the superintendent, "that extends from Trestle Summit to Wood's Hollow."

"Yes, sir."

"The most troublesome section on the entire line of the road. But go on with your story."

"It's a bad section, sir, and it usually takes five regular hands to keep it in repair. But for two weeks a couple of the men have been off on account of illness, while our foreman, Mr. Gammon, has not been on duty half of the time. This left one man, with myself, to look after the road. That, with the rains we have been having, has given us more than we could do as it ought to be done. But Mr. Gammon refused to put on any more help, so Mr. Baxter and I have done the best we could.

"Day before yesterday it was after dark when we had finished a repair which had taken us all the afternoon, at Trestle Summit, the extreme upper end of our section.

"The northern mail train was then due, and we were waiting for that to pass, so we could have a clear track to go home, when a man, coming from the direction of Woodsville, told us the bridge, two miles beyond the station, had been washed away. The stranger didn't look like an honest man; and we knew, if he had been, he would told them at the station. But the bridge had been threatened for several days, and, as we had not seen it for thirty-six hours, we knew there was more than an even chance that the tramp was right.

"'Let's take our hand-car and go on ahead of the train. It's our only chance.'

"We weren't long in getting the car upon the track. But we had barely sprung aboard when the mail head-light burst into sight less than half a mile away!

"'We are too late!' gasped Mr. Baxter; and, whether from fright, excitement or illness, he fell in a swoon.

"The car had started down the grade. Pulling Mr. Baxter on, so he would not fall off, I lent my strength to the car's momentum, and we shot down the track like lightning.

"In my excitement, I had forgotten that it would require my arm to hold in check the speed of the car. In fact, it had been known to get beyond the management of its drivers at one point several times. But I had given it a start, and it wasn't long before it was beyond my control. Then, all I could do was to cling to the platform, expecting every moment to be my last. We went so fast the wheels didn't seem to touch the tracks, only now and then, and we appeared to be flying through the air, going faster and faster.

"Glancing back once, I saw the engine-light as the train thundered over the summit, and at increased speed shot down after us! But we were not likely to be overtaken, going at our flying rate.

"How the hand-car kept the track I do not know; but, before I could realize it, we had reached the valley, crossed Runaway Bridge, and were rushing up the ascent toward the station.

"As we began to lose speed, the train began to gain on us, and I knew the engineer was doing his best to make up for lost time.

"For the last half-mile it looked as though we should be overtaken, but we came in with the cow's nose at our heels.

"I told them what we had done, and as soon as they got over their surprise a party went ahead to examine the bridge."

"Well, what was the result?" asked the superintendent, who had listened with great interest to the boy's thrilling, yet straightforward, account of his hazardous ride. "You took a fearful risk."

"The bridge was not gone, sir, and the train passed over in safety. The tramp had lied to us."

"And you had your dangerous ride for nothing?"

"Yes, sir, unless you could consider a notice to quit work a reward. Mr. Gammon accused Mr. Baxter of being intoxicated, and said we had got caught on the track to tell that story to get out of a bad scrape. I knew it was useless to talk with him, so I have come to you."

"What sort of a job do you want?" asked General Lyons, showing by his tone that he had not been displeased by the boy's story.

"Anything that is honest, sir, and will give me fair wages, with a chance to rise."

"So you have an eye to the future. Perhaps you hope to have the management of a road yourself some time."

"It shall be no fault of mine, sir, if I do not."

"Nobly said, my boy; and it is possible you hope to be superintendent of the Pen Yan."

"I mean to do my best for it, sir." And then, as if frightened by the boldness of his speech, he added, "I only meant to say I am going to do my duty."

"And if you stick to that purpose as faithfully as I think you will, success will at last crown your efforts. I will speak to Mr. Minturn of you and he will doubtless give you a situation. Good-day."

The superintendent turned back to his business problems, and the others in the room followed the example of their chief, disappointed at the sudden termination of the interview.

The boy, however, seemed loth to leave. He started away, went a few steps and paused.

Then coming back to the railing, he said, with less firmness than formerly:

"If you, please, sir, I had rather you would not leave my case in Mr. Minturn's hands."

"So Mr. Minturn knows you?" asked the railroad king, sharply, vexed at this second interruption.

"He does not like me, and he would never give me a situation. I—"

"Well, that is no fault of mine. But I haven't any more time to lose with you."

Seeing it was useless to say more, the boy made his departure, trying to feel hopeful, but fearing the worst.

CHAPTER II.

Scarcely had the youth left the railroad company's headquarters, when a tall, spare man, with faultless dress and cleanly-shaven face, entered the apartment, going straight to the superintendent's desk, smiling and nodding to the clerks as he passed them.

He was Donald Minturn, the assistant superintendent, who had a smile for every one, but as treacherous as the charm of the serpent.

"Hilloa Minturn!" greeted his chief; "you are back sooner than I expected. By-the-way, you must have met a boy as you came in. He was after a situation, and I was careless enough not to ask him his name. Call him back if it is not too late. I think we might do worse than—"

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Minturn, "has that fellow had the audacity to come here for another job? He has been discharged from his section this very week."

"Then you know him, Minturn? Come to think of it, he told me so. How stupid I am to-day! What is his name?"

"That he couldn't have told you himself, if you had asked him, general. He is a sort of waif of the switch-yard. Jack Ingleside—you knew Jack—he was engineer on the old Greyhound, afterwards took to drink and went to the bad—well, as I started to say, Jack found this boy in the caboose one morning as he was starting from Wood's Hollow. He wasn't more than three years old,