The young dispatcher of Stanley Junction jumped out of bed in a bound. He felt that he could have slept half a dozen hours longer, but to every railroad man the call “wake up” means duty waits, no delay, and Ralph responded to the urgent call without hesitation.
The echo of a series of light tappings on the door and of his mother’s voice mingled with her departing footsteps. He called out:
“What is it, mother?”
“A telephone message from the superintendent.”
“Good--something is stirring,” reflected Ralph, and hurried his dressing. “Well, enough has happened since yesterday to interest the president of the road himself,” he went on, musing. “They wanted some house cleaning done, and it has begun in a vigorous way.”
It was early in the afternoon. Just after daybreak that morning Ralph had reached Stanley Junction on top of a freight car. He had found Glidden in charge of the situation at the relay station.
“You’ve hit the mark, Fairbanks,” were his first commendatory words. “The assistant superintendent was here for an hour with me after we got that rough and tumble message from you down the line.”
“It was a cross tree experiment. Wasn’t it a jumble?” inquired Ralph.
“We pieced it out, got our bearings, and they’re spreading the net to catch some pretty big fish.”
“What of Grizzly and that fellow with him?”