More keenly than ever on this run did Ralph watch for signals. With raised hands he and the fireman at the other side of the cab signaled to each other the nature of the switch targets and semaphore lights as they picked them up.
And now and then, at some dangerous crossing or lonely, empty station, the young engineer caught the secret signal of Mr. Adair’s police—the double flash of an electric torch from the bushes or some other hiding place. The chief detective’s operatives were on hand and faithful to their trust.
This fact reminded Ralph the more keenly of Zeph Dallas. What was he doing? Indeed, where was he and what was his situation on this night when so much seemed at stake?
Fryburg was the first stop. The Midnight Flyer drew in there without a thing having been observed suggesting the nature of the threat of which Ralph had been warned in the paper he had found under his bench.
The night operator at this station ran out and along the side of the train to the locomotive. He reached up a message to Ralph and gave another to the conductor. Under the light near his shoulder Ralph read the following:
Fairbanks, engineman, Train 202:—
Speed up. Fire reported in timber Shadow Valley near tracks.
“Hopkins, Super.”
“That is what it is, then,” said the telegraph operator. “I heard an hour ago that the sky was red over that way. But there has been no report come in from Shadow Valley Station.”
“Reckon the op. can’t see it there any better than you can,” said Ralph. “You know the station is on this slope of the ridge.”
“I like that ‘speed up,’” growled Stilling, who had read the message over Ralph’s shoulder. “Wonder what the Great-I-Am thinks we are?”
“He knows we’re on time, anyway,” said the conductor, and started back along the coaches, calling “All Aboard!”