morning. All he was sure of was that he
and Fogg were regulars for No. 999 wherever that locomotive was
assigned, until further orders interfered. Despite the successful
record run to Bridgeport, somebody was listed for at least a
"call-down" on account of the accident on the siding at Plympton.
Every time Ralph thought of that, he recollected his "find" in Lemuel
Fogg's bunker, and his face became grave and distressed.

"It's bound to come out," he reflected, as he strolled into the neat,
attractive garden after breakfast. "Why, Mr. Griscom--I'm glad to see
you."

His old railroad friend was passing the house on his way to the
roundhouse to report for duty. His brisk step showed that he was
limited as to time, but he paused for a moment.

"You got there, Fairbanks, didn't you?" he commented heartily. "Good.
I knew you would, but say, what about this mix-up on the signals at
Plympton?"

"Oh, that wasn't much," declared Ralph.

"Enough to put the master mechanic on his mettle," objected the
veteran engineer. "He's going to call all hands on the carpet. Had me
in yesterday afternoon. He showed me your conductor's report wired
from Bridgeport. It throws all the blame on Adams, the new station man
at Plympton. The conductor declares it was all his fault--'color
blind,' see? Master mechanic had Adams down there yesterday."

"Surely no action is taken yet?" inquired Ralph anxiously.

"No, but I fancy Adams will go. It's a plain case, I think. Your
signals were special and clear right of way, that's sure. Danforth is
ready to swear to that. Adams quite as positively swears that the
green signals on the locomotive were set on a call for the siding. He
broke down and cried like a child when it was hinted that a discharge
from the service was likely."

"Poor fellow, I must see the master mechanic at once," said Ralph.

"You'll have to, for your explanation goes with him and will settle
the affair. You see, it seems that Adams had broken up his old home
and gone to the trouble and expense of moving his family to Plympton.
Now, to be let out would be a pretty hard blow to him. Of course,
though, if he is color blind----"

"He is not color blind!" cried Ralph, with so much earnestness that
Griscom stared at him strangely.

"Aha! so you say that, do you?" observed the old engineer, squinting
his eyes suspiciously. "Then--Fogg. Tricks, I'll bet!"

"I'll talk to you later, Mr. Griscom," said Ralph.

"Good, I want to kn