At that moment, in advance of the pressing crowd outside, big Denny Sloan, the yard watchman, came into view.
"Drop that, Tim Forgan!" he ordered quickly. "Don't touch that boy, or you'll be sorry for it to your dying day!"
[CHAPTER XIII--MAKING HIS WAY]
Big Denny confronted the roundhouse foreman, an obstructing block in his path. He was one of the heaviest men in the service, built like an ox, and immensely good-natured.
Just now, however, he was also immensely excited and serious, and the crowd stared at him curiously, and at Forgan in an astonished way.
"This is none of your business. Don't you interfere, don't you try to shield that miserable blunderer!" shouted the foreman.
"Hold on, Tim," advised the watchman, putting out his big arm, and abruptly checking Forgan in a forward dash.
"Do you know what he's done!" howled Forgan.
"Do you?"
"Do I----"