While Myles was trying to soothe him, the child, who was more frightened than hurt, put up a little hand, and, patting its father’s face, said:
“Bobby was coming to you, papa, but he fell down and got hurted. His foot hurts now.”
The father was Jacob Allen, one of the best-known men on the A. & B. road. He had just come in, as he did every other night at the same hour, in charge of a through freight train. At this point he was relieved, and could spend every other night in his home near the station. His wife and little Bob were in the habit of coming as far as the platform to meet him. But this evening Mrs. Allen was detained at home, and the child had slipped away alone unnoticed.
Great tears rolled down the man’s begrimed and weather-beaten cheeks as he tried to thank Myles for what he had done, and to tell him how dark and cheerless his home would be without its bit of golden-haired sunlight.
Myles made light of his service and escaped from the other’s overpowering gratitude as soon as possible, promising to call and see the child, and find out how he was getting along, on the morrow. Before he left the man had learned his name, and the last words he heard were:
“If ever the time comes when Jake Allen can lift a hand for you, or say a word that will in any way serve you, Mr. Manning, you may count on his doing it, so long as he has breath left in his body. And who knows but the time may come sooner than you think!” he added significantly.
As Myles, hot, bruised, and covered with dust and cinders, re-entered the hotel almost the first person he met was Ben Watkins, who exclaimed in astonishment at his appearance. Myles told him in a few words what had happened, and, pushing him into a chair, Ben said:
“Wait there a minute, old man, and I’ll fix you all right.”
He returned quickly, bringing a great tumbler of something that foamed and sparkled and tinkled with cool bits of ice. Without asking or caring what it was Myles thirstily drained the glass saying:
“That’s the very thing I wanted, and it was awfully good of you to think of it, Ben.”