Tom urged his pony forward to the station from which Hazelton had called him. “Watch this---just watch it!” begged Harry. Clank! clank! clank! Tom Reade, gazing in fascination, saw the last spike of the last rail being driven into place. “Two sidetracks and switches already up!” called Harry. Tom threw his bridle to one of the workmen, then sprang from his horse. Out of the station came Mr. Newnham, waving a telegram. “Our first train, with passengers, has just left the station at Brand’s Ranch junction, a hundred and ten miles away,” shouted the president of the road. “The train should be here long before ten o’clock.” From the crowd a cheer greeted the announcement. “There’s nothing left but to wait to win,” continued Mr. Newnham. Five hundred voices in the crowd cheered the announcement. A group of five Denver politicians smiled sardonically. Tom pushed his way gently through the crowd, glancing inside the station. There was no one there, save an operator. Closing the door behind him, Tom crossed to a seat and sank wearily upon it. Here he sat for some minutes, to be discovered by the telegraph operator when the latter came out to light the lamps in the waiting room. “Mr. Reade is all in, I guess,” thought the operator. “I don’t wonder. I hope he goes to sleep where he sits.” Ten minutes later the receiver of one of the up the terminal station. The operator broke in, sending back his response. Then a telegram came, which he penned on paper. “Mr. Reade,” called the operator, “this is for you.” Tom sat up, brushing his eyes, and read: “If you can spare time wish you would ride down track to point about two miles west of Miller’s where brook crosses under roadbed. Have something to show you that will interest you. Nothing serious, but will fill you with wonder. My men all along line report all safe and going well. Come at once.” (signed) “Dave Fulsbee.” Tom’s first instinct was to start and tremble. He felt sure that Fulsbee had bad news and was trying to conceal the fact until he could see the young chief engineer in person. “But that’s really not Dave’s way,” Reade told himself in the next breath. “Fulsbee talks straight out from the shoulder. What has he to show me, I wonder! Gracious, how tired I am! If Fulsbee knew just how I feel at this moment he wouldn’t send for me. But of course he doesn’t know.” Stepping outside, Tom looked about, espying his pony standing where it had been tied to one of the porch pillars of the station. “I’ll get Harry to ride with me,” Reade thought, but he found his chum engaged in testing a stretch of rails near the station, a dozen of the college students with him. “Pshaw! I’m strong enough to ride five miles alone,” muttered Tom. “Thank goodness my horse hasn’t been used up. Never mind, Tom Reade. To-morrow you can ride as far as you like on the railroad, with never a penny of fare to pay, either!” Unnoticed, the young chief engineer untied his horse in the dark, mounted and rode away.