“All right, got it, good!” he voiced exultantly, as he returned the pencil to Ralph and carefully stowed the slips of paper in his pocket. Then he arose to his feet. He smiled queerly as he gazed down at his tattered garments and grimed and blistered hands.
“Pretty looking sight, ain’t I?” he propounded to the young engineer. “Had to do it, though. Glad I did it. Got the actual details, see?” 106
“What of, may I ask?” inquired Ralph.
“New idea. Save fuel, make the engine go faster. Been figuring on it for months,” explained the strange boy. “I live at Bridgeport.”
“Yes, I know,” nodded Ralph. “I saw you there.”
“Did? Glad of that, too. If you feel friendly enough, maybe you’ll advise me what to do in my distressing plight. Stranger here, and lost my pocketbook. It fell out of my pocket while I was hanging on to the trucks. Not a cent.”
“That can be fixed all right, I think,” said Ralph.
“Clothes all riddled—need a bath.”
“You had better come with me to the hotel, Mr. Graham,” spoke Ralph. “I know enough about you to be interested in you. I will vouch for you to the hotel keeper, who will take care of you until you hear from home.”
“Yes. Got money in the bank at Bridgeport,” said Archie Graham. “As I was telling you, I’ve struck a new idea. You know I’ve been trying to invent something for a number of years.”