"If you lose your life, what's the use of keeping your fingers?" Westy said.
"Sure," I said; "they would only be a nuisance."
"But I mean it," Connie said; "I heard that. If a man works on a railroad long enough he gets killed."
"If he lives long enough he dies," I said.
"There's a large percentage of mortality," Connie said.
"A large which of whatness?" I asked him; "stand up and speak clearly so all the class can hear."
"All right," he said; "it's true."
"It's all right if you have your private car," Wig said. "All you have to do is to sit back and take it easy."
"Sure, if you're in your private car it's all right," Connie said.
By that time we had come to the car and Pee-wee was the first one to go up the steps. Now I don't know whether maybe it was because we had been talking about railroading that Pee-wee thought he'd play brakeman, but anyway, like the crazy kid he was, as soon as he was on the platform he grabbed the wheel that's connected with the brake and turned it out of its ratchet and twirled it around, shouting, "All aboard! All aboard!"