"In my desk yonder," continued the master mechanic, "I have his written pledge that drink is a thing of the past with him. I told Fogg that if ever he disappointed me in my belief that he was a changed man, a reformed man, I would leave the service feeling that my mistaken judgment did not do justice to my position with the Great Northern. As to you, ready to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others--you are a young man among thousands. Drop it now--get out!" ordered the master mechanic, with a vast show of authority. "It's all under seal of silence, and I expect to see you and Fogg make a great team." "Mr. Fogg's house has just burned down," said Ralph. "It would have broken him down completely, if his discharge had been added to that misfortune." "Burned down?" repeated the master mechanic, in surprise and with interest. "How was that?" and Ralph had to recite the story of the fire. He added that he had heard Fogg had but little insurance. "Wait a minute," directed the official, and he went into the next office. Ralph heard him dictating something to his stenographer. Then the typewriter clicked, and shortly afterwards the master mechanic came into the office with a sheet of foolscap, which he handed to Ralph. A pleased flush came into the face of the young railroader as he read the typewritten heading of the sheet--it was a subscription list in behalf of Lemuel Fogg, and headed by the signature of the master mechanic, with "$20" after it. "You are a noble man!" cried Ralph irresistibly. "No wonder it's a joy to work for you." "Down brakes there!" laughed the big-hearted fellow. "Don't draw it too strong, Fairbanks. Don't be more liberal than you can afford now," he directed, as Ralph placed the paper on the desk, and added to it his subscription for $10. "You can tell Fogg we're rising a few pennies for him. I'll circulate the subscription among the officials, and if any plan to have the roundhouse crowd chip in a trifle comes to your mind, why, start it down the rails. Get out." "All right," cried Ralph. "You've said that twice, so I guess it's time to go now." "One minute, though," added the master mechanic. "You and Fogg will run No. 999 on the Tipton accommodation to-morrow. It's a shift berth, though. I don't want you to go dreaming quite yet, Fairbanks, that you're president of the Great Northern, and all that, but, under the hat, I will say that you can expect a boost. We are figuring on some big things, and I shouldn't wonder if a new train is soon to be announced that will wake up some of our rivals. Get out now for good, for I'm swamped with work here."