determined to get back with friends by the time Evans
returned.

Fogg was at the engine as Ralph ran along the tracks, and one of the
brakemen of the accommodation was with him. Ralph rapidly apprized his
fireman of the situation.

"Slump and Evans, eh!" muttered Fogg, a deep crinkle of belligerency
crossing his forehead. "It was Slump who stole half my chickens. As to
Evans, his mean treachery during the strike came near getting me
discharged. I thought they were safe in jail."

"So did I," said Ralph. "They seem to have escaped, though. Mr. Fogg,
they are bad people to have at large."

"Bad! they're of a dangerous breed, I tell you. Simmons, hustle along
with us."

The fireman snatched up a furnace poker and put down the track after
Ralph, on the run. He was the first to dart into the shed when they
reached it, and ran up against the others following, after a swift
glance about the place.

"No one here," he reported. "Gone--they've slipped us--there's no one
in this shed."

"Ah, I see," spoke Ralph, with a look about the place outside. "Here
are wagon wheels," and then he cast his eye across the landscape.

It was so crowded with tracks, buildings and trees beyond that he
could not look far in the distance. Ralph, however, was satisfied that
Evans, returning with the wagon, had made haste to carry his helpless
comrade to the vehicle and get beyond reach of capture.

Fogg was for starting a pursuit, but Ralph convinced him of the
futility of this course, and they returned to the locomotive. Once
there, the fireman went over the case in all its bearings. Ralph had
heretofore told him little concerning Fred Porter and Marvin Clark. He
had shown him the photograph of the latter some days previous, asking
him to keep an eye out for its original. Now he felt that some
confidence was due his loyal cab mate, and he recited the entire story
of what he knew and his surmises.

"You've got a square head, Fairbanks," said Fogg, "and I'll rely on it
every time. It's logic to think your way. Some fellow is mightily
interested in this young Clark. None too good is the fellow, either,
or he wouldn't have to beat around the bush. No, he's not straight,
or he wouldn't hire such fellows as Evans and Ike Slump to help him
out."

"I don't understand it all," confessed Ralph, "but I can see that a
good deal of mysterious interest centers around this young Clark. I'm
going to try and get some word to Porter--and to Zeph Dallas