"Good man," commented the engineer, who rejoiced in Brockway's happy lack of departmental pride. "Help yourself to anything you can find."
Brockway found a grimy suit of overclothes and took off his coat.
"Goin' to put 'em on here and go through the train in uniform?" laughed the engineer.
"Why not?" Brockway demanded. "I'm not ashamed of the blue denim yet. Wore it too long."
He donned the craftsman's uniform. The garments were a trifle short at the extremities, but they more than made up for the lack equatorially.
"How's that for a lightning change?" he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the din and clangor of the engine. "Just hang on to my coat and hat till I get back, and I'll swap with you again." And gathering up the handful of tools, he climbed back over the coal and disappeared through the door of the mail car.
V
AT THE MEETING-POINT
Brockway made his way unrecognized through the train, and found the Falstaffian cook awaiting him in the kitchen of the Naught-fifty. Five minutes later, he was hard at work on the disabled stove, quite reckless of soot and grime, and intent only upon making a workmanlike job of the repairs. The narrow compartment was none too well ventilated, and he was soon working in an atmosphere rivalling that of the hot-room in a Turkish bath. Wherefore he wrought arduously, and in due time the leaky joint was made whole.