He thought a minute, and then said, "Well, yes; guess I had better. How is it for a ride?"
"Good; just tell the conductor that I told you to get on."
"Thanks; that's clever. I used to know a soldier who used to run up in this country," said the stranger, musing. "Dillon; that's it, Dillon."
"I knew him well," said I. "I want to hear about him."
"Queer man," said he, and I noticed he was eying me pretty sharp.
"A good engineer."
"Perhaps," said he.
I coaxed the old veteran to ride on the engine—the first coal-burner I had had. He seemed more than glad to comply. Ed was as black as a negro, and swearing about coal-burners in general and this one in particular, and made so much noise with his fire-irons after we started, that the old man came over and sat behind me, so as to be able to talk.