"I hear dere vas some boxes. Sthop! sthop! I've got the retty gash." "Ready-Cash Cohen," exclaimed Fry to Ralph. "Always on hand when there's any cheap wreck salvage lying around loose. That fellow seems to scent a wreck like a vulture." "I've heard of him," remarked Ralph with a smile. They had free swing on the out track until they neared the scene of the wreck. Here they took a siding and left the dummy, to walk to the spot where the two freight cars had gone over the embankment. "Hello!" suddenly ejaculated the claim agent with tremendous surprise and emphasis. "Excuse me, Mishter Fry, but that salvage--" Ralph burst out into a hearty peal of laughter. Clinging to the little bobtail tender of the dummy was Ready-Cash Cohen. "Well, you're a good one, Cohen." "If I vas'nt, vould I be Chonny-on-de-spot, Mishter Fry?" chuckled Cohen cunningly. He followed them as they walked down the tracks. When they reached the point where the two freights had gone over the embankment, Fry clambered down its slant and for some time poked about the tangled mass of wreckage below. "Vill dere haf to be an appraisal, my tear friend?" anxiously inquired Cohen, pressing forward as the claim agent reappeared. "No," responded Fry shortly. "There's a chicken car with live and dead mixed up in the tangle. Come, Cohen, how much for the lot?" "Schickens?" repeated Cohen disgustedly--"not in my line, Mishter Fry. Schickens are an expense. Dey need feeding." "Won't bid, eh?" "Don't vant dem at any price. But de boxes, Mishter Fry--vot's in dose boxes?" "See here," observed Fry, "I'm not giving information to the enemy. There they are, badly shaken up but they look meaty, don't they? If you want to bid unsight unseen, name your figure." "Fifty tollars." "Take them." The salvage dealer toppled down the embankment with a greedy promptness. The claim agent winked blandly after him. "I expected it," said Fry, as a minute later Cohen came toiling up the embankment his face a void of disappointed misery. "Mishter Fry, Mishter Fry," he gasped, "dey are looking glasses!" "Found that out, did you?" grinned the freight agent. "Dey vos smashed, dey vas proken, every last one of dem. Dey are not even junk. My tear friend, I cannot take dem." "A bargain's a bargain, Cohen," voiced Fry smoothly. "You've made enough out of your deals with the road to stand by your bid. If you don't, we're no longer your customer." "I von't have dem. It was a trick," and the man went down the track tearing at his beard. "There's kindling wood there for somebody free for the taking," remarked Fry. "The chicken smashup isn't so easy." "Many down there?" inquired Ralph. "Yes, most of them are crushed, but a good many alive are shut in the wire tangle. The best I can do is to send a section man to pry them free. It's heartless to leave them to suffer and to die." "A lot of them got free," observed Ralph.