The gruff dispatcher nodded brusquely. He liked Ralph and the latter knew it. Ralph also knew that Glidden was one of the "true blues" of the office. "His arm is not strong enough to pull a lever, but he's in shape to tackle a key, and knows how to do it." "Glad," vouchsafed Glidden tersely. "All right. Set him at work." "Come on," said Glidden, and he opened the little office gate and Ralph stood within the charmed precincts of the train dispatching circle. "You've had some experience, I understand," resumed Glidden, after some bustling about. "I suppose you know what an O. S. report is?" "The one sent in by operators of the various stations as trains arrive and depart." "Exactly, and the 'Consists'?" "The conductors' messages giving the exact composition and destination of every car in the train." "You'll do," nodded Glidden. "Now, then, I have an inkling you and I are booked for something special at the relay station to-night, so you needn't work yourself out. Just for practice, though, and to prove how smart you are, show the kind of stuff you are made of by tackling that." Glidden threw down a train sheet before Ralph, and following it a copied telegram. Then he strode away, with the words: "Make out a schedule for this special, giving her a clean sweep from end to end with the exception of No. 8." "Very well, Mr. Glidden," said Ralph quietly. "How soon do you want it?" "Take your time," was the short reply, while a chuckle sounded deep down in the throat of the dispatcher. Ralph set his lips grimly. He realized that for a green hand he had been given an arduous task. He knew much about the service, however, and had not watched, studied and absorbed during the past two days for nothing. He was fully determined that this special should have "a run for her money." If she ran on his schedule, no train load was going away with the idea that the Great Northern was not the swiftest road of the bunch if he could help it, and Ralph had a big idea that he could. Glidden sent over a copy operator, a young fellow who agreed to do the copying while Ralph made the schedule. There was a whimsical twinkle in his eye, but Ralph dauntlessly started in at his work. The special in question was to be whooped through that afternoon, the run was one hundred and two miles, with plenty of sidings and passing tracks, and besides, old Dan Lacey, with engine No. 86, was on, so he could be sure of a run that was a hummer. The superintendent came into the office for a moment to see what Ralph was at, and said carelessly: "Tear things loose, Fairbanks. There's a Congressional Railroad Committee aboard of that special. Make 'em all car sick."