“I heerd that a boy discovered it, and signaled the train,” said his neighbor. “How did he do it?” “Waved a shawl or somethin’.” “That don’t seem likely; where would a boy find a shawl?” His informant looked puzzled. “Like as not he borrowed it of Mrs. Brock,” he suggested. Mrs. Brock was the woman living in the small house near by, so that the speaker’s surmise was correct. It struck John Fox as possible, and he said so. “I guess I’ll go and ask the Widder Brock,” he said. “She must have seen the train, livin’ so near as she does.” “I’ll go along with you.” The two men soon found themselves on Mrs. Brock’s premises. “Good-mornin,’ Mrs. Brock,” said John Fox. “You’ve come nigh havin’ a causality here.” “You’re right there, Mr. Fox,” answered Mrs. Brock. “I was awful skeered about it, for I thought my Nancy might be on the train. When the boy run into my yard----” “The boy! What boy?” asked Fox, eagerly. “It was that boy you are guardeen of.” “What, Harry Vane?” ejaculated Fox, in genuine surprise. “Tell me all about it, Mrs. Brock.” “Well, you see, he ran into my yard all out of breath, and grabbin’ a red tablecloth from the line, asked me if I would lend it to him. ‘Land sakes!’ says I, ‘what do you want of a tablecloth?’” “‘The track’s washed away,’ he said, ‘and I want to signal the train. There’s danger of an accident.’ Of course, I let him have it, and he did signal the train, standin’ on the fence, and wavin’ the tablecloth. So the train was saved!” “And did he bring back the tablecloth?” “Of course, he did, and that wasn’t all. He brought me a ten-dollar bill to pay for the use of it.” “Gave you a ten-dollar bill!” exclaimed John Fox, in amazement. “That was very wrong.” “You hadn’t no claim on the money if you are his guardeen. A collection was took up by the passengers, and given to the boy, and he thought I ought to have pay for use of the tablecloth, so he gave me a ten-dollar bill--and a little gentleman he is, too.” “A collection taken up for my ward?” repeated Fox, pricking up his ears. “Well, well! that is news.” John Fox was already on his way back to the road. He was anxious to find his ward. CHAPTER III HARRY DISAGREES WITH HIS GUARDIAN Harry and his guardian met at the dinner table. Mrs. Fox had provided a boiled dinner, to which Harry was ready to do justice. Mr. Fox seemed unusually pleasant. “I find, Harry,” he said, clearing his throat, “that you have already been distinguishing yourself.” “Then you heard of the narrow escape of the train?” said Harry. “Yes, I heard that but for your presence of mind, and Mrs. Brock’s tablecloth, there would have been a smash-up.” “What on earth are you talkin’ about, John Fox?” demanded his wife, curiously.