Carhart and Flint, after waiting a long time at the “Eagle, House,” went down to the station, arriving there some time after the outburst of Peet, which was noted at the beginning of the chapter. Tiffany saw them coming, and communicated the news to the superintendent. The engine reappeared, and again coupled up to the forward car. “Everything all right?” called Tiffany. “No,” replied Carhart; “don’t start yet.” The three walked on and joined Old Van by the steps of the rear car. “Well,” growled the veteran, “how much longer are we going to wait, Paul?” “Until Gus comes.” “Gus? I thought he was aboard here.” “No,” said John Flint, with a wink; “he went out last night to see the wheels go round. Here he comes now. But what in--” They all gazed without a word. Three men were walking abreast down the platform, Gus Vandervelt, with a white face and ringed eyes, in the middle. The youngest engineer of the outfit was not a small man, but between the two cooks he looked like a child. “Would you look at that!” said Flint, at length. “Neither of those two Jesse Jameses will ever see six-foot-three again. Makes Gus look like a nick in a wall.” Young Van met Carhart’s questioning gaze almost defiantly. “The cook,” he said, indicating Flagg. “All right. Get aboard.” “Rear car,” cried Old Van, who had charge of the arrangements on the train. This time the bell did not ring in vain. The train moved slowly out toward the unpeopled West, and the engineers threw off coats and collars, and made themselves as nearly comfortable as they could under the circumstances. A few minutes after the start Paul Carhart, who was writing a letter in pencil, looked up and saw Young Van beside him, and tried not to smile at his sorry appearance. “I think I owe you an explanation, Mr. Carhart,” began the young man, in embarrassment which took the form of stiffness. But the chief shook his head. “I’m not asking any questions, Gus,” he replied. Then the smile escaped him, and he turned it off by adding, “I’m writing to Mrs. Carhart.” He held up the letter and glanced over the first few lines with a twinkle in his eyes. “I was just telling her,” he went on, “that the cook problem in Chicago is in its infancy.” CHAPTER II WHERE THE MONEY CAME FROM Doubtless there were official persons to be found at the time of this narrative--which is a matter of some thirty years back--who would have insisted that the letters “S. & W.” meant “Sherman and Western.” But every one who lived within two days’ ride of the track knew that the real name of the road was the “Shaky and Windy.”