“I’ve got to do it,” he said to himself, as he went along in the direction of the home of Lemuel Fogg. “Somebody has got to take the responsibility of the collision. Adams, the new station man at Plympton, is innocent of any blame. It would be a terrible misfortune for him to lose his job. Fogg has sickness in his family. The truth coming out, might spoil all the future of that bright daughter of his. As to myself—why, if worse comes to worse, I can find a place with my good friends on the Short Line Railway down near Dover. I’m young, I’m doing right in making the sacrifice, and I’m not afraid of the future. Yes, it is a hard way for a fellow with all the bright dreams I’ve had, but—I’m going to do it!”
The young engineer had made a grand, a mighty resolve. It was a severe struggle, a hard, bitter sacrifice of self interest, but Ralph felt that a great duty presented, and he faced its exactions manfully.
The home of Lemuel Fogg the fireman was about four blocks distant. As Ralph reached it, he found a great roaring fire of brush and rubbish burning in the side yard.
“A good sign, if that is a spurt of home industry 86 with Fogg,” decided the young railroader. “He’s tidying up the place. It needs it bad enough,” and Ralph glanced critically at the disordered yard.
Nobody was astir about the place. Ralph knew that Mrs. Fogg had been very ill of late, and that there was an infant in the house. He decided to wait until Fogg appeared, when he noticed the fireman way down the rear alley. His back was to Ralph and he was carrying a rake. Fogg turned into a yard, and Ralph started after him calculating that the fireman was returning the implement to a neighbor. Just as Ralph came to the yard, the fireman came out of it.
At a glance the young engineer noted a change in the face of Fogg that both surprised and pleased him. The fireman looked fresh, bright and happy. He was humming a little tune, and he swung along as if on cheerful business bent, and as if all things were coming swimmingly with him.
“How are you, Mr. Fogg?” hailed Ralph.
The fireman changed color, a half-shamed, half-defiant look came into his face, but he clasped the extended hand of the young railroader and responded heartily to its friendly pressure.
“I’ve got something to tell you, Fairbanks,” he 87 said, straightening up as if under some striving sense of manliness.
“That’s all right,” nodded Ralph with a smile. “I’m going back to the house with you, and will be glad to have a chat with you. First, though, I want to say something to you, so we’ll pause here for a moment.”