"No!" suddenly shouted Ralph, in a tone so stern and ringing that the discomfited Slump fell back several feet. "You miserable jail bird and swindler, I wouldn't help you on your wretched career of crime for five cents let alone five dollars. Furthermore, Glen Palmer may have been in jail, but I won't believe he belonged there till I have the proofs." "Oh, won't you?" sneered Ike. "All right. Don't want to reform him, eh? Won't give the downtrodden and oppressed a chance. You're a heavy philanthropist, you are, Mr. Ralph--let go!" Slump took a sudden whirl. From behind a fence there suddenly pounced down upon him a towering form. Ralph was as much surprised as Slump to recognize Bob Adair, the road detective. The diligent officer gave Slump one or two more whirls, holding on to his coat collar, that made him shriek with affright. Then he threw him reeling ten feet away. "I gave you two hours to get out of town this morning," he observed. "Now then it's two minutes to head straight for the limits, or I'll lock you up as a vagrant." Ike picked up his fallen cap on the run. He darted down the alley in a flash. "I don't know but what I would have liked to find out something more from him," remarked Ralph. "Oh, I overheard the subject of your conversation," said Adair--"about that missing boy, Glen Palmer, I suppose you mean?" "Missing--is he missing, Mr. Adair?" "Since the day after you told me about him, and his grandfather and the queer company he kept," replied Adair. "I went down to the chicken farm to find that young Palmer had sold it out to a neighbor for a song and had vanished." "Why, that is queer," commented Ralph. "I fancied he had got a new lease of life when I started him in business." "Decidedly mysterious, the whole affair," added the road detective. "That will all come out when we see the superintendent. We're both due at his office." "I was just going there," said Ralph. "And I was on my way to meet you," explained Adair. They walked on together for a short distance. Suddenly Adair drew out a bulky pocket book well stuffed with papers. He selected a folded yellow sheet. "Here's something that belongs to you," he said. "There's a good deal to go over, so get that off our minds. Glidden handed it to me this noon." "What is it?" asked Ralph. "A telegram." "So it is. Why--" Ralph paused there. If he had been astonished at the discovery of the board message back at the little station, the present scrap of paper doubly mystified him. It was the mere fragment of a telegram, no heading, no date, and it read: "Advise Ralph Fairbanks, Stanley Junction. Look out for the pacer." CHAPTER XIX ON THE LOOKOUT Ten minutes later Ralph and Bob Adair entered the office of the superintendent of the Great Northern. As they did so, a tall, well-dressed man left by another door. Adair nudged Ralph. "The President of the road," he spoke in a low quick tone. "Yes, I see," nodded Ralph.