"Cancel the judgment," ordered the lawyer. "Now, then, Dorsett, I reckon we can dispense with your company." The baffled conspirators sneaked away with dark mutterings. The lawyer hailed through the speaking tube. "I got so anxious I arranged for a special at Hillsdale," explained Glidden to Ralph. "Just by luck I ran across the lawyer, waiting for a train." It was after Bartlett and the tramp had shut down the furnaces and appeared in the office room and the foreman explained Ralph's clever plans of the night, that the lawyer approached the young train dispatcher and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Young man," he said, "did you ever study law?" "No, sir. Somewhere along the line I would like to, but just now railroading takes up my time." "H'm. Very good. Well, if you ever want to, I'll give you a job." "Thank you, sir." "Yes," added the lawyer, with a bright admiring glance at Ralph's face, "in fact, after your clever work to-night, I think I would be willing to take you into partnership." CHAPTER XXV A WILD NIGHT "Tic-tac!"--"annul train 22--blockade at Fox Center"--"25-25-25-45 stalled at Morey Gap." "Fast freight derailed--switch 19 outside of Abingdon." "Whew!" exploded the first trick man at dispatcher's headquarters. "Did you get all that, Fairbanks?" Ralph nodded, but did not speak. He was too busy for that. His hand was constantly on the key of his instrument, and his ear was bent with almost painful tension to catch every faint vibration of the wires. His eyes jumped with magic swiftness from chart to note sheet and train schedule. Ralph just now was a typical dispatcher in the midst of muddles, calls, cross-calls and piling up business enough to distract the average man. The young railroader confessed to himself that this was the busiest hour of his life. It was a wild, stormy night outside, cozy enough in the warm, well-lighted dispatcher's room. The wind without went howling by shrilly. Great sweeps of snow deluged the window panes. Whistles from the yards sounded hoarse and muffled. Inside that room skilled intelligence and vigilance controlled the midnight workings of the important Great Northern. In a picture view Ralph could see some belated locomotive breasting the drifts of lonely gully and curve. He could imagine a cumbersome freight feeling its way slowly past snow-clouded signals, marooned station men with their instruments knocked dead through fallen wires, and the venturesome repair crew wading through deep drifts to locate the break. And a finger on the key controlled all this mix-up, and intent eye and brain tried to keep the various trains moving. As early as eight o'clock messages had begun to come in fast and thick telling of the great storm of wind and snow, the third of the season, that was sweeping over the Mountain Division of the Great Northern road.