And in a way this was so; in another it wasn’t. It was not the wound that was to blame, the doctors were positive about that; but Coogan, it was pitifully evident, was not the same. Physically, at the end of a month, he left the hospital apparently as well as he had ever been in his life; but mentally, somewhere, a cog had slipped. His brain seemed warped and weakened, simple as a child’s in its workings; his memory fogged and dazed, full of indefinite, intangible snatches, vague, indeterminate glimpses of his life before. One thing seemed to cling to him, to predominate, to sway him--the Devil’s Slide. Regan and Carleton talked to him, trying to guide his thoughts and stimulate his memory. “You remember you used to drive an engine, don’t you, Chick?” asked Carleton. “Engine?” Coogan nodded. “Yes; in the Devil’s Slide.” “505,” said Regan quickly. “You know old 505.” Coogan shook his head. Carleton tried another tack. “You were in a bad accident, Coogan, one night. You were in the cab of the engine when she went to smash. Do you remember that?” “The smash was on the Devil’s Slide,” said Coogan. “That’s it,” cried Carleton. “I knew you’d remember.” “They’re always there,” said Coogan simply, “always there. It is a bad track. I’m a railroad man and I know. It’s not properly guarded. I’m going to work there and take care of it.” “Work there?” said Regan, the tears almost in his eyes. “What kind of work? What do you want to do, Chick?” “Just work there,” said Coogan. “Take care of the Devil’s Slide.” The super and the master mechanic looked at each other--and averted their eyes. Then they took Coogan up to his boarding-house, where he had moved after Annie and the little one died. “He’ll never put his finger on a throttle again,” said Regan with a choke in his voice, as they came out. “The best man that ever pulled a latch, the best man that ever drew a pay-check on the Hill Division. It’s hell, Carleton, that’s what it is. I don’t think he really knew you or me. He don’t seem to remember much of anything, though he’s natural enough and able enough to take care of himself in all other ways. Just kind of simple-like. It’s queer the way that Devil’s Slide has got him, what? We can’t let him go out there.” “I wonder if he remembers Annie,” said Carleton. “I was afraid to ask him. I didn’t know what effect it might have. No; we can’t let him go out on the Devil’s Slide.” But the doctors said yes. They went further and said it was about the only chance he had. The thing was on his mind. It was better to humor him, and that, with the outdoor mountain life, in time might bring him around again. And so, while Regan growled and swore, and Carleton knitted his brows in perplexed protest, the doctors had their way--and Coogan, Chick Coogan, went to the Devil’s Slide. Officially, he was on the pay-roll as a section hand; but Millrae, the section boss, had his own orders.