"You're a capital fellow, Ralph Fairbanks," cried the delighted little urchin. "If you ever run for president of the Great Northern, my sister says the whole town will vote for you." "Thank you, Ted," laughed the young railroader, "but they don't elect railroad presidents that way." "Dad says you'll get there, anyway." "Thank you again," said Ralph, and as Ted darted away he gave his full attention to the note. It ran: "Ralph Fairbanks: "Will you please come to the place where the bearer of this note will direct you, and oblige. I have some money for you. --Glen Palmer." "Well, well," said Ralph in a pleased way, "this is pretty quick action on the part of our young chicken raiser. Of course I'll go. Glen Palmer is straight, as I thought he would be. I'm curious to know how he came out with his investment, and doubly curious to learn something about that mysterious old grandfather of his." Ralph did not need any guide to reach the elevated tracks and the old switch tower shanty alluded to by Ted Rollins. The spot had been a busy one before they straightened out a lot of useless curves and changed the main line a half mile farther south. The old main tracks, however, were still used for switching and standing freights, and there were several grain elevators in the vicinity. It was now a remote and isolated spot so far as general traffic was concerned. Ralph crossed over a stretch of bleak prairie, leaped a drainage ditch, and started down a siding that was used as a repair track. Just as he reached the end of a freight car he hastened his steps. Not fifty yards distant two animated figures suddenly filled his range of vision. They were boys. One was Glen Palmer. The other Ralph was amazed to recognize as Ike Slump. Glen had a broken-off broom in one hand and a bag pretty well filled over his shoulder. He was warding off the approach of Slump, who seemed bent on pestering him from malice or robbing him for profit. Ralph ran forward to the rescue of his young protege, who was no match in strength or size for the bully. He was not in time to prevent a sharp climax to the scene. Glen swung the heavy bag he carried around to deal his tormenter a blow. Slump either drew a knife or had one concealed up his sleeve all along. At any rate he caught the circling bag on the fly. The knife blade met its bulging surface and slit it woefully, so that a stream of golden grain poured out. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" burst out Glen Palmer, indignantly. "Strangers pay toll around here, or I know the reason," derided bad Ike Slump. "Just drop that, Slump," spoke Ralph, stepping forward. "Humph!" growled Ike, retreating a step or two and looking rather embarrassed. "I didn't expect you." "I see you didn't," observed Ralph. "This petty business doesn't seem to accord very well with your high pretentions of last evening."