“I guess I'll manage to reach Antioch,” he added, as he ran across to the siding and swung himself into the cab. A faded blue blouse and a pair of greasy overalls were lying on the seat in the cab. He removed his coat and vest and put them on. Durks, who had followed him, climbed up on the steps. “You'll have to run slow, Mr. Oakley, because it's likely the heat has spread the rails, if it ain't twisted them loose from the ties,” he volunteered. For answer Oakley thrust a shovel into his hands. “Here, throw in some coal,” he ordered, opening the furnace door. Durks turned a sickly, mottled white. “I can't leave,” he gasped. “You idiot. You don't suppose I'd take you from your post. What I want you to do is to help me get up steam.” The operator attacked the coal on the tender vigorously. He felt an immense sense of comfort. Dan's railroad experience covered nearly every branch. So it chanced that he had fired for a year prior to taking an office position. Indeed, his first ambition had been to be an engineer. It was now quite dark, and, the fires being raked down, he lit a torch and inspected his engine with a comprehensive eye. Next he probed a two-foot oiler into the rods and bearings and filled the cups. He found a certain pleasure in the fact that the lore of the craft to which he had once aspired was still fresh in his mind. “Baker keeps her in apple-pie order, Joe,” he observed, approvingly. The operator nodded. “He's always tinkering.” “Well, he's done tinkering for us, unless I land in a ditch to-night, with the tender on top of me.” A purring sound issued from the squat throat of the engine. It was sending aloft wreaths of light gray smoke and softly spitting red-hot cinders. Dan climbed upon the tender and inspected the tank. Last of all he went forward and lit the headlight, and his preparations were complete. He jumped down from the cab, and stood beside Joe on the platform. “Now,” he said, cheerfully, “where's that fireman, Joe?” “He's gone home, Mr. Oakley. He lives at Car-son, too, same as Baker,” faltered the operator. “Then there's another man whose services we won't require in future. We'll have to find some one else.” “I don't think you can,” ventured Durks, reluctantly. Instinct told him that this opinion would not tend to increase his popularity with Oakley. “Why not?” “They just won't want to go.” “Do you mean to tell me that they will allow Antioch to burn and not lift a hand to save the town?” he demanded, sternly. He couldn't believe it. “Well, you see, there won't any one here want to get killed; and they will think they got enough trouble of their own to keep them home.” “We can go up-town and see if we can't find a man who thinks of more than his own skin,” said Dan. “Oh, yes, we can try,” agreed Durks, apathetically, but his tone implied an unshaken conviction that the search would prove a fruitless one.