He found a telegram awaiting him
from Mr. Sparling.
"The greatest work ever done by an advance car. I congratulate
you all. Keep it up," was what Phil read.
Phil rubbed his forehead in perplexity.
"Now, how in the world did he find out about this so soon, I
wonder?" questioned the boy. As a matter of fact, the manager of
the Robinson Show's car, who was a friend of Mr. Sparling, had
wired him of the day's doings. It was too good to keep, and then
again Mr. Sparling's friend was too delighted at the downfall of
Snowden, the man whom he thoroughly disliked, to be at all
jealous of Phil's triumph.
Phil went over to the yardmaster to find out what train he would
be able to go out on that night.
"We are going to send the whole bunch of you out on number 42,"
was the reply.
"What time does number 42 leave?"
"Half-past eleven."
"What do you mean by 'the bunch of us'?"
"All you advance car fellows. I have got to do that. That is
the only train through tonight. You will have to go on that or
wait until tomorrow morning."
"Very well; I do not know as I care whether my rivals go on the
same train or not. It would do me no good if I did object."
That night the unusual sight of four advance cars hooked together
was presented to those who chanced to be in the railroad yards
when number 42 pulled out of the station.
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