“Ah, I see,” spoke Ralph, with a look about the place outside. “Here are wagon wheels,” and then he cast his eye across the landscape.
It was so crowded with tracks, buildings and trees beyond that he could not look far in the distance. Ralph, however, was satisfied that Evans, returning with the wagon, had made haste to carry his helpless comrade to the vehicle and get beyond reach of capture.
Fogg was for starting a pursuit, but Ralph convinced him of the futility of this course, and they returned to the locomotive. Once there, the fireman went over the case in all its bearings. Ralph had heretofore told him little concerning Fred Porter and Marvin Clark. He had shown him the photograph of the latter some days previous, asking him to keep an eye out for its original. Now he felt that some confidence was due his loyal cab mate, and he recited the entire story of what he knew and his surmises.
“You’ve got a square head, Fairbanks,” said Fogg, “and I’ll rely on it every time. It’s logic to think your way. Some fellow is mightily interested in this young Clark. None too good is the fellow, either, or he wouldn’t have to beat around 199 the bush. No, he’s not straight, or he wouldn’t hire such fellows as Evans and Ike Slump to help him out.”
“I don’t understand it all,” confessed Ralph, “but I can see that a good deal of mysterious interest centers around this young Clark. I’m going to try and get some word to Porter—and to Zeph Dallas. They should know what’s going on regarding Clark.”
The incident did not depart from the young engineer’s mind during the return trip to Stanley Junction, nor for several days later. With the escape of Evans and Ike Slump, however, the episode ended, at least for the time being. A week and more passed by, and that precious pair and their presumable employer, the pretended Lord Montague, seemed to have drifted out of existence quite as fully as had Zeph, Porter and young Clark.
One morning there was an animated discussion going on when Ralph entered the roundhouse. He was greatly interested in it, although he did not share in the general commotion.
The result of somebody’s “confidential” talk with the division superintendent had leaked out—the Great Northern was figuring to soon announce its new train. 200
“As I get it,” observed old John Griscom, “the road is in for a bid on the service the Midland Central is getting.”
“You don’t mean through business?” spoke an inquiring voice.