“How came you to let him do that, Fiske?” Ralph asked, but with some sympathy. “I was setting the signals for your own train, Fairbanks, the Midnight Flyer. I didn’t hear the fellow come in, but just as I turned from the levers I found him there behind me. Sure I had a gun! But it was in the desk drawer. We haven’t had a hold-up around here for years. He hit me on the head with the butt of his gun and I went down and out. When I came to he had lit out with my junk and the company’s money.” “That is too bad,” said Ralph, as he caught sight of the conductor’s raised arm. “What kind of looking fellow was he?” “Don’t know. He had a flour bag over his head. Tall, husky fellow. That is all I know about it. The super is giving me rats over the wire.” “He would,” called out Ralph, as he let the steam into the cylinders and the train began to move. “Now, I wonder,” thought the young engineer, “if Whitey Malone had anything to do with that. Or is the bandit a free-lance with no connection with these strikers? Humph! Where is Zeph, I wonder?” When Zeph next appeared it was in an astonishing way. Neither Ralph nor his queer friend was likely to forget the occasion. CHAPTER XIX THE HOLD-UP IN SHADOW VALLEY As the days slowly passed Ralph Fairbanks became very curious on one particular point. And this was something quite aside from his activities on the road or the strike developments. He wondered if Cherry Hopkins had been sent away from home as her father had threatened. The young fellow never went through the street where Mr. Hopkins lived on his way to and from his home. He would not appear to be curious regarding the girl. He did not want to attract her father’s attention and create more trouble for Cherry, if the latter was still in Rockton. He thought highly of the young girl. As his mother had intimated, he had never paid much attention to any particular girl before. “How is your friend, Cherry Hopkins?” the widow sometimes asked him. “Got too much to do now to think of girls,” he would return, with a laugh. But perhaps neither his tone nor his laugh quite convinced Mrs. Fairbanks that all was right. She asked shrewdly on one occasion: “Have you seen Miss Cherry lately?” “Not for a week. I believe she expected to go away. I don’t know whether she has or has not gone.” “Would you like to know, Ralph?” asked his mother softly. At that the young fellow awoke to the discovery that his mother was looking at him queerly. “Why, Mother!” he exclaimed, “you don’t suppose I care particularly about any of the Hopkins family?” “I think you do about Cherry,” she returned. “And from what I have heard about her, she is well worth your caring for—in a friendly way, I mean.” “My goodness! What is all this?” asked the wondering Ralph. His mother smiled and shook her head at him. “You must not think that you can hide anything from me,” she said. “There is a little bird comes and tells me——”