"Did you see the watch they gave Davie? Get him to show it to you! It's a dandy--solid gold--got a whole lot of writing on the back--something about 'a tribute to Mr. Dave Minehan's courage and skill in the face of grave danger and difficulty.' He don't say much, but he's as tickled about it as the fellow what got a Christmas-box of sealskin underclothes. Davie's alright, you bet. I'd rather fire for him on 'Old 98' than for any guy I know on a big Mogul. He's a bit rough-like sometimes, but if he can help anybody he's on the job; he'd break his neck to do somebody a good turn." Such was the brakeman's narration of Dave Minehan's final race on "Old 98," on the day that Carlton Mines was levelled by the bush fire. * * * * * The shadows of evening had fallen over Twyford on what is still regarded in Carlton Mines as "disaster day." The afternoon had been a busy one for the inhabitants of the almost verdureless village that is known chiefly for its long lines of coke-ovens. Generous hearts had made shacks and homes have an expansive hospitality that would have seemed incredible before the homeless throng arrived. But after every available lodging device had been resorted to there were many people unprovided for. And so the coke-ovens were the best accommodation that could be offered those still unhoused. In one of these unusual lodging-houses a candle cast its dim light over the figures of two men and a woman who were kneeling in the attitude of prayer. In one corner a black box rested on two backless chairs. It had been made an hour or two before by the local carpenter, and covered with black cloth by the kindly hands of Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson. Little Annette was to be laid away in the early morning, and this was the best that loving hearts could devise in that place and under those circumstances. The manse valises had made their contribution to the final robing of little Annette, and the weeping mother, looking upon what Christ-like friends had done, clasped and kissed the hands that had dealt so kindly with her and her "leetle Annetta." For nearly eight hours the father had walked seeking his wife, and now they were kneeling together in the presence of their dead child.