“The train’s gone and left me,” said he, with ever so slight a shakiness in his voice, as he thought of the train speeding on its way and with it his precious pass.

“Well, there are other trains,” declared a second man.  “You can take the next one.”

The quaver in Bob’s voice, however, had reached the ears of the station master, and he asked kindly: 

“How far were you going?”

“To Fairfax, Oklahoma.”

With the evident purpose of reassuring Bob, the station master said: 

“Oh, well, it will only make the difference of twelve hours or so in reaching Fairfax.  There’s another train goes through at four o’clock this afternoon.”

“It isn’t the delay I mind,” returned Bob, “but the conductor has my pass!”

“You travelling on a pass?” exclaimed another incredulously, as though unable to reconcile Bob’s shabby apparel with the possession of such a privileged means of transportation.

“My, that is bad,” mused the station master.  “But don’t worry.  I’ll have word telegraphed to the conductor to leave your pass with the agent at Kansas City, and you can get it there.  Come with me, and we’ll see about sending the message.”

“But how shall I get to Kansas City without any ticket?” asked Bob, as he accompanied his new-found friend into the station.  “I only have a few dollars, which I shall need when I get to Fairfax.  I suppose it would cost a lot to buy a ticket?”

“If you had a pass, it won’t be necessary for you to pay.  I’ll arrange that all right.”

Randolph, the city in which Bob was marooned, being a division headquarters of the railway, there was a train despatcher’s office in the station, and thither the agent led Bob.

Going over to one of the telegraphers, the station master explained the situation briefly.

“What do you want me to wire?  Jenkins is the conductor, isn’t he?”

“Yes.  Say, ’Jenkins, Aboard No. 6:  Leave’,” and then he turned to the boy, asked his name, and continued:  “’Bob Chester’s pass with the ticket agent at Kansas City.  Will send Bob on the next train.  Robinson,

“‘Station Master, Randolph.’”

Scarcely had the operator forwarded the message than he suddenly leaned over his instrument, listened intently, and then exclaimed: 

“I’ll bet Jenkins will be glad to get your wire about the boy.  Was there any trouble about the pass?” and he looked at Bob.

“Yes,” responded the youth, and told them about the conductor’s suspicions.  “But why did you ask?”

“Because I caught a message going to Jenkins from Chicago.”

“It said the pass was all right, didn’t it?” queried Bob anxiously.

“It did,” replied the operator, with emphasis, “and more, too.  Said you were a particular friend of ‘Old Man’ Perkins, and advised Jenkins to treat you well, as one man had got into trouble through being uncivil to you.”