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saw Zeph Dallas distinctly and recognized him. The latter looked up as the young engineer uttered an irrepressible shout. He started to wave his hand. Then he shrank down on the car step as if seeking to hide himself.

Ralph stood gazing after the coach until it had disappeared from view. From the look of things he decided that Zeph was not casually stealing a ride. Something about him suggested a sense of proprietorship—a certain official aspect as if he had a right to be where Ralph had seen him, was, in fact, in charge of the car.

"A queer car—the queerest old relic I ever saw," mused Ralph. "I'm going to look into this affair."

"Say, Mr. Fairbanks," spoke little Torchy as the young engineer entered the roundhouse; "just saw an old friend of ours."

"Did you?" spoke Ralph. "You don't mean Zeph Dallas, do you?" Rh