rest in the boy who was a protege of the
railroad president.

After asking Bob about the incident of the parlor car, they told him to
make himself comfortable, and when he felt hungry to let them know.

"I could eat now," smiled Bob, his troubles vanished.

"Then I'll have one of my men go with you to a restaurant just up the
street a little way."

"You're very kind, but I can go alone," replied Bob.

"I don't doubt it," laughed the station master. "But, after that wire
from Chicago to Jenkins, I don't want anything to happen to you while I
am responsible.

"Hey, Tom," he called to one of the trainmen, "take this boy up to
Sweeney's, and see that he has a good feed."

In that mysterious manner in which news travels, word had been passed
of the instructions to Jenkins, and the man hailed as Tom gladly
accepted his task, saying:

"Come on, Bob. When you've tasted Sweeney's wheat cakes, you'll always
remember Randolph."

"I think I'll remember it, anyway," smiled Bob, as he set out for the
restaurant with his guide.

Bob's appetite had not been in the least impaired by the unpleasant
experience through which he had passed, and he ate three plates of
griddle cakes.

"My, but those cakes sure were good," he observed, smacking his lips
with relish.

His companion, with good-natured patience, had watched the boy eat, and,
as Bob expressed his approval of Sweeney's food, he said:

"Better have another plate. You'll never get any cakes quite as good as
Sweeney's till you get back to Randolph."

Though with evident reluctance, Bob declined, and, after paying for the
meal, they returned to the station.

By the time of their arrival, more trainmen were on duty, and to each
the story of Bob's getting left had been told.

As a result, when they saw the boy, they smiled at him, and proffered
good-natured comments.

"Feel less hungry, now?" asked the station master, as Tom and Bob
entered his office.

"Yes, thank you," replied the latter. "Sweeney surely can cook griddle
cakes! I wish he lived out in Fairfax."

"Take him along," laughed Tom, "and start in business. All Sweeney needs
is a flame to cook on, and the fixin's."

While they were talking, one of the telegraph operators came in, with a
despatch for the agent.

"Here's Jenkins' answer," said he, holding out the sheet of yellow
paper.

Taking it, the station master read aloud:

"ROBINSON, Randolph: Will leave pass as
instructe