“It’s all right, Billy. It wasn’t the new man’s fault. He’s back in the ditch with a broken leg, I should say, from the way he jumped. Old Eighty-six is to blame. She got on the rampage. Took advantage of the greenhorn.”
The conductor came running up.
“How is it?” he cried.
“It’s all right. Number Eighty-six got her nose broke, and served her right, that’s all. Tell the passengers there’s no danger, and get ‘em on board. We’re going to back up to Pointsville. Better send the brakesmen to pick up the other engineer. The ground’s hard tonight, and he may be hurt.”
“I’m going back to talk to the president,” said the conductor emphatically. “He’s in a condition of mind to listen to reason, judging from the glimpse I got of his face at the door of his car a moment ago. Either he re-instates you or I go gathering tickets on a street-car. This kind of thing is too exciting for my nerves.”
The conductor’s interview with the president of the road was apparently satisfactory, for old Number Eighty-six is trying to lead a better life under the guidance of John Saggart.
PLAYING WITH MARKED CARDS.
“I’m bothered about that young fellow,” said Mellish early one morning, to the professional gambler, Pony Rowell.