"That's what the conductor says, too," said Clark. "He told the station agent so. They nearly had a fight. 'Color blind!' he told the station agent and challenged him to find green lights on No. 999 if he could. The station man was awfully rattled and worried. He says he knew a special was on the list, but being new to this part of the road he acted on Rule 23 when he saw the green lights. He sticks to that, says that he will positively swear to it. He says he knows some one will be slated, but it won't be him." "What does the conductor say?" inquired Ralph. "He says Rule 23 doesn't apply, as the white lights prove. If there was any trickery or any mistake, then it's up to the fireman, not to the engineer." At that moment, happening to glance past Clark, the young engineer caught sight of Lemuel Fogg. The latter, half crouching near a drive wheel, was listening intently. The torch he carried illuminated a pale, twitching face. His eyes were filled with a craven fear, and Ralph tried to imagine what was passing through his mind. There was something mysterious about Fogg's actions, yet Ralph accepted the theory of the conductor that the station man had made a careless blunder or was color blind. "You see, it isn't that the smash up amounts to much," explained Clark, "but it might have, see?" "Yes, I see," replied Ralph thoughtfully. "Then again," continued Clark, "the conductor says that it delayed a test run, and there's a scratched locomotive and a busted construction car." "I'm thankful that no one was hurt," said Ralph earnestly. When the next start was made, Fogg was taciturn and gloomy-looking, but attended strictly to his duty. Ralph voted him to be a capital fireman when he wanted to be. As an hour after midnight they spurted past Hopeville forty minutes to the good, he could not help shouting over a delighted word of commendation to Fogg. "I said you were a brick, Mr. Fogg," he observed. "You're more than that--you're a wonder." Fogg's face momentarily lighted up. It looked as if he was half minded to come out of his shell and give some gracious response, but instantly the old sullenness settled down over his face, accompanied by a gloomy manner that Ralph could not analyze. He half believed, however, that Fogg was a pretty good fellow at heart, had started out to queer the run, and was now sorry and ashamed that he had betrayed his weakness for drink. "Maybe he is genuinely sorry for his tantrums," reflected Ralph, "and maybe our narrow escape at the siding has sobered him into common sense." What the glum and gruff fireman lacked of comradeship, the young passenger made up in jolly good cheer. He was interested in everything going on. He found opportunity to tell Ralph several rattling good stories, full of incident and humor, of his amateur railroad experiences, and the time was whiled away pleasantly for these two acquaintances.