Better not," retorted the fireman keenly. "I just made a little
purchase this morning, and I'm going to stand no fooling," and he
touched his hip pocket meaningly. "Have a swig?" he inquired
additionally, as he reached for the jar of coffee and took a drink.

"Oh, I could feast on my mother's coffee all day," observed Ralph as
the jar was passed to him. "Now, then, you finish it up and hand me
one of those doughnuts."

The little refection seemed to add to the satisfaction of the moment.
Their run was a slow