“Like enough,” said Hugh absently. His face had an absorbed look--The eyes beneath the fur cap gleamed like little points of light. When they reached the engine, the light broke and ran over his face. He mounted to the cab and laid his hand on the lever--“I ’ll take her down, Johnny--Don’t you worry.” He nodded to the young man standing below. The face cleared. “All right, Hugh--It’s the President of the Road you ’re carrying, you know.” “Aye--It ’s Sim Tetlow--I know,” said Hugh. He opened the lever a little. The young man hurried toward the car. “All right!” asked Simeon as he came in. The train was in slow motion. “All right,” said John. Supper was brought in and they ate it leisurely, watching the light change and fade upon the hills and darkness settle down outside. Simeon’s eyes came back to the young man’s face. “I mean to know this country,” he said, “every mile of it.” The young man smiled a little. “Don’t you know it now!” “I don’t know anything,” said Simeon. “I was born last night.--I was born last night,” he said looking at the black window in a reverie. “Who lives along here?” He nodded toward the darkness. “What kind of people!” John peered out. “Winchendon, we just passed, was n’t it? I don’t know. I’ve never been here.” “Ever lived outside of Bridgewater!” said Simeon. “No, sir.” “Tell me about that.” “About--!” The lifted eyebrows held it. Simeon nodded. “About anything. Steel works--button shop--everything.” John thought a minute--“You know as much as I do--more. They do a big business.” “What kind of men?” asked Simeon brusquely. “Men?--In the works--you mean?” “In them--over them--on top--outside, inside,” said Simeon. “You know ’em, don’t you? Lived with ’em--been to school with ’em--?” “Oh--if you mean that--!” A smile had come into the puzzled face. “I mean that,” said Simeon. He had lighted a cigar and was watching the tip intently. The cigar went out and was relighted many times before the story of Bridgewater was finished. The slow mind of the narrator wandered in and out through the past, nudged by keen, quick questions from the nervous listener beside him. Little things loomed large--big things faded and slipped away in John’s vision. It had been a mighty day for Bridgewater when the county house was built; but Simeon scoffed at the court-house and listened with rapt face to the story of two truckmen that John knew who had quarreled over their stand and made up, and joined against a third and held up the transportation of Bridgewater for three days. Simeon sighed a little. “I ’ve never lived,” he said slowly. “I’ve made money--I’ve sat with my face close to a board, making money, studying moves--I’ve played a good game--” He said it grimly--“But I ’ve never lived yet. My father always said ‘Go in to win,’ and there was n’t any mother.” He said the words between the puffs.... “And then I married--” He waited a minute--“Yes--I guess I lived--a year. But I did n’t know-then.”