g. "I fancied to-day's storm would shut up
things."

"It has. We're half clear south, but west and north there isn't a
wheel moving within fifty miles."

"We may as well make the best of it then, Fairbanks," said the
fireman, "and get back to our boarding house."

The speaker started for the door and Ralph followed him. Just then
with a sudden roar of the tempest outside the door was swept open.
Two snow-covered forms came in.

They were men closely muffled up, and they paused for a moment to
shake the snow from their heavy enveloping overcoats. The foreman
stared curiously at the intruders. One of them threw his overcoat
open. Fogg grasped Ralph's arm with a start as he seemed to recognize
the man.

"Hello!" he ejaculated in a sharp half whisper. "What does this mean,
Fairbanks? It's the president of the Great Northern."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE RAILROAD PRESIDENT

As the person Fogg designated pushed back his storm cap and came under
the light of a bracket lamp, Ralph observed that the fireman had been
correct in his surmise--it was Mr. Robert Grant, president of the
road. He busied himself removing the snow from his garments and taking
in the warmth of the place, while his companion came forward to the
doghouse.

Ralph and Fogg drew to one side, curious and interested. They now
recognized the man who had entered the roundhouse with the president
as Lane, superintendent of the Mountain Division of the Great
Northern. His manner was hurried, worried and serious. A big load of
responsibility rested on his official shoulders, and he realized it
and showed it. He nodded brusquely to Ralph and Fogg, and then went up
to the desk where the foreman sat.

"Get the dispatcher's office, Jones, and get it quick," he spoke
tersely, and he added something in an undertone. The foreman gave a
slight start. From the way he turned and stared at the companion of
the superintendent, Ralph could trace that he had just been informed
of his identity.

"Here you are," said the foreman, after a minute at the 'phone and
handing the receiver to the superintendent. The latter, without
seating himself, instantly called over the wire:

"This is Superintendent Lane. I want the chief dispatcher." A pause.
"That you, Martin?--Yes?--Hold the wire. The president of the road
wants to talk with you. Mr. Grant."

Ralph knew the railroad president quite well. It was a long time since
he had seen him. That was at headquarters, after Ra