“No special developments,” he said. “A few more strangers, but none of them has offered to give any trouble. I got the police to railroad a few of them out of town. I think the mayor’s seein’ a light. You know, this strike hasn’t been conducted any too well—or maybe it was because our side of it has been handled right—but the strikers are sort of losin’ heart. Bassett’s made a blamed fool of himself since it started. He’s been drunk most of the time, and had a fight last night, at the lodge meetin’ with Jim Adams, one of the oldest engineers on the road. You know he’s always had a grudge ag’in Adams, anyway—he’s tried t’ do fer him afore this.” “Yes,” said Allan. “We’ve always suspected he tried to send him through the Jones Run bridge by running past it that night it was on fire.” “I don’t doubt he did,” said Stanley. “Anyway, he got white-hot last night. I hear that even the special delegate sided ag’in him, and told him that if it happened ag’in, he’d be fired from the brotherhood. And I hear that Bassett’s drunker’n ever to-day, and threatens t’ cause more trouble at the meetin’ to-night. If he does, I think the jig’s up.” “Well, we won’t count on it. Have you got enough men to patrol the yards thoroughly?” “I’ve got thirty—that ought to be enough. I’ve got a string all around the yards. Nobody can git in who can’t show his business.” “Not even after night?” “Well, o’ course, my men ain’t owls, but they’ll keep open what eyes they’ve got.” “Are the trains moving all right?” “On the dot—and another thing—I hear that the conductors have definitely refused to join the strike. I guess they see which way the wind’s blowin’.” “I’m glad of that—if all the brotherhoods were as sensible.” “Oh, they’ll make you pay fer it the next time they have a grievance,” said Stanley, with a grin. “They’ll remind you how they stood by you, and so will the brakemen.” * * * * * Evening came, and with it, Jack. Allan heard him coming up the stairs, and called to him to come in before he had time to knock. “Come in and sit down,” said Allan. “How’s everything out on the line?” “Foine as silk. An’ it certainly does me good t’ see you settin’ up. That doctor’s all right.” “Oh, it wasn’t the doctor,” cried Allan. “Jack, don’t you know—didn’t they tell you?” Jack’s honest face was a-gleam, as he took Allan’s outstretched hand. “Yes,” he said, “they told me. An’ it’s a happy man I am, Allan West—happier ’n I ever thought I could be!” “And it’s a happy man I am, Jack Welsh,” said Allan. “You can trust her to me, Jack,” he added, earnestly. “I’ll be good to her.” “Don’t I know it, boy! It’s a lucky girl she is—an’ a lucky family. It’s—it’s—Allan, boy, if I’d thought an’ thought, I couldn’ ’a’ thought of anything that would make me happier. Who’s that?” he added, as a heavy step sounded on the stair.