"I do, most emphatically," declared Ralph, "and greatly obliged to you for thinking of it."

Ralph approached the train on the siding. It was one of the queerest he had ever seen. There was a motley gathering of every class of freight cars on the line. As he passed along he noted the destination of some of the cars. No two were marked for the same point of delivery. It was easy to surmise that they were victims of the recent blockade.

Ralph came up to the rear car of the incongruous train with a good deal of curiosity. It was not the car that had made that mysterious run to Fordham Spur with Zeph Dallas, although it looked exactly like it. The present car was newer and more staunch. A fresh discovery made Ralph think hard. The car was classified as "fast freight," and across one end was chalked its presumable destination.

"Fordham Spur," read the young engineer. "Queer—the same as the other car. I wonder what's aboard?"

Just like the other car, the curtains were closely drawn in this one. There was no sign of life about the present car, however. Smoke curled from a pipe coming up through its roof. No one was visible in the immediate vicinity except a flagman and some loiterers about a near switch shanty. Ralph stepped to the rear platform of the car. He placed his hand on the door knob, turned it, and to his surprise and satisfaction the door opened unresistingly.

He stepped inside, to find himself in a queer situation. Ralph stood in the rear partitioned-off end of the car. It resembled a homelike kitchen. An oil stove stood on a stand, and around two sides of the car were shelves full of canisters, boxes and cans, a goodly array of convenient eatables. Lying asleep across a bench was a young colored man, who wore the cap and apron of a dining-car cook.

Ralph felt that he was intruding, but his curiosity overcame him. He stepped to the door of the partition. Near its top was a small pane of glass, and through this Ralph peered.

"I declare!" he exclaimed under his breath, and with a great start.

A strange, vivid picture greeted the astonished vision of the young railroader. If the rear part of the tourist car had suggested a modern kitchen, the front portion was a well-appointed living room. It had a stove in its center, and surrounding this were all the comforts of a home. There was a bed, several couches, easy chairs, two illuminated lamps suspended from side brackets, and the floor was covered with soft, heavy rugs.

Upon one of the couches lay a second colored man, apparently a special car porter, and he, like the cook, was fast asleep. All that Ralph had so far seen, however, was nothing to what greeted his sight as his eyes rested on the extreme front of the car.

There, lying back in a great luxurious armchair, was a preternaturally thin and sallow-faced man. His pose and appearance suggested the invalid or the convalescent. He lay as if half dozing, and from his lips ran a heavy tube, connected with a great glass tank at his side.

Such a picture the mystified Ralph had never seen before. He could not take in its full meaning all in a minute. His puzzled mind went groping for some reasonable solution of the enigma. Before he could think things out, however, there was a sound at the rear door of the car. Some one on the platform outside had turned the knob and held the door about an inch ajar, and Ralph glided towards it. Through the crack he could see three persons plainly. Ralph viewed them with wonderment.

He had half anticipated running across Zeph Dallas somewhere about the train, but never this trio—Ike Slump, Jim Evans and the man he had known as Lord Montague. The two latter were standing in the snow. Ike was on the platform. He was asking a question of the man who had posed as a member of the English nobility:

"Be quick, Morris; what am I to do?"

Lord Montague, alias Morris, with a keen glance about him, drew a heavy coupling pin from under his coat.

"Take it," he said hastily, "and get inside that car."

"Suppose there's somebody hinders me?"

"Didn't I tell you they were all asleep?" demanded Morris. "You'll find a man near a big glass tank."

"See here," demurred Ike; "I don't want to get into any more trouble. When it comes to striking a man with that murderous weapon——"

"Murderous fiddlesticks!" interrupted Morris. "You are to hurt nobody. Smash the tank, that's all—run out, join us, and it's a hundred dollars cash on the spot, and a thousand when I get my fortune."

"Here goes, then," announced Ike Slump, pushing open the door, "but what you want to go to all this risk and trouble for to smash an old glass tank, I can't imagine."

"You'll know later," muttered Morris grimly.

Ralph did not know what the three rascals were up to, but he realized that it must be something bad. Putting two and two together, thinking back a bit of all that had occurred concerning Zeph, the Clark boy, and the Slump crowd, he began to fancy that tourist cars played a big part in the programme, whatever that programme was. The smashing of the glass tank, Morris had announced, was worth a hundred dollars to Ike—might lead to a fortune, he had intimated.

"There's some wicked plot afoot," decided Ralph, "so—back you go, Ike Slump!"

As Ike stepped across the threshold of the car the young engineer acted. He had grabbed the coupling pin from Ike's hand, dropped it, grasped Ike next with both hands and pressed him backwards to the platform. Ike struggled and himself got a grip on Ralph. The latter kept forcing his opponent backwards. Ike slipped and went through the break in the platform railing where the guard chain was unset, and both toppled to the ground submerged in three feet of snow.

Ralph had landed on top of Ike and he held him down, but the cries of his adversary had brought Evans and Morris to his rescue. The former was pouncing down upon Ralph with vicious design in his evil face, when a new actor appeared on the scene.

It was Zeph Dallas. He came running to the spot with his arms full of packages, apparently some supplies for the tourist car which he had just purchased of some store on Railroad Street. These he dropped and his hand went to his coat pocket. The amateur detective was quite as practical and businesslike as did he appear heroic, as he drew out a weapon.

"Leave that fellow alone, stand still, or you're goners, both of you," panted Zeph. "Hi! hello! stop those men! They're conspirers, they're villains!"

Zeph's fierce shouts rang out like clarion notes. They attracted the attention of the crowd around the switch shanty, and as Evans and Morris started on a run three or four of the railroad loiterers started to check their flight. As Zeph helped Ralph yank Ike Slump to his feet and drag him along, the young engineer observed that Evans and Morris were in the custody of the switch shanty crowd.

Two men coming down the track hastened over to the crowd. Ralph was glad to recognize them as Bob Adair, the road detective, and one of the yards watchmen.

"What's the trouble here, Fairbanks?" inquired Adair, with whom the young engineer was a prime favorite and an old-time friend.

"Dallas will tell you," intimated Ralph.

"Yes," burst out Zeph excitedly; "I want these three fellows arrested, Mr. Adair. They must be locked up safe and sound, or they'll do great harm."

"Ah—Evans? Slump?" observed Adair, recognizing the twain who had caused the Great Northern a great deal of trouble in the past. "They'll do on general principles. Who's this other fellow?"

"He's the worst of the lot, the leader. He's an awful criminal," declared Zeph with bolting eyes and intense earnestness. "Mr. Adair, if you let that crowd go free, you'll do an awful wrong."

"But what's the charge?"

"Conspiracy. They're trying to——"

"Well, come up to the police station and give me something tangible to go on, and I'll see that they get what's coming to them," promised the road detective.

"I can't—say, see! my train. I've got to go with that train, Ralph," cried Zeph in frantic agitation. "Try and explain, don't let those fellows get loose for a few hours—vast fortune—Marvin Clark—Fred Porter—Fordham Cut—big plot!"

In a whirl of incoherency, Zeph dashed down the tracks, for the train with the tourist car had started up. He had just time enough to gather up his scattered bundles and reach the platform of the last car, as the mixed train moved out on the main line and out of sight, leaving his astonished auditors in a vast maze of mystery.



CHAPTER XXX

SNOWBOUND

Chug!

"A snowslide!" exclaimed Ralph, in dismay.

"An avalanche!" declared Fogg. "Dodge—something's coming!"

With a crash both cab windows were splintered to fragments. The young engineer of No. 999 was nearly swept from his seat as there poured in through the gap a volume of snow.

They had struck an immense snowdrift obliquely, but the fireman's side caught the brunt. As the powerful locomotive dove into the drift, the snow packed through the denuded window-frame at the fireman's seat like grain into a bin. A solid block of snow was formed under the terrific pressure of the compact. It lodged against the coal of the tender with a power that would probably have crushed the life out of a person standing in the way.

"Whew!" shouted Fogg. "Lucky I ducked."

Ralph stopped the engine, which had been going slower and slower each minute of the past hour. They had gotten about half the distance to Rockton. Long since, however, both engineer and fireman had fully decided that they would never make terminus that night.

They had left Stanley Junction under difficulties. The snow was deep and heavy, and there was a further fall as they cleared the limits. There was no wind, but the snow came down with blinding steadiness and volume, and at Vernon they got the stop signal.

The operator stated that the line ahead leading past Fordham Cut was impassable. The passenger was stalled ten miles away, and orders from Rockton were to the effect that the Overland Express should take the cut-off. This diverged into the foothills, where there were no such deep cuts as on the direct route, and where it was hoped the drifts would not be so heavy.

Neither Ralph nor Fogg was familiar with their new routing. For an hour they made fair progress. Then they began to encounter trouble. They did not run a yard that the pilot wheels were not sunk to the rims in snow. Landmarks were blotted out. As they found themselves blindly trusting to the power of the giant locomotive to forge ahead despite obstacles, they were practically a lost train.

It was now, as they dove bodily into a great drift choking up an embankment cut, that they realized that they had reached a definite angle in their experience of the run, and were halted for good.

No. 999 barely pushed her nose far enough out of the enveloping drift, to enable Ralph by the aid of the glaring headlight to discern other drifts further ahead.

"We're stalled, that's dead sure," declared Fogg. "Signal the conductor and see what the programme is."

It was some time after the tooting signal that the conductor put in an appearance. He did not come along the side track. That was fairly impossible, for it would have been sheer burrow progress. He came over the top of the next car to the tender, a blind baggage, and as he climbed over the coal in the tender his lantern smashed and he presented a pale and anxious face to the view of the cab crew.

"What's the prospects?" he inquired in a discouraged tone.

"It looks like an all-night lay-over," reported Ralph.

"There's nothing ahead, of course," said the conductor calculatingly. "There's a freight due on the in track. Behind us a freight was to come, provided No. 11 put out from Stanley Junction to-night."

"Which I doubt," said Fogg.

"If we could back to Vernon we'd be in better touch with something civilized," went on the conductor. "The wires are all down here."

"I can try it," replied Ralph, "but without a pilot the rear car will soon come to a bump."

"Give her a show, anyway," suggested the conductor.

Two minutes' effort resulted in a dead stop. The young engineer knew his business well enough to understand that they were in danger of running the train off the track.

"I'll send a signal back, if a man can get back," decided the conductor.

The backing-up had left a clear brief space before the train. Ralph took a lantern and left his fireman in charge of the locomotive. He was gone about ten minutes, and came back panting and loaded down with the heavy, clinging snow.

"May as well bunk in right here," ventured Fogg.

"That's it," answered Ralph definitely. "It's drift after drift ahead. No use disabling the locomotive, and we simply can't hope to dig our way out."

The conductor came forward again looking miserable. A red lantern had been planted as far down the tracks as the brakeman dared to go. The conductor and Ralph held a conversation. Fogg, a veteran in the service, was appealed to for a final decision.

"You've hit it," said the fireman sagely and with emphasis. "It's a permanent blockage, and our only chance is for the Great Northern to find us out or for us to wait until the snow melts."

"If this snow keeps up we'll be buried under," said the conductor.

"Well, we've got to make the best of it," advised Fogg. "If we can make it, build a big fire ahead there as a warning or signal, although I don't believe there's much stirring at either end. Then it's just a question of food and warmth."

"Food!" repeated the conductor, who was fat and hearty and looked as if he never willingly missed his meals; "where in the world are we to get food? They cut the diner off at the Junction, and there probably isn't a farmhouse or station along this dreary waste for miles."

"Well, I fancy we'll have to stand the hunger," said Ralph. "As to the heat, that's an essential we mustn't neglect. We had better shut off the steam pipes, keeping only a little fire in the furnace and starting the stoves in the coaches."

"Yes, we might last out on that plan," nodded the conductor, glancing over the tender.

Ralph pulled to a spot about two hundred feet ahead, where the advance and retreat of the train had cleared a space alongside the rails, and the conductor went back to the coaches.

Ralph adjusted the steam pipes so they would not freeze, and Fogg banked the fire. Then they got to the ground with rake and shovel, and skirmished around to see what investigation might develop.

Despite the terrible weather and the insecurity of their situation, the train crew were soon cheerily gathering wood up beyond the embankment. They had to dig deep for old logs, and they broke down tree branches. Then they cleared a space at the side of the track and started a great roaring fire that flared high and far.

"Nobody will run into that," observed Fogg with a satisfied chuckle.

"And it may lead a rescue party," suggested Ralph.

Some of the men passengers strolled up to the fire. Fear and anxiety had given way to a sense of the novelty of the situation. Ralph assured them that their comfort and safety would be looked after. He promised a foraging party at daylight in search of food supplies.

"They're talking about you back there in the coaches, Fairbanks," reported the conductor a little later. "They know about your arrangements for their comfort, and they're chatting and laughing, and taking it all in like a regular picnic."

"I suppose you've been giving me undue credit, you modest old hero!" laughed Ralph.

"Hello!" suddenly exclaimed Fogg; "now, what is that?"

All hands stared far to the west. A dim red flame lit the sky. Then it appeared in a new spot, still far away. This was duplicated until there were vague red pencils of light piercing the sky from various points of the compass.

"It's queer," commented the conductor. "Something's in action, but what, and how?"

"There!" exclaimed Fogg, as suddenly seemingly just beyond the heavy drift immediately in front of the train the same glare was seen.

"Yes, and here, too!" shouted out the conductor, jumping back.

Almost at his feet something dropped from midair like a rocket, a bomb. It instantly burst out in a vivid red flame. Ralph investigated, and while thus engaged two more of the colored messengers, projectiles, fireworks, whatever they were, rained down, one about half-way down the train, the other beyond it.

The young engineer was puzzled at first, but he soon made out all that theory and logic could suggest. There was no doubt but that some one at a distance had fired the queer little spheres, which were made of the same material as the regular train fuse, only these burned twice as long as those used as railroad signals, or fully twenty minutes.

"I make it out," explained Ralph to the conductor, "that somebody with a new-fangled device like a Roman candle is sending out these bombs as signals."

"Then we're not alone in our misery," remarked Fogg.

"First they went west, then they came this way," continued Ralph. "I should say that it looks as if the signal is on a train stalled like us about a mile away. I'll soon know."

Ralph got into the cab. In a minute or two No. 999 began a series of challenge whistles that echoed far and wide.

"Hark!" ordered Fogg, as they waited for a reply.

"A mere peep," reported the conductor, as a faint whistle reached their strained hearing above the noise of the tempest.

"Yes," nodded Fogg, "I figure it out. There's a train somewhere near with the locomotive nigh dead."

"If it should be the east freight stalled," suggested Ralph to the conductor, "you needn't worry about those hungry children in the coaches, and that baby you told about wanting milk."

"No, the east freight is a regular provision train," put in the fireman. "If we could reach her, we'd have our pick of eatables."

It was two hours later, and things had quieted down about the snowed-in train, when a series of shouts greeted Ralph, Fogg and the conductor, seated on a broken log around the fire at the side of the tracks.

"What's this new windfall!" exclaimed Fogg.

"More signals," echoed the conductor, staring vaguely.

"Human signals, then," supplemented Ralph. "Well, here's a queer arrival."

Five persons came toppling down the side of the embankment, in a string. They were tied together at intervals along a rope. All in a mix-up, they landed helter-skelter in the snow of the cut. They resembled Alpine tourists, arrived on a landslide.

"Why, it's Burton, fireman of the east freight!" shouted the conductor, recognizing the first of the five who picked himself up from the snow.

"That's who!" answered the man addressed, panting hard. "We're stalled about a mile down the cut. Coal given out, no steam. Saw your fire, didn't want to freeze to death quite, so——"

"We guessed that you were the Overland," piped in a fresh, boyish voice. "Packed up some eatables, and here we are. How do you like my new railroad rocket signals, Engineer Fairbanks?" and Archie Graham, the young inventor, picked himself up from the snow.



CHAPTER XXXI

CONCLUSION

One hour after daybreak the vicinity of the snowbound Overland Express resembled a picture, rather than a forlorn blockade.

The lone adventurers who had made the trip from the stalled freight had been a relief party indeed. The engineer was a railroader of long experience, and he had thought out the dilemma of the refugees. He and his companions had broken open a freight car and had brought each a good load. There was coffee, sugar, crackers, canned meats, a ham, and, what was most welcome to anxious mothers and their babes, a whole crate of condensed milk.

There never was a more jolly breakfast than that aboard the snowbound coaches. There was plenty to eat and to spare all around, and plenty more at the stalled freight, everybody knew. In front of the engine many a merry jest went the rounds, as the train crews and some of the passengers broiled pieces of succulent ham on the end of pointed twigs.

"You see, it was this way," Archie Graham explained to the young engineer of No. 999. "I was just watching a chance for washouts or snowstorms to get on a train diving into the danger. Those red bombs are my invention. I shoot them from a gun. I can send them a mile or gauge them to go fifty feet. They ignite when they drop, and by sending out a lot of them they are bound to land somewhere near the train you aim at. The engineer is bound to take notice, just as you did, of the glare, and that's where they beat the fusees and save the running back of a brakeman."

"Archie," said Ralph honestly, "I believe you're going to hit some real invention some time."

"I helped out some with my patent rocket signals this time," declared Archie.

"You did, my lad," observed Fogg with enthusiasm, "and the passengers know all about it, and they've mentioned you in a letter they're getting up to the company saying how they appreciate the intelligence—that's Fairbanks—the courage, ahem! that's me, and the good-heartedness, that's all of us, of the two train crews."

By the middle of the afternoon a snow plow opened up the line from Rockton to the stalled train. It was not until two mornings later, however, that the main line was open and Ralph and Fogg got back to Stanley Junction.

Archie came on the same train. Ralph asked him up to the house, but the young inventor said he wanted the quiet of his hotel room to work on his signal rocket idea, which he declared would amount to something yet.

The young engineer had scarcely got in the house after the warm, cheerful greeting of his anxious mother, when Zeph Dallas put in an appearance.

Zeph was looking exceedingly prosperous. He wore a new, nicely-fitting suit of clothes, a modest watch and chain, and was quite dignified and subdued, for him.

"When you've had your breakfast, Ralph," he said, "I've got something to tell you."

"Yes," nodded Ralph, "I'm expecting to hear a pretty long story from you, Zeph."

The young engineer hurried his breakfast and soon joined Zeph in the sitting-room.

"Say, Ralph," at once observed his friend, "you've done some big things in your time, but the biggest thing you ever did was when you saw to it that Jim Evans and Ike Slump, and most of all, that fellow, Morris, were held as prisoners by Adair, the road detective."

"I fancied they deserved locking up," remarked Ralph.

"There would have been a murder if you hadn't seen to it," declared Zeph. "I've a story to tell that would make your hair stand on end, but it would take a book to tell it all."

"I'm here to listen, Zeph," intimated Ralph.

"Yes, but I'm due to meet Mr. Adair at the jail. He's sent Evans and Slump back to the prison they escaped from. I hurried on here from the Fordham cut purposely to tell him what I wanted done with Morris."

"I say, Zeph," rallied the young railroader, "you seem to have a big say in such things for a small boy."

"That's all right," declared Zeph good-naturedly; "I'm all here, just the same, and I'm here for a big purpose. In a word, not to mystify you, Ralph, for you know only half of the story, I was hired by Marvin Clark, the son of the Middletown & Western Railroad president, to do all I've done, and I have been royally paid for it."

"Then you must have done something effective," observed Ralph.

"Clark thought so, anyway. I'll try and be brief and to the point, so that you'll understand in a nutshell. You know Marvin Clark and Fred Porter and the two Canaries?"

The young engineer nodded assentingly.

"Well, as I say, I ran across Clark accidentally in my stray wanderings. He and a sickly boy named Ernest Gregg were living in a fixed-over building at Fordham Spur. I seemed to be just the person Clark was waiting for. He hired me to do some work for him. He was planning to get the poor boy, Gregg, his rights."

"Yes, I know about that," observed Ralph.

"Then if you do, I can hurry over things. It seems that when he began to look up Gregg's affairs, he found out that Ernest had a strange hermit of a grandfather, named Abijah Gregg. Ernest's father was an only son. About five years ago the old man discovered a terrible forgery in which he was robbed of over ten thousand dollars. He had reason to believe that Ernest's father and a man named Howard were responsible for it. He disowned his son and all his family, and a month later Ernest's father died, leaving his son a disowned and homeless outcast."

"And what became of Howard?" inquired the interested Ralph.

"He disappeared. Old Gregg became soured at all humanity after that," narrated Zeph; "the more so because he had a profligate nephew who turned out bad. This was the man in jail here now."

"Lord Lionel Montague—Morris?"

"Yes, Morris robbed the old man, who became afraid of him. The old man tried to hide away from everybody. In his wanderings he picked up the two Canaries and settled down at the lonely place at Fordham Cut. He was very rich, partly paralyzed, and intended to leave his fortune to the state, rather than have any relative benefit by it. Well, Marvin Clark, the splendid, unselfish fellow, got a clew to all this. He located old Abijah Gregg. He spent just loads of money following down points, until he discovered that the man Howard was a broken-down invalid in New Mexico. Clark was sick himself for a month, and that was why Fred Porter did not hear from him."

"And later?" asked Ralph.

"I ran across Porter and brought him to the Spur about a month ago. He is there now. Well, Clark found out positively that Ernest's father never had a thing to do with forgery. It had been really committed by Howard and this villain, Morris. He got in touch with Howard in New Mexico, who was a dying man. He found him anxious to make what reparation he could for a wicked deed. Old Gregg would not go to New Mexico. Howard could only live where the air was just right for him. The physicians said that if he ever went to any other climate, the change of atmosphere would kill him. With plenty of money at his command, Clark arranged it all. The New Mexico doctors got a tank that held an artificial air, and Clark arranged so that Howard could come east in a special car."

"And the first tourist car that you ran empty to the Spur?" inquired Ralph.

"Why, we knew that Morris was trying every way to locate and annoy his uncle. We thought that maybe he had got onto our plans about Howard. We ran the dummy car to see if we were being watched. Don't you see, that if Morris had succeeded in smashing the glass air tank, Howard would have died before he could tell his story to old Mr. Gregg."

"And now?" said Ralph.

"The story has been told. Old Mr. Gregg is convinced that his son was innocent of forgery. He will take care of his grandson and make him his heir, and young Clark, as you see, has done a grand thing."

"Yes, indeed," assented Ralph.

"Howard will return to New Mexico with a relieved conscience. I am going to the jail here now to see Morris. If he will agree to leave the country and never annoy his uncle again, I will give him a certain large sum of money, as directed by his uncle. If he doesn't, he will be prosecuted for the forgery."

"Zeph," observed the young railroader enthusiastically, "you have proven yourself not only a real detective, but a splendid lawyer, as well."

"Thank you," returned Zeph, and blushed modestly; "most everybody that gets in with you does some kind of good in the world."

It was two hours later when a messenger came to the Fairbanks home with a letter for Ralph.

The young engineer flushed with pleasure as he read a brief communication from the master mechanic, advising him that Mr. Robert Grant, president of the Great Northern, was at Stanley Junction, and wished to see him for a few minutes at the Waverly Hotel.

Ralph told his mother of the incident, and her eyes followed him fondly and proudly as, arrayed in his best, Ralph started out to keep his appointment.

It was a warm welcome that the young railroader received from the great railroad magnate. Mr. Grant went over their mutual experiences the night of the wild dash of the special from Rockton to Shelby Junction.

"You did a most important service for the road that night, Fairbanks," said the railroad president; "how much, is a secret in the archives of the company, but I can say to you confidentially that the Mountain Division would have passed to another line if we had not acted in time."

"I am very glad," said Ralph modestly.

"I want to acknowledge that service. I am only the president of the road," said Mr. Grant, smiling, and Ralph smiled, too, "so being a servant of the road, I must act under orders. I learned that, like all thrifty young men, you had a savings account at the bank here. I have deposited there the company's check for one thousand dollars to your account."

"Oh, Mr. Grant——" began Ralph, but the railroad president held up his hand to check the interruption.

"As to Fogg," went on Mr. Grant, "the road has closed up the subscription in his behalf, by giving him sufficient to rebuild his burned-down house."

Ralph's face was aglow with pride, pleasure and happiness.

"So, good-by for the present, Fairbanks," concluded the railroad president, grasping Ralph's hand warmly. "There are higher places for ambitious young men in the service of the road, as you know. I shall not try to influence your plans, for I know that sheer merit will put you forward when you decide to advance. As to my personal influence, that, you know, is yours to command. For the present, however, we should regret to see the Overland Express in other hands than those of the youngest and the best engineer on the Great Northern."

What Mr. Grant had to say about Ralph's advancement came true a little later, and those who care to follow our hero's future career may do so in the next story of this series, to be called, "Ralph, the Train Dispatcher; or, The Mystery of the Pay Car." In that volume we shall meet many of our old friends once more, and see what our hero did when new difficulties confronted him.

One day Ralph was surprised to receive a visit from Marvin Clark and Fred Porter. He received them both warmly, and soon learned that Clark had fixed up his trouble over railroad work, and with his parent, and had secured a good position for Fred, so that the latter would no longer need to lead a roving life.

"But I must have one more ride with you, Fairbanks," said Fred.

"And I'll go along," said the son of the railroad president.

"With pleasure!" cried Ralph. "Come on!" And he led the way to where No. 999 stood ready for the next run.

The trip was a grand success. And here we will, for the present, at least, say good-by to Ralph of the Overland Express.

THE END



THIS ISN'T ALL!

Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book?

Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?

On the reverse side of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.

Don't throw away the Wrapper.

Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog.



THE TOM SWIFT SERIES

By VICTOR APPLETON

Uniform Style of Binding. Individual Colored Wrappers. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

Every boy possesses some form of inventive genius. Tom Swift is a bright, ingenious boy and his inventions and adventures make the most interesting kind of reading.

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING BOAT TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT OIL GUSHER

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE DON STURDY SERIES

By VICTOR APPLETON

Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations by

WALTER S. ROGERS

Every Volume Complete in Itself

In company with his uncles, one a mighty hunter and the other a noted scientist, Don Sturdy travels far and wide, gaining much useful knowledge and meeting many thrilling adventures.

DON STURDY ON THE DESERT OF MYSTERY; Or, Autoing in the Land of the Caravans.

An engrossing tale of the Sahara Desert, of encounters with wild animals and crafty Arabs.

DON STURDY WITH THE BIG SNAKE HUNTERS; Or, Lost in the Jungles of the Amazon.

Don's uncle, the hunter, took an order for some of the biggest snakes to be found in South America—to be delivered alive! The filling of that order brought keen excitement to the boy.

DON STURDY IN THE TOMBS OF GOLD; Or, The Old Egyptian's Great Secret.

A fascinating tale of exploration and adventure in the Valley of Kings in Egypt. Once the whole party became lost in the maze of cavelike tombs far underground.

DON STURDY ACROSS THE NORTH POLE; Or, Cast Away in the Land of Ice.

Don and his uncles joined an expedition bound by air across the north pole. A great polar blizzard nearly wrecks the airship.

DON STURDY IN THE LAND OF VOLCANOES; Or, The Trail of the Ten Thousand Smokes.

An absorbing tale of adventures among the volcanoes of Alaska in a territory but recently explored. A story that will make Don dearer to his readers than ever.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE RADIO BOYS SERIES

(Trademark Registered)

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Railroad Series," Etc.

Individual Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

A new series for boys giving full details of radio work, both in sending and receiving—telling how small and large amateur sets can be made and operated, and how some boys got a lot of fun and adventure out of what they did. Each volume from first to last is so thoroughly fascinating, so strictly up-to-date and accurate, we feel sure all lads will peruse them with great delight.

Each volume has a Foreword by Jack Binns, the well-known radio expert.

THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS; Or, Winning the Ferberton Prize.

THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT; Or, The Message That Saved the Ship.

THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION; Or, Making Good in the Wireless Room.

THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS; Or, The Midnight Call for Assistance.

THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE; Or, Solving a Wireless Mystery.

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE FOREST RANGERS; Or, The Great Fire on Spruce Mountain.

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE ICEBERG PATROL; Or, Making Safe the Ocean Lanes.

RADIO BOYS WITH THE FLOOD FIGHTERS; Or, Saving the City in the Valley.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE RAILROAD SERIES

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Radio Boys," Etc.

Uniform Style of Binding. Illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In this line of books there is revealed the whole workings of a great American railroad system. There are adventures in abundance—railroad wrecks, dashes through forest fires, the pursuit of a "wildcat" locomotive, the disappearance of a pay car with a large sum of money on board—but there is much more than this—the intense rivalry among railroads and railroad men, the working out of running schedules, the getting through "on time" in spite of all obstacles, and the manipulation of railroad securities by evil men who wish to rule or ruin.

RALPH OF THE ROUND HOUSE; Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man.

RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER; Or, Clearing the Track.

RALPH ON THE ENGINE; Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail.

RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS; Or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer.

RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER; Or, the Mystery of the Pay Car.

RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN; Or, The Young Railroader's Most Daring Exploit.

RALPH ON THE MIDNIGHT FLYER; Or, The Wreck at Shadow Valley.

RALPH AND THE MISSING MAIL POUCH; Or, The Stolen Government Bonds.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE RIDDLE CLUB BOOKS

By ALICE DALE HARDY

Individual Colored Wrappers. Attractively Illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

Here is as ingenious a series of books for little folks as has ever appeared since "Alice in Wonderland." The idea of the Riddle books is a little group of children—three girls and three boys decide to form a riddle club. Each book is full of the adventures and doings of these six youngsters, but as an added attraction each book is filled with a lot of the best riddles you ever heard.

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT HOME

An absorbing tale that all boys and girls will enjoy reading. How the members of the club fixed up a clubroom in the Larue barn, and how they, later on, helped solve a most mysterious happening, and how one of the members won a valuable prize, is told in a manner to please every young reader.

THE RIDDLE CLUB IN CAMP

The club members went into camp on the edge of a beautiful lake. Here they had rousing good times swimming, boating and around the campfire. They fell in with a mysterious old man known as The Hermit of Triangle Island. Nobody knew his real name or where he came from until the propounding of a riddle solved these perplexing questions.

THE RIDDLE CLUB THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS

This volume takes in a great number of winter sports, including skating and sledding and the building of a huge snowman. It also gives the particulars of how the club treasurer lost the dues entrusted to his care and what the melting of the great snowman revealed.

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH

This volume tells how the club journeyed to the seashore and how they not only kept up their riddles but likewise had good times on the sand and on the water. Once they got lost in a fog and are marooned on an island. Here they made a discovery that greatly pleased the folks at home.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE BOBBSEY TWINS BOOKS

For Little Men and Women

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of "The Bunny Brown Series," Etc.

Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

These books for boys and girls between the ages of three and ten stands among children and their parents of this generation where the books of Louisa May Alcott stood in former days. The haps and mishaps of this inimitable pair of twins, their many adventures and experiences are a source of keen delight to imaginative children everywhere.

THE BOBBSEY TWINS THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORE THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SCHOOL THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SNOW LODGE THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A HOUSEBOAT THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT MEADOW BROOK THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT HOME THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN A GREAT CITY THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON BLUEBERRY ISLAND THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON THE DEEP BLUE SEA THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE GREAT WEST THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CEDAR CAMP THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE COUNTY FAIR THE BOBBSEY TWINS CAMPING OUT THE BOBBSEY TWINS AND BABY MAY THE BOBBSEY TWINS KEEPING HOUSE THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CLOVERBANK

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE BUNNY BROWN SERIES

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of the Popular "Bobbsey Twins" Books, Etc.

Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

These stories by the author of the "Bobbsey Twins" Books are eagerly welcomed by the little folks from about five to ten years of age. Their eyes fairly dance with delight at the lively doings of inquisitive little Bunny Brown and his cunning, trustful sister Sue.

BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON GRANDPA'S FARM BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE PLAYING CIRCUS BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CAMP REST-A-WHILE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT AUNT LU'S CITY HOME BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE BIG WOODS BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON AN AUTO TOUR BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR SHETLAND PONY BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE GIVING A SHOW BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CHRISTMAS TREE COVE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE SUNNY SOUTH BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE KEEPING STORE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR TRICK DOG BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT A SUGAR CAMP

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



SIX LITTLE BUNKERS SERIES

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of The Bobbsey Twins Books, The Bunny Brown Series, The Make-Believe Series, Etc.

Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

Delightful stories for little boys and girls which sprung into immediate popularity. To know the six little Bunkers is to take them at once to your heart, they are so intensely human, so full of fun and cute sayings. Each story has a little plot of its own—one that can be easily followed—and all are written in Miss Hope's most entertaining manner. Clean, wholesome volumes which ought to be on the bookshelf of every child in the land.

SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDMA BELL'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT AUNT JO'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COUSIN TOM'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDPA FORD'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT UNCLE FRED'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT CAPTAIN BEN'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COWBOY JACK'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MAMMY JUNE'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT FARMER JOEL'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MILLER NED'S

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



THE HONEY BUNCH BOOKS

By HELEN LOUISE THORNDYKE

Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations Drawn by WALTER S. ROGERS

A new line of fascinating tales for little girls. Honey Bunch is a dainty, thoughtful little girl, and to know her is to take her to your heart at once.

HONEY BUNCH: JUST A LITTLE GIRL

Happy days at home, helping mamma and the washerlady. And Honey Bunch helped the house painters too—or thought she did.

HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE CITY

What wonderful sights Honey Bunch saw when she went to visit her cousins in New York! And she got lost in a big hotel and wandered into a men's convention!

HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST DAYS ON THE FARM

Can you remember how the farm looked the first time you visited it? How big the cows and horses were, and what a roomy place to play in the barn proved to be?

HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST VISIT TO THE SEASHORE

Honey Bunch soon got used to the big waves and thought playing in the sand great fun. And she visited a merry-go-round, and took part in a seaside pageant.

HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST LITTLE GARDEN

It was great sport to dig and to plant with one's own little garden tools. But best of all was when Honey Bunch won a prize at the flower show.

HONEY BUNCH: HER FIRST DAYS IN CAMP

It was a great adventure for Honey Bunch when she journeyed to Camp Snapdragon. It was wonderful to watch the men erect the tent, and more wonderful to live in it and have good times on the shore and in the water.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

THE END