middle and then started down toward the opposite end. Beyond was the West River stop, and then several minutes away was the Fender Street stop. Larue got off. He'd been up to Nevers' place once before.
He walked along the still, dark streets until he came to a dingy building, even older and more run-down than his own. He mounted the steps to the third floor and knocked on the door.
"Come in," said the old man's voice, and Larue went inside.
"Ah, my friend," said the motorman.
"Hello, Pete," said the foundry worker nervously. "I had to come over. Sorry about getting sore this afternoon. That was very dumb of me. After all, I know the time you've been in. this business, it's kinda tough to have them take away your living, but—" he brightened, "I bet you can find plenty else. I was even thinking about the foundry...."
"Jack," said the old motorman raising a hand, "don't worry about me or the el."
"Damnit, I don't care about the el," said Larue. "I just want to help you tie in to something else."
Nevers shook his head quietly. "I can't never leave the el," he stated simply.
Larue took some gum out of his pocket, bit into a piece and offered one to the old man.
"No thanks. Nice of you to come, Larue, but you see it's not so simple as me just changing jobs. It's like, well, like taking one of those cars and doing something else with it. I'm kinda the el, that's all."
Larue's glance took in the bare room. Poor old fellow, probably didn't have enough to eat as it was. There wasn't a sign of food anywhere.
"I just wanted to know how it was, Pete."
He crossed to the motorman and stuck out his hand. The old man grasped it appreciatively in a strong grasp. His handshake was surprisingly steel-like as he shook his head again and said: "I don't worry. If the el, she goes, my troubles are over all the same."
Larue wrinkled his head perplexedly. "I'd like to see if we couldn't do something for you at the foundry."
The old man disengaged his hand from the laborer's and put it heavily on Larue's shoulder.
"Thanks, lad," he said, "thanks, but I won't be needing anything."
Larue groped his way down the stairs and out into the street, feeling that he hadn't accomplished very much. There was a chilliness that he carried with him as he walked toward the Fender Street station. He remembered how very cold the old man's hand had been. Oh well, he'd done his best.
He shrugged and mounted the steps to the elevated platform. On the way home, from force of habit he stood in the very front of the first car as it rocked back across the river. But Larue found himself more and more concerned with the old man despite his unsatisfactory visit. His hands felt the metal sides of the car, and the coldness of the steel reminded him of the old man's handshake. He shook his head. Nevers probably wasn't any too well.
Not many days later, Jack boarded the el and saw somebody outside Nevers' compartment at the head of the train. Another elderly gentleman, he was, with a frayed el-line coat and a heavy gold chain across his vest. Larue shrugged to himself. Even the conductors would be in a tough spot when they pulled down the old structure. As the cars neared Jack's station, he pushed forward to say hello to Pete. The other elderly man looked at him closely but seemed to accept him on Nevers' warm welcome.
"Well," said the conductor, whose name was Philpot, "looks like we'll all be looking for something new."
Pete shook his head with that same dogged stiffness that Larue had noticed before.
"Sure," the foreman of his foundry
