"Poor duffer!" he muttered. "And yet he seems cheerful enough, and looks happy. But to think of having to creep round on stilts or pull himself about on this contrivance! I mustn't forget to call on him; I dare say he hasn't many friends. He seems a nice chap, too; and he'd be frightfully good-looking if he wasn't so white."
It was almost dark when he reached the repair-shop near the railroad, and the proprietor, a wizened little bald-headed man, was preparing to go home.
"Can't fix anything to-night," he protested shrilly. "It's too late; come in the morning."
"Well, if you think I'm going to wheel this thing back here to-morrow you've missed your guess," said Neil. "All it needs is to have a chain link welded or glued or something; it won't take five minutes. And the fellow that owns it is a cripple and can't go out until this machine's fixed. Now go ahead, like a good chap; I'll hold your bonnet."
"Eh? What bonnet?" The little man stared perplexedly.
"I meant I'd help," answered Neil unabashed.
"Help! Huh! Lot's of help, you'd be to any one! Well, let's see it." He knelt and inspected the tricycle, grumbling all the while and shaking his head angrily. "Who said it was broke?" he demanded presently. "Queer kind of break; looks like you'd pried the link apart with a cold-chisel."
"Well, I didn't; nor with a hot chisel. Besides, I've just told you it didn't belong to me. Do I look like a cripple?"
"More like a fool," answered the other with a chuckle.
"You're a naughty old man," said Neil sorrowfully, "and if you were my father I'd spank you." The other was too angry to find words, and contented himself with bending back the damaged link and emitting a series of choking sounds which Neil rightly judged to be expressions of displeasure. When the repair was finished he pushed the machine angrily toward the boy.