"And I'm going to get some sandwiches and a few bottles of pop for a little midnight lunch."
"All right," agreed the young engineer, as his companion started over towards Railroad Row.
Lemuel Fogg had not put in an appearance up to this time, but a few minutes later Ralph saw him in the cab of No. 999, which he had gained by a short cut from the street. As Ralph was looking in the direction of the locomotive, some one came briskly up behind him and gave him a sharp, friendly slap on the shoulder.
"Hello, Ralph Fairbanks!" he hailed.
"Why, Dave Bissell!" said the young railroader, turning to face and shake hands with an old acquaintance. Dave had been a train boy on an accommodation run at Stanley Junction about a year previous, and had graduated into the same line of service on the Overland Limited.
"I'm very glad to see you," said Ralph; "I hear you've got a great run."
"Famous, Fairbanks!" declared Dave. "I'm hearing some big things about you."
"You call them big because you remember the Junction and exaggerate home news," insisted Ralph.
"Maybe so, but I always said you'd be president of the road some time," began Dave, and then with a start stared hard at young Clark, who appeared
