“Whut yeou been doin’ on the railroad?”

“Running an engine,” explained Merry.

“Runnin’ it? Haow?”

“Engineer.”

“Vot?” gasped Hans.

“Come off!” palpitated Ephraim.

“I have come off,” smiled Frank. “I am out of a job now.”

“Haow is that?”

“Railroad made a reduction of wages, there was a strike, big fight over it, rival road scooped all the business, my road went to pieces.”

“An’ naow—whut?”

“The rival road has scooped the road I worked on—absorbed it. A lot of old engineers have taken the places of the men who used to run on the Blue Mountain road. I’ve been trying for a show, but I’m so young they don’t want to give me anything. Looks like I’d have to get out of here and strike for something somewhere else.”

“Waal, that’s too darn bad!” drawled Ephraim, sympathetically. “But haow’d you ever git to be ingineer, anyhaow?”

“Worked my way up. Began as engine-wiper in the roundhouse, got to be fireman, then engineer. Right there came the trouble, and now I’m on the rocks.”

The eyes of the Vermonter glistened.

“If the hanged old railroad hadn’t went up the spaout, you’d bin runnin’ that in a year!” he cried.

“Yaw,” nodded Hans.

“Yeou’re a hummer!” declared Ephraim. “Yeou’ve got lots of git there in ye, an’ that’s whut does the trick. But I swan to man, it must have seemed tough to yeou to have to git right aout an’ work like a Trojan.”

“Yaw,” put in the Dutch boy. “Vork nefer had nottinks to done mit you pefore dot.”

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