At the local bank Ralph amazed the proprietor by demanding that the bags be locked up in his strongest vaults as the property of the Great Northern railroad.
Then he hurried to the office of the company railroad operator at Dunbar Station.
There was a brief explanation, a quick call for headquarters, the urgency signal, 25, and Ralph could fancy loyal old John Glidden at headquarters throwing open the entire lines for final orders in the great pay car mystery case.
East, west, south the messages flew: to the general superintendent, to Bob Adair, to the marshal, to the paymaster at Stanley Junction.
The unobtrusive station operator stared in bewilderment at the quick, natty stranger, who seemed to have no trouble in keeping track of a dozen different messages at once. It took Ralph fully an hour, with details, repeats and clean up. He arose from the instrument with a satisfied face.
"I've done my work, Zeph," he said, "and I'm going back to headquarters. You are to wait here for instructions from Mr. Adair. They will come sharp and brisk, don't be afraid. We have started the ball rolling, the rest will be easy."
Ralph had just entered the train dispatcher's office after a good night's sleep and sat down at his usual post of duty.
He felt pretty good, for he was rested up, and Glidden had spared a minute from some rush business to tell him that Adair had coralled the whole crowd of conspirators, bank bullion and all.
The general superintendent of the Great Northern, however, seemed to feel even better than Ralph himself. He had swung into the office with bright eyes and a beaming face, and while his challenge might sound to the uninitiated like a conventional call down, the head official looked as if he would like to grab the hand of his loyal, useful young assistant and hurrah at him.
"Getting back to routine, sir," said Ralph with a pleasant laugh.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," began Ralph.
"Don't. Then I'll show you," announced the official with a forcible chuckle. "Can't have insubordination and men out of place in this service. There's your desk," and seizing Ralph by the arm the superintendent led him past the counter into the little office rarely occupied, and marked on its door "Chief Dispatcher--Private."