“Whoo-oop!”
Already the impetuous Zeph had acted on the impulse of the moment. He was up in the loft already. Mingled with his chucklings were the rustlings of hay, a dragging sound. Down on Ralph’s head came a bulky object as he started up the cleated side of the barn.
“Bags--two of them! Money! Pay envelopes!” gasped the young road officer in a transport of wild excitement. “Rivers hid them here. The woman don’t know. Hustle, get out. She may bring a mob after us. Oh, I’m a--I’m a great detective at last!”
“You are, and always were,” cheered Ralph with a happy smile. He felt well satisfied. The very feeling of the stuffed bags, a mere glance at their contents, told the young railroader that they were lugging to safety a fortune probably amounting to over two hundred thousand dollars.
They lost no time in cutting across the fields towards the town, each bearing a share of the precious burden.
At the local bank Ralph amazed the proprietor by demanding that the bags be locked up in his strongest vaults as the property of the Great Northern railroad.
Then he hurried to the office of the company railroad operator at Dunbar Station.
There was a brief explanation, a quick call for headquarters, the urgency signal, 25, and Ralph could fancy loyal old John Glidden at headquarters throwing open the entire lines for final orders in the great pay car mystery case.
East, west, south the messages flew: to the general superintendent, to Bob Adair, to the marshal, to the paymaster at Stanley Junction.
The unobtrusive station operator stared in bewilderment at the quick, natty stranger, who seemed to have no trouble in keeping track of a dozen different messages at once. It took Ralph fully an hour, with details, repeats and clean up. He arose from the instrument with a satisfied face.