"Well, you present a truly remarkable proposition," observed Ralph.

"Isn't it? It's a reality, all the same. And it's the key to a situation worth hundreds of thousands."

"You mystify me," acknowledged Ralph,--"allowing you are in earnest."

"Absolutely in earnest. No joshing. I'm quite interested, too, for I'm one of the two men who have built the railroad so far."

"Who is the other?"

Van shook his head.

"That's a secret, for the present. I think you'll know soon, though--soon as you see Mr. Gibson."

Ralph had to be content with this. He comprehended that there was some basis to Van's railroad pretensions, and felt very curious concerning the same.

At about eleven o'clock that night Van's predictions as to the difficulties in the way of progress were fully verified.

They were apparently in the midst of an untrodden forest. The brush was jungle-like, the ground one continuous sweep of hill and dale.

It took one breathless, arduous hour to cover a mile, and their clothes and hands were scratched and torn with thorns and brambles.

"It's a little better beyond the creek," said Van. "A man could hide in a wilderness like this a good many years in a safe way, eh, Fairbanks?"

"Yes, indeed," answered Ralph, and mentally wondered if his companion was alluding to the mysterious Farwell Gibson.

They were a wearied and travel-worn pair as they lay down to rest at the first token of daybreak. It was at the edge of a level expansive sweep surmounted by a dense growth of trees.

"We're nearly there," proclaimed Van.

"How near?" interrogated Ralph.

"You see that hill?"

"Yes."

"That's our last climb."

"I'm thankful," said Ralph.

They tramped up the slope after a bit. Once over its edge Ralph, looking ahead, made out a low rambling log house. It was about half a mile away, and smoke was coming out of its chimney.

"Now then," said Van with a smile, "I reckon this is about as close as you need come, for the present--it's a great deal closer than many others have come."

"This is a very isolated spot," said Ralph.

"That's Mr. Gibson's house yonder," continued Van. "I'll go on alone, see him, report, and come back and advise you."

"That's business," said Ralph.

"Just wander around and amuse yourself," recommended Van. "You may find something to interest you."

Ralph grew tired of sitting alone and waiting for Van. As his recent companion had advised, he took a stroll. There seemed a break in the timber about one hundred feet to the left. Ralph proceeded in that direction. He paused at a ten foot avenue cut neat and clean through the woods, and stood lost in contemplation.

Far as he could see across the hill this break in the timber continued.

The brush had been cleared away, the ground leveled here and there, some rudely cut ties were set in place, and the layout showed a presentable and scientifically laid put and graded roadbed.

"I wonder," said Ralph thoughtfully, "if this is a part of Van's boasted railroad? It looks all right as far as it's gone."

What Ralph scanned represented a great deal of labor, that could be discerned at a glance. He knew enough about survey work to judge that a master mind had directed this embryo railroad project.

Ralph was still inspecting the work when a shrill whistle signaled the return of Van.

"It's all right," he announced as he came up to Ralph. "I've told Mr.

Gibson everything. He will see you."

"That's good," said Ralph.

He followed Van to the house in the distance. As he neared it he observed that a man stood in the doorway.

This individual was powerfully built, wore a full bushy beard, and had a keen, piercing eye.

He scanned Ralph closely as he approached, and then, standing partly aside, with a not ungraceful wave of his hand welcomed Ralph to the hospitality of his house.

"You are Mr. Gibson?" said Ralph, feeling impelled to say something.

"Yes, young man, I am that person, and this is the office of the Dover and Springfield Short Line. Come in."

CHAPTER x.x.x--THE RIGHT OF WAY

The peculiar announcement of Ralph's host was so grandiloquent, and his manner so lofty and important, that the young railroader smiled despite himself.

Certainly Ralph decided the Dover & Springfield Short Line had its headquarters in a particularly isolated place, and its presentation of physical resources was limited.

"I never heard of that road before," observed Ralph.

"Probably not," answered his host--"you will hear of it, though, and others, in the near future."

Ralph did not attach much importance to the prediction. He had seen at a glance that Gibson was an erratic individual, his hermit life had probably given birth to some visionary ideas, and his railroad, simmered down to the tangible, had undoubtedly little real foundation outside of his own fancies and dreams.

Ralph changed his mind somewhat, however, as he crossed the threshold of the door, for he stood in the most remarkable apartment he had ever entered.

This was a long, low room with a living s.p.a.ce at one end, but the balance of the place had the unmistakable characteristics of a depot and railway office combined.

In fact it was the most "railroady" place Ralph had ever seen. Its walls were rude and rough, its furniture primitive and even grotesque, but everything harmonized with the idea that this was the center of an actual railroad system in operation.