“I will need your signature to get some autograph pads made,” continued the official, picking up the stand containing the various rubber stamps in use. “What are you staring at, Fairbanks?”
“You don’t mean--”
“Promotion? oh, yes, I do. That was settled on after the fruit special affair, but so many rushing things came along since we couldn’t get around to you. Just make out a list of your new office requirements and changes in men and routine, and I’ll O. K. them.”
There was a suspicious sound in the open doorway. It was half between a sniffle and a chuckle.
“Here, you old rascal!” cried the superintendent, reaching out and grabbing the escaping Glidden, “no hanging around here,” and he dragged him into the room. “First official act, Fairbanks, discharge this man. Then make him assistant manager. He’s too fine for a simple first trick man.”
“Oh, but you’re doing things!” commented the old operator, trying to disguise his aroused emotions.
“For those who have done things for us, exactly,” answered the superintendent briskly. “Both of you come to my office at 10 a. m. You will probably be interested in hearing the final wind-up of the pay car mystery.”
It was certainly a remarkable meeting, that which the two friends attended.
Bob Adair was there with his report, brisk, animated and proud of his success. Zeph Dallas, excited and delighted, seemed to grow a foot when the superintendent gave him a personal word of praise for his efforts.
The initial work of Ralph Fairbanks had started in action all the efficient machinery of the road. As Zeph described it, once the first clew got to Adair he just seemed to spread out a great net and caught everybody and everything in it.