Nowhere in sight was Griscom; nowhere within hearing either, it seemed. Like the two rough fellows who had just approached the engine, Griscom has disappeared.
"Why, this is mysterious," declared the young fireman in an anxious tone of concern. "Where can he have disappeared to?"
"I don't like the looks of things," spoke Trevor. "Something is wrong, Fairbanks," he continued. "Look ahead there—I just saw a man on the cow-catcher."
Now Ralph was more than mystified, he was alarmed. He seized a rod and jumped again to the ground. Sure enough, on the cowcatcher sat a man, huddled up comfortably.
"Who are you?" demanded Ralph, keeping his distance and eyeing the intruder suspiciously.
"Call me a tramp, if you like," laughed the fellow.
"You must get off of that cowcatcher."
"Who says so?"
"I do—against the rules. Come, move on."
"You try to put me off, youngster," drawled the fellow, with an ugly look in his eyes, "and I'll use this," and he drew a revolver from his pocket. "I want a free ride, and I intend to have it."
"Will you make me stop at the tower to get you put off?" threatened Ralph.
