"Marvin Clark nothing!" shouted the train boy volubly. "That's my cousin, Fred Porter, of Earlville." CHAPTER VIII AN ASTONISHING DISCOVERY The young engineer of No. 999 faced a new mystery, a sharp suspicion darted through his mind. He recalled instantly several queer breaks that the special passenger had made in his conversation. "Your cousin, is he?" observed Ralph thoughtfully. "That's what he is," affirmed Dave Bissell. "And his name is Fred Porter?" "Always has been," declared Dave. "Why, something up? Humph! I can guess. Bet he's been up to some of his old tricks. He always was a joker and full of mischief." "Tell me more about him," suggested Ralph. "Why, there isn't much to tell," said Dave. "He and I were raised at Earlville. His parents both died several years ago, and he wandered around a good deal. This is the first I've seen of him for over two years." "Might you not be mistaken--facial resemblance?" "Not much," observed Dave staunchly. "Think I don't recognize my own relatives? Why, didn't you notice how he acted?" "Yes, surprised." "No, scared," corrected Dave, "and ran away." "Why?" demanded Ralph. "Well, from your seeming to know him under another name, I should say because he is found out. What game has he been playing on you, Fairbanks?" "He has done me more good than harm," evaded Ralph. "I've only known him since yesterday." "Well, he has run away, that's certain. That bothers me. Fred Porter was never a sneak or a coward. He was full of jolly mischief and fun, but a better friend no fellow ever had." "He struck me that way," said Ralph. "I hope he'll come back. There's my engine coming, and I'll have to go on duty. Try and find him, Dave, will you?" "If I can." "And if you find him, tell him I must see him before we leave Bridgeport." "All right." Ralph picked up the lunch package that his odd acquaintance had dropped and moved along the platform to where No. 999 had run. The locomotive was backed to the coaches and the relief engineer stepped to the platform. "I say," he projected in an undertone to Ralph, "what's up with Fogg?" "Is there anything?" questioned Ralph evasively. "Dizzy in the headlight and wobbly in the drivers, that's all," came the response, with a wink. Ralph's heart sank as he entered the cab. Its atmosphere was freighted with the fumes of liquor, and a single glance at the fireman convinced him that Fogg was very far over the line of sobriety. Ralph hardly knew how to take Fogg. The latter nodded briefly and turned away, pretending to occupy himself looking from the cab window. Ralph could not resist the impulse to try and break down the wall of reserve between them. He stepped over to the fireman's side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "See here, Fogg," he said in a friendly tone, "I've got to say something or do something to square accounts for your help in routing that crowd this morning."