Twenty, thirty, forty miles made, and as they slowed down Griscom turned to Trevor, a proud glitter in his eye.
"How is that, sir?" he inquired.
"Famous!" cried the young man cheerily. "Badly shaken up, and this seat up here is rather bumpy, but I enjoy it, just the same. Going to stop?"
"Yes, crossing. Only for half-a-minute, though."
The engine halted on regular signal. Griscom got down and ran about a bit, explaining that he was subject to cramps when seated long in one position. Two men came up to the locomotive.
"Give us a lift?" demanded one of them.
"Couldn't do it, partner," responded Ralph. "Under special orders."
"Plenty of room up there on the tender."
"Not for you," answered the young fireman.
Both men regarded Trevor very keenly. Then they disappeared in the darkness. Ralph got the signal from the crossing's switch tower to go ahead.
"Mr. Griscom," he called out from his window.
"Why, where is he?—I don't see him," said Trevor in surprise. "I saw him out there not a minute ago."
Ralph jumped to the ground in amazement
