ridge, Fairbanks," said the
official. "You can cross the creek some way and use a handcar, if they
have one. Tell the men there I say so. As to your prisoner, I will see
that he is taken care of."

It was just daylight when Ralph reached the switch tower where Griscom
had disappeared. The towerman had just been relieved from duty, and
met Ralph with eager welcome as he was approaching the place.

"Glad to see you," he said. "We just found Griscom."

"Where is he?" inquired Ralph quickly.

"In the tower, all safe and comfortable now, but he had a hard time of
it lying all night in a freight car, gagged and tied. He is fighting
mad, don't understand the affair, and worried to death about you."

"Oh, I am all right," said Ralph.

"I see you are. But what has happened, anyhow? You'll want to tell
Griscom, won't you? Well, I'll go back with you to hear your story,
too."

It was an interesting scene, the meeting of the engineer and the young
fireman. Griscom fretted and fumed over the mishaps to his pet
locomotive. He was furious at the gang who had worked out such
mischief.

"I'll wire my resignation when we reach Stanley Junction," he
declared. "I'll do no more railroad work until I find those scoundrels
and rescue young Trevor."

"Don't be rash, Mr. Griscom," advised Ralph. "The railroad detective
force will soon be on the trail. The nephew of a railroad president
doesn't disappear in this fashion every day in the year."

When they got back to Stanley Junction they were interviewed at once
by Bob Adair. Both were worn out with double duty and got to bed as
quickly as possible.

Ralph reported at the roundhouse late in the afternoon, but learned
that there would be no through trains out until a temporary bridge was
erected over the creek near Dover.

He returned to the house, and was pleased with the thought of having a
social evening at home and a good night's rest.

It was shortly after dark, and Ralph was reading a book in the cozy
sitting room of the home cottage, when the door bell rang.

The young fireman answered the summons. A stranger stood at the
threshold. He was a dignified, well-dressed gentleman, but seemed to
be laboring under some severe mental strain, for he acted nervous and
agitated.

"Mr. Fairbanks--Ralph Fairbanks?" he inquired in a tone of voice that
quivered slightly.

"Yes," replied the young fireman.

"I am very anxious to have a talk with you," said the stranger
hurriedly. "