For Allan, the days passed happily, for one serious cloud was lifted from his life. Dan Nolan had disappeared. He had not been seen for weeks, and every one hoped that he would never be seen in that neighbourhood again. Jack had taken good care to spread the story of the fallen rock, and Nolan was wise to keep out of the trainmen’s way. “He thinks I saw him that day,” remarked the foreman, “an’ he’s afeard of a term in th’ penitentiary. Well, he’ll git it; if not here, somewheres else.” One trouble still remained, for Reddy showed no sign of improvement. His aversion to all his old friends seemed rather to increase, and he would wander away for days at a time. With this development of vagrant habits, he fell naturally in with other vagrants; played cards with them under the big coal-chute, rode with them in empty box-cars,—in a word, degenerated utterly from the happy, industrious Reddy of other days. Still, he showed no disposition to harm any one, so his friends deemed it best to let him go his way, hoping against hope that time might work a cure. His wife had been given the position of janitress of the depot building, and so provided for the family. Physically, Allan had never been in such splendid condition. Constant work in the open air had hardened his muscles and tanned his face; he was lean and hard, his eyes clear, his nerves steady. He was always ready for his bed at night, and always ready for his work in the morning. He felt within himself an abounding health and vitality, that brought him near to nature, and made him love her great winds and tempests. The only things he missed were the books to which he had always been accustomed. He was usually too tired in the evening to do more than read the newspaper; but he was gaining for himself a first-hand experience of life more valuable than any reflection of it he could have caught from the printed page. The foundations of his education had been well laid; now he was laying the foundations of experience. Somehow, for the time being, books seemed to him strangely useless and artificial. He was drinking deep of life itself. And as the days passed, Allan grew to know the trainmen better. He was admitted to the freemasonry of their fellowship, and sat with them often in the evenings at roundhouse or yardmaster’s office, listening to their yarns, which had a strange fascination for him. It was at the roundhouse that engineers and firemen met, summoned by the caller to take their engines out; at the yardmaster’s office, conductors and brakemen reported. And the boy found all of them alike prepared for what might befall, ready, instinctively, without second thought, to risk their lives to save the company’s property or to protect the passengers entrusted to their care.