Fogg had forgotten all about his fears of the day previous when he reported at the roundhouse the next morning. He grinned at his young comrade with a particularly satisfied smirk on his face, and made the remark: "You see before you, young man, a person full of the best chicken stew ever cooked in Stanley Junction. I say, Fairbanks, if you'd kind of slow up going past Bluff Point we might grab off enough more of those chickens to do for Sunday dinner." "We? Don't include me in your disreputable pilferings, Mr. Fogg," declared Ralph, "you may get a bill for the two fowls you so boastingly allude to." "Hey." "Yes, indeed. In fact," continued Ralph with mock seriousness, "I don't know but what I may have a certain interest in enforcing its collection." The young engineer recited the episode of the salvage sale of the chickens to Glen Palmer. "Quite a windfall, that," commented Fogg. "Another fellow to thank his lucky stars that he ran up against Ralph Fairbanks. Sort of interested in this proposition myself. I can hardly imagine a finer prospect than running a chicken farm. Some day--" The rhapsody of Fireman Fogg was cut short by the arrival of the schedule minute for getting up steam on the Overland racer. The bustle and energy of starting out on their regular trip made engineer and helper forget everything except the duties of the occasion. As they cleared the limits, however, and approached Bluff Point, Ralph watched out with natural curiosity, and Fogg remarked: "Hope a few more chickens drop into the cab this morning." Ralph slowed up slightly, they struck the bluff curve, and as they neared the scene of the freight wreck of the previous day he had a good view of the embankment where the two abandoned cars lay. "Some one there," commented Fogg, his keen glance fixed on the spot. "Yes, our young friend Glen Palmer and an old man. That must be the grandfather he talked about. They are very industriously at work." The two persons whom Ralph designated were in the midst of the wreckage. The old man was prying apart the netted compartment of the car and into this the boy was reaching. Near at hand was an old hand cart. It carried a great coop made of laths, and was half filled with fowls. As the train circled the spot the boy below suspended his work and looked up. He seemed to recognize Ralph--or at least he knew his locomotive. Ralph nodded and smiled and sounded three quick low toots from the whistle. This attracted the attention of the old man, who, standing upright, stared up at the train, posed like some heroic figure in plain view. "I say!" ejaculated Fogg with a great start. The young engineer was similarly moved. In a flash he now traced the source of the puzzling suggestiveness of something familiar in the face of Glen Palmer the day before. "Did you see him?" demanded Fogg. "Yes," nodded Ralph. "The old man--he's the one we saw with those two suspicious jailbird-looking fellows down the line yesterday."