“Wait a moment,” continued Mr. Grant, taking up an envelope. “I wish you to hand this to Griscom. The Limited Mail will not make any return trip to-night. Instead, a special will be ready for you. You need mention this to no one. That envelope contains sealed orders and is not to be opened until you start on your trip. The superintendent of the road will see you leave and will give you all further instructions needed.”
There was a certain air of mystery to this situation that perplexed Ralph. He reported to Griscom, who took the letter with a curious smile.
“Must be something extra going on down the road,” he observed. “Wonder what? Start after dark, too. Hello, I say—the pay car.”
They had come to the depot to observe an engine, two cars attached, and the superintendent standing on the platform conversing with a man attired in the garb of a fireman.
The latter was a sturdy man of middle age, one of the best firemen on the road, as Ralph knew. He nodded to Griscom and Ralph, while the superintendent said: 138
“Fairbanks, this man will relieve you on the run.”
Ralph looked surprised.
“Why,” he said, “then I am not to go on this trip?”
“Oh, yes,” answered the official with a grim smile,—“that is, if you are willing, but it must be as a passenger.”
Ralph glanced at the passenger coach. Inside were half-a-dozen guards.