"My grandfather has taught me a lot about telegraphy," he admitted.
Ralph walked over to the chart on the wall. The young engineer had learned his Morse alphabet early in his railroad career, and knew something of the system in vogue along the line.
As his eye studied the rude scrawl made with a red pencil, Ralph at once discerned that its dotted lines denoted three divisions of a railway system. From separate dots he traced a line of towns. Above each was a designation, an initial, a double initial, sometimes an additional numeral.
"The mischief!" muttered the young railroad engineer under his breath, "this doesn't look much like a plaything outfit. Why, that is a perfect transcript of the routing chart in the train dispatcher's office at Stanley Junction."
A great flood of dark suspicion crossed Ralph's mind at the discovery of the road chart. A dozen quick questions arose to his lips. Before he could speak, however, there was a hail from the outside.
Glen ran out to the road where a farm hand on horseback had halted. Ralph followed him.
"My grandfather, yes," said Glen breathlessly.
"You told us to sort of keep an eye on him. He came down to our place about an hour ago to get some butter. Scruggins, who lives just beyond here was going to Centerville. Your old man said he wanted to go there, too, to see the new swinging signal bridge over the railroad."
"I was away when it happened, and he would not listen to ma. Scruggins said he would bring him back all right."
"Oh, I must stop him! I must overtake him!" cried Glen in such poignant distress that Ralph was surprised. "Grandfather was away nearly two days before, and pretty near got lost, and I was worried to death. I must go after him, indeed I must! Excuse me, won't you," he pleaded of Ralph.
"I will see you again soon," answered Ralph.
"Do--sure," said Glen. "I have lots to tell you."
The farm hand rode on his way and Glen ran down the road on foot at great speed. Ralph went back slowly to the open house. Once more he inspected the telegraph room. Then with a good deal of thoughtfulness he started homeward.
"There's something queer about all this business," ruminated the young railroader. "That boy's grandfather was certainly in with the two men who escaped from me in the tunnel. He is an expert telegrapher. So is Glen. Ike Slump had something up his sleeve about Glen. That chart of the road has the regular telegraph signal on it. What does this all mean?"