Certainly Ralph decided the Dover & Springfield Short Line had its headquarters in a particularly isolated place, and its presentation of physical resources was limited.
"I never heard of that road before," observed Ralph.
"Probably not," answered his host--"you will hear of it, though, and others, in the near future."
Ralph did not attach much importance to the prediction. He had seen at a glance that Gibson was an erratic individual, his hermit life had probably given birth to some visionary ideas, and his railroad, simmered down to the tangible, had undoubtedly little real foundation outside of his own fancies and dreams.
Ralph changed his mind somewhat, however, as he crossed the threshold of the door, for he stood in the most remarkable apartment he had ever entered.
This was a long, low room with a living space at one end, but the balance of the place had the unmistakable characteristics of a depot and railway office combined.
In fact it was the most "railroady" place Ralph had ever seen. Its walls were rude and rough, its furniture primitive and even grotesque, but everything harmonized with the idea that this was the center of an actual railroad system in operation.
There were benches as if for passengers. In one corner with a grated window was a little partitioned off space labeled "President's Office." Hanging from a strap were a lot of blank baggage checks, on the walls were all kinds of railroad timetables, and painted on a board running the entire width of the room were great glaring black letters on a white background, comprising the announcement: "Dover & Springfield Short Line Railroad."
To complete the presentment, many sheets of heavy manilla paper formed one entire end of the room, and across their surface was traced in red and black paint a zigzag railway line.
One terminal was marked "Dover," the other "Springfield." There were dots for minor stations, crosses for bridges and triangles for water tanks.