progress made since he had first visited Farwell Gibson in this place.
"Come in," said Van, as Mr. Grant alighted from the wagon.
"Well, this is decidedly a railroady place," observed the president of the Great Northern with a faint smile.
One half of the rambling place was a depot and railway offices combined. There were benches for passengers. In one corner was a partitioned off space, labeled: "President's Office." On the wall hung a bunch of blank baggage checks, and there was a chart of a zigzag railway line, indicating bridges, water tanks and switch towers.
"Mr. Gibson," called out Van to a man seated at a desk, "this is Mr. Grant, the president of the Great Northern."
"Eh? what! My dear sir, I am glad to see you," said the eccentric hermit. "You came about your nephew, I presume? Take the gentleman to his room, Van," directed Farwell. "I am something of a doctor and he is resting quite comfortably."
Mr. Gibson greeted Ralph very cordially. When Van returned, he insisted on the young fireman inspecting the work on the railroad.
"Does that look like business?" he inquired, as
