He nodded slowly and solemnly. “They say he ’s a hard man. But he shall hear it to his face--what I ’ve got to say!” “You ’re going to ask him for work?” “I ’ve asked it--three times. I ’ll ask it four times,” said the man. “And after that I ’ll curse him.” The boy made a quick motion. The old face lifted itself, with a tragic look, toward the car. “Is there aught a man can do?” he demanded. “They ’ve shook the strength out of me for forty year on the road.... They ’ll not take it from me! ... They ’ve drove me up and down--cold and rain--wind that cut my in’ards--till I ’m fit for naught but the switch.... They ’ll not take it from me!” It was a solemn cry. The boy listened to it, for a moment, as it died away. The train roared its echo mockingly. He reached out a hand and laid it on the rough knee. “Don’t go down today, Tomlinson,” he said slowly. “I want to see him first.” The old man stared at him with grim eyes. “Ye think ye can help me with him?” he asked sharply. “I _know_ I can. But you must wait. I have my mother to look after. I can’t be at the office--yet. Wait till I ’m there. You take the next train back and I ’ll write you.” “I ’ll not go back,” said the old man slowly, “I ’ll not face Ellen without news--good or bad. But I ’ll stop off to my daughter’s--in Hudson. Ye can write me there and I ’ll come.” “I ’ll write you before the week ’s up,” said John. “You may not need to come down.” “I thank ye, Johnny,” said the old man. The train had halted at Hudson and he got stiffly to his feet. “It ’s what Eddie al’ays said about you, you ’d help a man out--gi’e you time!” He chuckled feebly, with returning hope, and climbed down from the car. His mother’s glance met him as he returned to her side. He nodded. “He was going down to see the president. But I ’ve got him to wait.... They ought to do something for him,” he said. “Is he strong enough to work?” “He’s not strong--except in an emergency, maybe--but he ’s faithful. That ought to count.” “Yes, that ought to count.” She said the words softly under her breath. XII JOHN was not back at the office “within the week.” He forgot the office and Simeon Tetlow and Tomlinson. He had eyes only for a white face looking up to him from the pillow and his ear listened only for low moans that broke the darkness. The spirit of courage had driven the thin body a step beyond the line where the soul has its way, and the body had turned and struck back.