CHAPTER VII
DAVE BISSELL, TRAIN BOY
"I don't understand it at all," exclaimed Ralph.
"Mad—decidedly mad," declared young Clark, "Whew! that was a lively tussle. All the buttons are gone off my vest and one sleeve is torn open clear to the shoulder, and I guess there were only basting threads in that coat of yours, for it's ripped clear up the back."
Clark began to pick up some scattered buttons from the ground. His companion, however, was looking down the alley, and he followed Fogg with his eyes until the fireman had disappeared into the street.
"You're wondering about things," spoke Clark. "So am I."
"I'm trying to figure out the puzzle, yes," admitted the young engineer. "You see, we were both of us wrong, and we have misjudged Mr. Fogg."
"I don't know about that," dissented Ralph's companion.
"Why, he has helped us, instead of hurt us."
