"I don't care a hoot who owns the stock," observed Regan, biting deeply at his blackstrap. "It's the bucko with the overgrown name in the center that interests me--who's he? Do you know him?" "Yes," said Carleton slowly. "I know him." He got up suddenly and walked over to the window, looked out into the yards for a moment, then turned to face the master mechanic. "I know him, and I know most of the others; and I'll say, between you and me, Tommy, that I'm blamed sorry they've got their fingers on the old road. They're a cold, money-grabbing crew, and Campbell's about as human as a snow man, only not so warm-blooded. I fancy you'll see some changes out here." "I turned down an offer from the Penn last week," said the fat little master mechanic reminiscently, "mabbe I----" Carleton laughed--he could afford to. There was hardly a road in the country but had made covetous offers for the services of the cool-eyed master of the Hill Division, who was the idol of his men down to the last car tink. "No; I guess not, Tommy. Our heads are safe enough, I think. When I go, you go--and as the P. M. & K. have been after me before, I guess they'll let me alone now I'm on their pay roll." "What kind of changes, then?" inquired Regan gruffly. "I don't know," said Carleton. "I don't know, Tommy--new crowd, new ways. We'll see." And, in time, Regan saw. Perhaps Regan himself, together with Riley, the trainmaster, were unwittingly the means of bringing it about a little sooner than it might otherwise have come--perhaps not. Ultimately it would have been all the same. Sentiment and H. Herrington Campbell were not on speaking terms. However, one way or the other, in results, it makes little difference. It was natural enough that about the first official act of the new directors should be a trip to look over the new property they had acquired; and if there was any resentment on the Hill Division at the change in ownership, there was no sign of it in Big Cloud when the word went out of what was coming. On the contrary, everybody sort of figured to make a kind of holiday affair of it, for the special was to lay off there until afternoon to give the Big Fellows a chance to see the shops. Anyway, it was more or less mutually understood that they were to be given the best the Hill Division had to offer. Regan kept his pet flyer, the 1608, in the roundhouse, and tinkered over her for two days, and sent for Dan MacCaffery--there'd been a good deal of speculation amongst the engine crews as to who would get the run, and the men were hot for the honor. Regan squinted at old Dan--and squinted at the 1608 on the pit beside him. "How'd you think she looks, Dan?" he inquired casually. The old engineer ran his eyes wistfully over the big racer, groomed to the minute, like the thoroughbred it was. "She'll do you proud, Regan," he said simply.