"Bordine."
"Um!"
The peddler sat down on a log near, and crossing his legs, with both hands on the back of his dog—he seemed to have only one now—he gazed thoughtfully into vacancy.
"A strange resemblance," he muttered.
"Permit me to thank you for your kindness, Mr.——"
"Shanks—Hiram Shanks at your service," the peddler filled in.
"I might have drowned but for you. This fire is quite comfortable I assure you, most comfortable indeed."
The steam rose in a cloud about the engineer as he turned about, exposing his clothing to the genial heat.
"I was eating a mighty late supper," said the peddler. "Fact is I'm noways regular at my meals; coz the tarverns won't board me for what it's worth. I bunk out of doors these warm nights, and don't feel afraid with Tige for a companion."
"I should imagine not. That dog is a noble fellow."