"I'll hand this to Mr. Fry," he said. "You don't need to pay it now, though, Glen." "Oh, yes, I want to get out of debt as fast as I can." "You're starting out the right way to do it. Pretty quick action you got on your chicken deal, it seems to me." "Oh, that was luck," explained Glen, brightening up. "There was one special lot among the chickens, about twenty-four of them. They were in a tier of the car that wasn't battered in the smash up. We got them all out safe and sound. They are of a rare breed--they call them Blue Cochins." "Valuable?" "I didn't know till after we got them down to the farm. A man driving by noticed them. They have black eyes instead of the usual red ones, and he said they were very scarce. The next day he came down and offered me five dollars each for two settings of their eggs. Think of it--nearly a half a dollar an egg. I delivered them yesterday, and the man said there are any number of people who would buy the eggs if they knew I had them, and about the choice breed." "Why, this is interesting," said Ralph. "Say, can't you come down and see my layout?" inquired Glen eagerly. "I'd be dreadfully glad." "Why, I might," replied Ralph thoughtfully, consulting his watch. "There's our chance, if you will," said Glen, grabbing the arm of his companion and indicating a short freight train just pulling off from a side switch. "It's three miles and a half to the farm, and that train goes within a short distance of it." They ran for the train. It was composed of empties with a caboose attached. Aboard of this the boys clambered and sat down on the rear platform. "I come down here for the sweepings every morning," said Glen. "To-day and one other day in the week there isn't much to get. One day I got over two bushels and a half, though." "That's pretty fine," commented Ralph. "It's a big item in my feed bill, I can tell you," declared Glen. "I've got a new arrangement in view, too--the grain inspector at Stanley Junction." "Yes, I know him," nodded Ralph. "Well, my good friend the flagman here introduced him day before yesterday, and he told me that all those little bags containing samples are thrown into a big bin and dumped into the dust heap when they're past inspection. After this he's going to have them left in the bin, and I'm going to arrange to have a cartman call once a week and haul the stuff out to the farm." "Friends everywhere, eh, Glen," said Ralph encouragingly. "I'm so glad!" murmured his companion in a low grateful tone. The young railroader calculated that he could visit the farm and get back to Stanley Junction by noon time. At the end of a three miles' jerky run the train slowed down at a crossing and Ralph and Glen left it. "There's the place," said the latter, as they reached the end of a grove, and he pointed to an old, low-built ruin of a house just ahead of them.