THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE
ANY one could see by the air of industry that pervaded the place, that something unusual was going on. Everybody was busy. Three or four switch-engines—noisy little tugs of the rail—were puffing and snorting amid the sea of cars that covered the freight yards. The station agent moved with a quick, nervous step among the clerks, encouraging them by his example to show signs of life. Down at the round-house the day foreman, in a newly washed suit of overclothes, hurried to and fro with crumpled copies of telegrams from the train-master. The boss wiper, with his gang, was clearing the circle in front of the house, of dirty waste and lumps of coal. One of the men was sweeping the turn-table with a new broom. Now a yard engine came by with a freshly painted mail car, and another followed
