A week previous all this would have been Greek to Ralph. At present he quickly understood that 30 was the end of a long message, the quad was where they sent four messages at a time, and a pink was a rush telegram.
“Then you think you’re not being watched?” inquired Mason.
“Sure of it,” responded Grizzly with confidence.
“What’s the cross orders from our friends?”
“Nothing on the general mix up plan,” reported the operator. “They struck the right man when they hit me to help them. I’ve got a big hunch for the far west, and wouldn’t have cared if the Great Northern had let me out, since, with the chance to carry a big wad of money away with me, why of course I’m in trim for whatever blows along.”
“What’s special to-night?”
“A side trick, and that’s why I sent for you. We made a bad mix up two nights ago with cross orders and tappings. I think it aroused the suspicions of the superintendent, so we’re going slow on that tack for a few days. The gang working for the rival road, though, have let me in on some of their side games. One of them is due to-night.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll know when the time comes. Got your tools with you?”
Mason lazily touched a bag at his feet with his toe, and it jangled as he replied.