"Well, you see--it come in this way. I never told you--about Dick Hart--did I?"
"No--not that I remember," replied Old Wheels.
"He was a man o' our'n--Dick Hart was. As good a fellow--as ever drawed--God's breath. He was working--on our line--a many months ago. He ain't working there now--not him--ain't working anywhere--can't get it. Willing enough--Dick Hart is--and a-breaking his heart--because he can't get it. He's a doomed man--Mr. Wheels--a doomed man!--and might as well--be dead--as alive. Better--a dooced sight better--if it warn't for his wife--and kids."
Jim Podmore was evidently warming up. His theme was powerful enough to master his fatigue. Old Wheels listened attentively.
"It might have happened--to me--it might happen--to me--any night--when I'm dead-beat. What then?" he asked excitedly, to the no small surprise of Snap, to whom this episode was so strange that he stood aside, gazing gravely at his master. "What then?" Jim repeated. "Why, I should be--what Dick Hart is--a-wandering about--in rags--a-starving almost. I should be worse than him--for when I think--of the old woman up-stairs--asleep--and my little Polly--that is my star--my star, Polly is!--and think of them--with nothing to eat--like Dick Hart's old woman and kids--I shouldn't be able--to keep my hands--to myself. And I shouldn't try to--I'm damned if I should!"
Old Wheels laid his hand with a soothing motion on the excited man's shoulder.
"Be cool, Mr. Podmore," he said. "Tell me calmly what you want. You are wandering from the subject."
"No, I ain't," responded Jim Podmore doggedly. "I'm sticking to it. And it ain't likely--begging your pardon--for being so rough--that I can be calm--when I've got what I have got--in my mind."
"What's that?"
Jim Podmore looked with apprehension at Old Wheels, and then turned away his eyes uneasily.