The young engineer, standing there idly, had his mind fixed upon the Hopkins’ troubles. How shocked Cherry would be to learn of her mother’s serious condition! It was true, as Ralph’s mother had said, never before had her son thought so much of any girl as he did of Cherry Hopkins. Suddenly he heard the Rockton call on the telegraph sounder. It was rapped out a dozen times before Silsby, the operator, got to the key. “I, I, Rok,” was the notification Silsby gave impatiently. “Night letter for Super Hop. Overlooked. Shoot it,” came the reply, as plain to Ralph’s ear as it was to Silsby’s. “Oh, boy!” retorted the Rockton operator. “You’re all set for trouble. I’ll try to smooth it. Go!” Instantly the sounder began to click again and the Morse flowed smoothly to the listening engineer’s ears: “B. Hop., Super, “Rockton. “Got mother’s letter. Know she is ill. Am starting to-night on 10:40. Con. will pass me on your book. Tell mother I am coming. “(Signed) C. Hopkins.” It was odd, but the first thought Ralph Fairbanks had on overhearing this delayed message of Cherry Hopkins to her father was that the Midnight Flyer would pass the 10:40 from Shelby Junction in Shadow Valley not far from the Devil’s Den. This message that had been delayed by some oversight should have reached the supervisor before he telegraphed to his daughter to come home. Cherry had evidently read between the lines of her mother’s letter and determined to rejoin Mrs. Hopkins, whether her father approved or not. “Plucky girl!” thought Ralph. “She’s one person who doesn’t cower before the Great-I-Am. And she is already on the iron, coming home, as she thinks, without her father’s approval. Well, I guess the Hopkins will have to fight their family battles without any aid from me.” Ralph started for the edge of the platform, for he saw the rear of the locomotive backing in. Stilling held the throttle. This fireman would soon apply for an engineer’s job. He handled the huge machine like a veteran, and when the coupling was made the passengers already in their berths aboard the train scarcely knew it, save for the long sigh of the compressed air. Ralph stepped aboard while the firemen made the connections. As usual he put his can under the seat on the driver’s side. As he stooped to do this, he saw something white fluttering in the draught. It was a folded paper hung upon a nail under the seat. He could not have missed seeing it when he set the luncheon kit down on the floor. He picked up the paper and stood up. He unfolded it in the light of his target lamp. Written boldly across the sheet were these words: “Fairbanks:—You’re due for a bump to-night. If you like yourself, stay off the Midnight Flyer.” This threatening screed was unsigned. And yet, as Ralph stared at it, he somehow felt that he had seen the careless writing before.