"Mad--decidedly mad," declared young Clark. "Whew! that was a lively tussle. All the buttons are gone off my vest and one sleeve is torn open clear to the shoulder, and I guess there were only basting threads in that coat of yours, for it's ripped clear up the back." Clark began to pick up some scattered buttons from the ground. His companion, however, was looking down the alley, and he followed Fogg with his eyes until the fireman had disappeared into the street. "You're wondering about things," spoke Clark. "So am I." "I'm trying to figure out the puzzle, yes," admitted the young engineer. "You see, we were both of us wrong, and we have misjudged Mr. Fogg." "I don't know about that," dissented Ralph's companion. "Why, he has helped us, instead of hurt us." "Yes," said Clark, "but why? It's nonsense to say that he didn't start out on your trip fixed up to put you out of business if he could do it. It is folly, too, to think that he didn't know that this Billy Bouncer, relative of that old-time enemy of yours back at Stanley Junction, Jim Evans, had put this gang up to beat you. If that wasn't so, why has he been hanging around here all the morning in a suspicious, mysterious way, and how does he come to swoop down on the mob just in the nick of time." "Perhaps he was planning to head off the crowd all the time," suggested Ralph. "Not from the very start," declared Clark positively. "No, sir--I think he has had a fit of remorse, and thought better of having you banged up or crippled." "At all events, Fogg has proven a good friend in need, and I shall not forget it soon," observed Ralph. When they came out into the street the hoodlum crowd had dispersed. They entered the first tailor shop they came to and soon had their clothing mended up. "There's a moving picture show open," said Clark, after they had again proceeded on their way. "Let's put in a half-hour or so watching the slides." This they did. Then they strolled down to the shops, took in the roundhouse, got an early dinner, and went to visit the museum at the Mechanics' Exchange. This was quite an institution of Bridgeport, and generally interested railroad men. Clark was very agreeable to the proposition made by his companion to look over the place. They found a fine library and a variety of drawings and models, all along railroad lines. "This suits me exactly," declared Clark. "I am not and never will be a practical railroader, but I like its variety just the same. Another thing, a fellow learns something. Say, look there." The speaker halted his companion by catching his arm abruptly, as they turned into a small reading room after admiring a miniature reproduction in brass of a standard European locomotive. "Yes, I see," nodded Ralph, with a slight smile on his face, "our friend, Wheels."