"I think I should like to take his place, if anything," said I.
Ned took a look at the box.
"I tell you what it is," said he, "the prettiest design for a monument over Jack's grave would be a box just like that—all cut in marble, of course—with Jack's name and age on the door, and beside it a signal-pole struck by lightning and broken off in the middle, or something of that sort."
A slight noise, or else the allusion to the signal-pole, caused us to look up. There was Jack coming down, with an oil-can in his hand! He had been at the top oiling the pulleys, and had probably heard every word we said, for there was a quiet smile all over his face.
"Good morning, Jack," said Phaeton, who seldom lost his presence of mind.
"Good morning, boys. I'm glad to see you," said Jack.
As soon as Ned and I could recover from our abashment, we also said good morning.
"Is there anything I can do for you to-day?" said Jack, as he set away the oil-can, observing that Phaeton had the little frame and a small drawing in his hand.
"Yes, sir," said Phaeton. "I want to get your advice about a little invention that I've been making."
"It's a new kind of railroad," said Ned; "and we thought you'd be the one to know all about railroads. Beats these common railroads all to nothing. Why, three months after ours is introduced, and the public understand it, they'll have to take up this track and sell it for old iron."