“What is it?” asked Ralph.
“A telegram.”
“So it is. Why--”
Ralph paused there. If he had been astonished at the discovery of the board message back at the little station, the present scrap of paper doubly mystified him.
It was the mere fragment of a telegram, no heading, no date, and it read:
“Advise Ralph Fairbanks, Stanley Junction. Look out for the pacer.”
[CHAPTER XIX—ON THE LOOKOUT]
Ten minutes later Ralph and Bob Adair entered the office of the superintendent of the Great Northern. As they did so, a tall, well-dressed man left by another door. Adair nudged Ralph.
“The President of the road,” he spoke in a low quick tone.
“Yes, I see,” nodded Ralph.