"And if that is true," continued the paymaster, still more wrought up, "they show a system of operation that means some big design in their mind. Give me the help of your shoulder, Fairbanks. I've got to get to the house and to my telephone right away." A detour of the walled-in runway was necessary in order that they might reach Mr. Little's home. The paymaster limped painfully. Ralph himself winced under the weight of his hand placed upon his shoulder, but he made no complaint. His right arm was growing stiff and the fingers of that hand he had noticed were covered with blood. By the time they reached the paymaster's home, his family had returned. Mr. Little led Ralph at once to the library and sank into his armchair at the desk. "Why," he exclaimed after a glance at Ralph, "you are hurt, too." "Oh, a mere trifle," declared the young engineer with apparent carelessness. "No, it's something serious--worth attending to right away," insisted the paymaster, and he called to his wife, introduced Ralph, and Mrs. Little led him out to the kitchen. In true motherly fashion she seated him on a splint bottomed chair at the sink, got a basin of hot water and some towels, some lint and a bottle of liniment, and proceeded to attend to his needs like an expert surgeon. Where Ralph's hand had swept the steel rail when his assailant in the tunnel had knocked him off his footing, one arm had doubled up under him, his fingers sweeping a bunch of metal splinters. These had criss-crossed the entire back of his hand. Once mended up, Ralph was most solicitous, however, to work his arm freely, fearing a wrench or injury that might temporarily disable him from road duty. "I've got the superintendent over the 'phone," said Mr. Little, as Ralph reëntered the library. "He's due at an important lodge meeting, and can't get here until after nine o'clock. See here, Fairbanks," with a glance at the injured hand which Ralph kept to his side in an awkward way, "you'd better get home and put that arm in a sling." "I think myself I'd better have a look at it," acknowledged Ralph. "It feels pretty sore around the shoulder." "You have a telephone at your house?" inquired the paymaster. "Yes, sir." "I may want to call you up. If I don't, I feel pretty sure the superintendent will, when we have talked over affairs." Mr. Little insisted on his hired man hitching up the family horse to drive Ralph home. Mrs. Fairbanks at a glance read pain and discomfort in her son's face as he entered the sitting room. Ralph set her fears at rest with a hasty explanation. Then after resting a little he told her all about his adventures of the evening. "It seems as if a railroader must take a double risk all the time," she said in a somewhat regretful tone.