"I've found that out," agreed Nevins. "I don't believe I'll forget it," and he opened the door, from in front of which Jack moved grudgingly, and vanished into the outer darkness. In that instant, too, he vanished from this story, for by daybreak he was speeding west toward Cincinnati. There he bought a ticket for Denver, and somewhere in the west, at the present day, he is no doubt living--let us hope honestly and usefully. CHAPTER XVI ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL The lamp seemed to shine more brightly and the air of the office seemed somehow clearer and cleaner when the door shut behind Nevins and the sound of his footsteps died away. Mr. Schofield arose and shook himself, as though to rid himself of some infection. Then he glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight. "It's time I was getting back to town," he said. "I've got to join the special again in the morning. Isn't there an extra west about due here?" "Yes, sir," Allan answered. "There's one due in about ten minutes." "Well, I'll take it; I dare say the conductor can fix me up a berth in the caboose. You'd better come with me, Jack," he added, as Allan set the signal to stop the train. "Your wife's probably trying to figure out what's happened to you, and I think she's entitled to an explanation." "Not much sleep will she be gittin' this night," Jack chuckled. "She'll be havin' me tell th' whole story foive times, at least!" "And, by the way, Allan," went on Mr. Schofield, casually, "you needn't report for duty to-morrow night." Allan's face flushed. Of course there would have to be an investigation. He had forgotten that. "Very well, sir," he said, quietly, though he could hear the heavy breathing which told that Jack Welsh did not think it well, at all. "Because you know," the trainmaster went on, smiling queerly, "that the day trick here is vacant now, and, of course, it naturally falls to you. I will get some extra man to take it to-morrow, so that you can get a good night's rest--you need it. You will report for duty the next morning." Allan's heart was in his throat, and he dared not trust himself to speak, but he held out his hand, and the trainmaster gripped it warmly. "And I'm mighty glad," said Mr. Schofield, not wholly unaffected himself, "that you've come out of this affair so well. I was afraid for a time that you wouldn't--and I couldn't have felt any worse if it had been my own boy. There she comes," he added, in another tone, as a whistle sounded far down the line. "Come on, Welsh; we mustn't keep her waiting. Good-bye, Allan," and he sprang down the steps. But Allan held Jack back for a whispered word. "After all, Jack," he said, brokenly, squeezing the broad, honest, horny palm in both his own, "it was you who saved the train, not I. You deserve the reward, if there's to be one. I didn't do anything--only stood staring here like a fool--" "Cut it out, boy; cut it out," broke in Jack, gruffly. "You did all ye could. I jest happened t' be there."