"Well, you're too late," and the master mechanic of the Great Northern seemed to turn his back on Ralph, busying himself with some papers on his desk. He was a great, gruff fellow with the heart of a child, but he showed it rarely. A diamond in the rough, most of the employees of the road were afraid of him. Not so Ralph. The young railroader had won the respect and admiration of the official by his loyalty and close attention to duty. In fact, Ralph felt that the influence of the master mechanic had been considerable of an element in his promotion to No. 999. He stepped nearer to the desk, managing to face the would-be tyro. "Too late, sir?" he repeated vaguely. "Didn't I say so? Get out!" The master mechanic waved his hand, and Ralph was a trifle surprised at what seemed a peremptory dismissal. The moving arm of the old railroader described a swoop, grasped the hand of Ralph in a fervent grip, and pulling the young engineer to almost an embrace, he said: "Fairbanks, we had in our family a little boy who died. It's a pretty tender memory with us, but every time I look at you I think of the dear little fellow. He'd have been a railroader, too, if he had lived, and the fondest wish of my heart is that he might have been like you." "Why----" murmured the astonished Ralph. The master mechanic cleared his throat and his great hand swept the moisture from his eyes. Then in a more practical tone he resumed: "I said you was too late." "Too late for what?" "Resigning. You are too late," observed the official, "because Lemuel Fogg has already been here." "Then----" "To tender his resignation, to tell the whole truthful story of the collision on the siding at Plympton. Fairbanks," continued the master mechanic very seriously, "you are a noble young fellow. I know your design to bear the whole brunt of the smash-up, in order that you might save your fireman and the station man down at Plympton. As I said, Fogg was here. I never saw a man so broken. He told me everything. He told me of your patience, of your kindness, your manliness. Lad, your treatment of Fogg under those circumstances shows the mettle in you that will make you a great man, and, what is better still, a good man." "Thank you, sir," said Ralph in a subdued tone, deeply affected despite himself. "For the first time in twenty years' service," continued the official, "I am going to take a serious responsibility on myself which should be rightly shouldered by the company. The Plympton incident is dead and buried. The three of us must hold always the secret close. The black mark is rubbed off the slate." "You have done right--oh, believe me, sir!" declared Ralph earnestly. "I feel sure that Mr. Fogg has learned a lesson that he will never forget, and the blessings of his sick wife, of his ambitious young daughter, will be yours."