“There’s more of your luck,” commented the chief.  “Mr. Nichols will probably give you a reward.”

Bob, however, was more concerned about regaining possession of his pass and ascertaining when his train would leave than in speculation as to whether or not he would be rewarded, and he made no bones about saying so.

“Never mind the pass, now,” returned the messenger, who was to escort him to the vice-president’s office.  “We’ll get that in plenty of time so you won’t miss your train.”

Thus reassured, Bob turned to the detectives, saying: 

“Good-bye, if I don’t see you again.”

“Oh, you’ll see me,” replied the chief.  “I shall have you make a deposition to support the confession.”

And amid wishes for the best of success, Bob and the messenger set out for the company’s offices.

Direct to the vice-president’s rooms Bob was taken.

As the messenger entered with him, a tall, gray-haired man arose from a desk and came forward with outstretched hand, announcing: 

“I am Mr. Nichols, and I’m glad to know you, Bob.”

For a moment the official gazed earnestly at the honest face before him, then continued: 

“There’s no use telling you that I and every man who works for our railroad is grateful to you for enabling us to catch the would-be train-robbers.  You know that.  I want you to tell me how we can reward you.”

“I wasn’t thinking of any reward, Mr. Nichols,” answered Bob.  “Mr. Perkins has been so kind to me that when I heard those bad men planning to stop the train, I only thought of repaying his kindness by preventing them if I could.”

At these manly words, which showed that Bob was possessed with gratitude, in addition to his other good qualities, the vice-president again shook his hand cordially, exclaiming: 

“You’ve got the right stuff in you, Bob.  I’ll let Perkins hear what you said.  And now, sit down, and tell me all about your trip, beginning at New York.”

Amazed that so important a man should evince interest enough in him to devote the time necessary to relate his story, Bob sank into the comfortable chair indicated by Mr. Nichols and began.

At first he was embarrassed, but with the kindly words now and then uttered by the vice-president, he regained his composure.

When the recital was ended, Mr. Nichols thrummed upon his desk for several minutes, and then asked: 

“What would you like most in the world, Bob?”

Scarcely hesitating an instant, the boy replied: 

“To prove that Len Dardus did not tell the truth when he said my father was crazy because father wrote me he had entrusted five thousand dollars to him for my education.”

The expression that spread over Mr. Nichols’ face as he heard this wish clearly showed surprise, for he had expected that, boy-like, Bob would have requested money, a rifle, or the like, and again he thrummed the table before saying: