from his seat, a certain firm, purposeful expression on his face.
"I've got to do it," he said to himself, as he went along in the direction of the home of Lemuel Fogg. "Somebody has got to take the responsibility of the collision. Adams, the new station man at Plympton, is innocent of any blame. It would be a terrible misfortune for him to lose his job. Fogg has sickness in his family. The truth coming out, might spoil all the future of that bright daughter of his. As to myself—why, if worse comes to worse, I can find a place with my good friends on the Short Line Railway down near Dover. I'm young, I'm doing right in making the sacrifice, and I'm not afraid of the future. Yes, it is a hard way for a fellow with all the bright dreams I've had, but—I'm going to do it!"
The young engineer had made a grand, a mighty resolve. It was a severe struggle, a hard, bitter sacrifice of self interest, but Ralph felt that a great duty presented, and he faced its exactions manfully.
The home of Lemuel Fogg the fireman was about four blocks distant. As Ralph reached it, he found a great roaring fire of brush and rubbish burning in the side yard.
"A good sign, if that is a spurt of home in-
