ing the journals critically with the back of his hand as he moved along.
At sight of Bunty, the engineer laid his oil-can on the slide-bars and grinned as he extended his hand. "How are you, Bunty?" he asked.
And Bunty, accepting the proffered hand, replied gravely: "I'm pretty well, Mr. Masters, thank you."
"Glad to hear it, Bunty. How did you get here?"
"I comed up with the wrecker-train. It's a' awful smash."
"Is it, now! Think they'll have the line cleared soon?"
"Oh, no," Bunty replied, eyeing the cab of the big engine wistfully. "Not for ever and ever so long."
Masters' eyes followed Bunty's glance. "Want to get up in the cab, Bunty?"
"Oh, please!" Bunty cried breathlessly.
"All right," said Masters, boosting the lad through the gangway. Then warningly: "Don't touch anything."
And Bunty promised.
It was only four hundred yards up to the wreck; but that was enough. Masters and his firemen left their train and went to get a view at close quarters. When it was all over, it was up to the wrecking boss and the engine crew of Number Two. Flannagan swore he blocked the trucks of the cars on the incline; but Flannagan lied, and he got clear. Masters and his mate had no chance to lie, for they broke rules, and they got their time.
Be that as it may, Bunty sat on the driver's seat of
