It put Fogg in better humor to arrive on schedule. The thought of home comforts close by and the captured chickens occupied his mind and dissipated his superstitious forebodings. When they reached the roundhouse the fireman started straight for home. Ralph lingered a few minutes to chat with the foreman, and was about to leave when Fry, the claim agent of the road, came into the doghouse in great haste. "Just the man I want to see, Fairbanks," he said animatedly. "That so?" smiled Ralph. "Yes. Your conductor just notified me of the smashup beyond the limits. It looks clean cut enough, with the tracks cleared, but he says some of the stuff is perishable." "If you list chickens in that class," responded Ralph, "I guess that's right." "That's the bother of it," observed Fry. "Dead salvage could wait, and the wrecking crew could take care of it at their leisure, but--live stock!" "It looked to me as if most of the chickens had got away," exclaimed Ralph. "The car was split and twisted from end to end." "I reckon I had better get on the job instanter," said the claim agent. "How about getting down to the bluff switch, Forgan?" "Nothing moving but the regulars," reported the roundhouse foreman. "You don't need a special?" "No, any dinky old machine will do." "Gravel pit dummy just came in." "Can't you rig her up and give me clear tracks for an hour, till I make investigations?" "Crew gone home." "No extras on hand?" The foreman consulted his schedule and shook his head negatively. Ralph thought of his home and mother, but a certain appealing glance from the claim agent and a natural disposition to be useful and accommodating influenced him to a kindly impulse. "See here, Mr. Fry, I'll be glad to help you out, if I can," he said. "You certainly can, Fairbanks, and I won't forget the favor," declared the claim agent warmly. "You see, I'm booked for a week's vacation and a visit to my old invalid father down at Danley, beginning tomorrow. If I can untie all the red tape from this wreck affair, I'm free to get out, and my substitute can take up any fresh tangles that come up tomorrow." "Can you fire?" inquired Ralph. "I can make a try at it." "Then I'll see to the rest," promised the young engineer briskly. With the aid of wiper Ralph soon got the dummy ready for action. It was a long time since the young engineer had done roundhouse duty. He did it well now, and thanked the strict training of his early apprentice experience. The jerky spiteful little engine rolled over the turntable in a few minutes time, and the claim agent pulled off his coat and looked to Ralph for orders. They took a switch and headed down the clear out track. At a crossing a man came tearing towards them, arms waving, long beard flying, and his face showing the greatest urgency and excitement. "Mishter Fry! Mishter Fry!" he panted out, "I haf just heard--" "Nothing for you, Cohen," shouted the claim agent.