y Junction. Posed as he had posed many
times in the past when he was firing at a mark, with all his skill, he
calculated aim, distance and fling. The bull's eye target was the
lantern pendant from the arm of the semaphore.

One--failed! the missile missed its intended mark.

Two--a ringing yell of delight, of hope, of triumph rang from the lips
of the young engineer. The skillfully-aimed projectile had struck the
glass of the signal, shivering it to atoms. The wind and rain did the
rest. Out went the light.

A sharp whistle from No. 38, the hiss of the air brakes, and panting
and exhausted, the young engineer of No. 999 watched the Night
Express whiz by on a lessening run and come to a stop two hundred
yards away.

Ralph dashed after the train, now halted beyond the trestle. He did
not heed the shout of the brakeman already out on the tracks, but got
up to the locomotive just as the conductor, lantern in hand, reached
it.

"Hello!" shot out the engineer of No. 38, staring at the figure
outlined within the halo of the conductor's light--"Fairbanks!"

"Why, so it is!" exclaimed the conductor, and it was easy for him to
discern from Ralph's sudden appearance and breathless manner that he
had some interest, if not an active part, in the mysterious
disappearance of the semaphore signal. "What is it, Fairbanks?"

Very hurriedly Ralph explained. The engineer of No. 38 uttered a low
whistle, meantime regarding the active young railroader, whom he well
knew, with a glance of decided admiration. Then as hurried were the
further movements of the conductor.

Within a very few minutes a brakeman was speeding back to Widener to
inform the man on duty there of the condition of affairs. He returned
to report the situation in safe official control all up and down the
line. In the meantime No 38. had moved up to the scene of the wreck.
This was done at the suggestion of Ralph, who did not know how the
passengers in the special coach might have fared. Arrived at the
scene, however, it was soon learned that two men only had been thrown
from their beds and slightly bruised. The rest of the passengers were
only shaken up.

The frightened passengers were huddled up, drenched to the skin, at
the side of the gap, for Fogg had insisted on their taking no risk
remaining in the derailed coach.

"We're stalled for three hours," decided the engineer of No. 38.

"Yes, and more than that, if the wrecking gang is not at Virden, as we
sup