r?"

"I haven't the heart to order any man on a run a night like this,"
responded the official, "but if you mean it----"

"Fairbanks," shot out the fireman, all fire and energy, "I'll get 999
ready for your orders," and he was out into the roundhouse after the
foreman in a flash.

"Mr. Grant, you're taking a long chance," suggested the division
superintendent, coming up to where the president and Ralph stood.

"Yes, and it must be any chances, Fairbanks," said the official. He
was becoming more and more excited each succeeding minute. "I'm too
old a railroader not to know what the run means. If you start, no
flinching. It's life or death to the Mountain Division, what you do
this night."

"The Mountain Division?" repeated Ralph, mystified.

"Yes. It's an official secret, but I trusted you once. I can trust you
now." Mr. Grant drew a folded paper from his pocket. "The president of
the Midland Central is on the Night Express, returning from the west.
The document I show you must be signed before he reaches the city,
before midnight, or we lose the right to run over the Mountain
Division. If he once reaches the city, interests adverse to the Great
Northern will influence him to repudiate the contract, which only
awaits his signature to make it valid. He will sign it if I can
intercept him. Can you make Shelby Junction, ninety miles away, in
two hours and fifteen minutes?"

"I will make Shelby Junction ahead of the Night Express," replied
Ralph calmly, but with his heart beating like a triphammer, "or I'll
go down with 999."

CHAPTER XXVIII

A RACE AGAINST TIME

There was a thrill and fervor to the present situation that appealed
to Ralph mightily. The brisk, animated procedure of the president of
the Great Northern had been one of excitement and interest, and at its
climax the young engineer found himself stirred up strongly.

Mr. Grant smiled slightly at Ralph's valiant declaration. He drew the
division superintendent aside in confidential discourse, and Ralph
went to the bulletin board and began studying the routeing of the
Shelby division. Then he hurried out into the roundhouse.

No. 999 was steamed up quickly. Ralph put the cab in rapid order for a
hard run. The foreman hurried back to his office and telephoned to the
yards. When No. 999 ran out on the turntable it was the foreman
himself who opened the ponderous outside doors.

"It's some weather," observed Fogg, as the giant locomotive swung