“What do you suppose this is?” he murmured, drawing out a folded piece of paper.
“A doctor’s prescription?” suggested Ralph grimly.
Zeph gave a look, then uttered a disappointed ejaculation.
“Shucks! Why, it’s only a list of names. Not another thing. Four names. Shucks!”
Ralph held out his hand for the paper and Zeph gave it up, his face screwed into an expression of disappointment.
“It’s a roast for us,” he muttered.
But Ralph made no comment—at first. He read aloud the column of names.
“Lyons, Bertholdt, Mike Ranny, Peters.”
“Do you know ’em?” asked Zeph, with some curiosity.
“Perhaps. I know Mike Ranny. He has a brother Bob. Bob takes out Number Eighty-two. He is a good engineer. But Mike is a shopman. Yes, I guess I can identify him.”