The screed was from one scamp in the city to another scamp on the road. Judging from the scrawl, a regular set of scamps had been hired to do some work for high-up, respectable fellows. This work was the securing of certain secret information, the private property of the Great Northern, nothing more--for the present at least. It seemed, however, that "Jem," in the city, had advised "Rivers," on the road, that now was the great opportunity to work personal graft on the side--as he designated it. He advised Rivers to keep the regular job going, as five dollars a day was pretty good picking. He, however, added that he must keep close tab on the paymaster deal. It meant a big bag of game. It might not be according to orders, but the other railroad fellows wouldn't lose any sleep if the Great Northern turned up with an empty pay car some fine morning. The hint was given also that the way to do things right was to get close to the paymaster's system. Such suggestive words as "watching," "papers," appeared in the last lines of the riddled sheet of paper. "The precious set of rascals," commented Ralph indignantly. "The assistant superintendent knew what he was talking about, it seems. It's all as plain as day to me. Our rivals have employed an irresponsible gang to spy on and cripple our service. Their hirelings are plotting to make a great steal on their own account. Hi, there--mind yourself, will you!" Ralph was suddenly nearly knocked off his feet. At the moment he was passing along the side of a building used as a restaurant. It was a great lounging place for young loafers, and second class and discharged railroad men. Its side door had opened forcibly and the big bouncing proprietor of the place was wrathfully chasing a lithe young fellow from the place. His foot barely grazed the latter, who pirouetted on the disturbed Ralph and went sliding across the pavement to the gutter. "Get out, I tell you, get out!" roared the irate restaurant man. "We don't want the likes of you about here." "I'm out, ain't I?" pertly demanded the intruder. "And stay out." "Yah!" The man slammed the door, muttered something about stolen tableware and changed eating checks. Ralph did not pause to challenge the ousted intruder further. One glance he had cast at the ugly, leering face of the lad. Then, his lips puckered to an inaudible whistle of surprise and dislike, he hurried his steps. "Ike Slump!" uttered the young railroader under his breath. It only needed the presence of the detestable owner of that name to momentarily cause Ralph to feel that the situation was working down to one of absolute peril and intense seriousness. Ike Slump had been a name to conjure by in the past--with the very worst juvenile element in Stanley Junction.