e-tracked there for a
way-train, and never in the course of Big Ben's experience had he seen
an old fireman greet a would-be as Toomey welcomed the tall "young
feller" in the dirty cap, shirt, and overalls who there clambered into
the cab. Twice, Ben could have further sworn, he had heard Toomey say
"sir," a word Toomey used to no one less than the division
superintendent.

Somewhat grudgingly and suspiciously, therefore, had Ben nodded
greeting and looked the "young feller" over. He did not extend his
hand. The new-comer had on a pair of oiled-buck gauntlets, "soldier
gauntlets," such as the cavalry used to have at Reynolds, that "all the
boys in the cabs are stuck on." Even at the hardest kind of shovelling
they outlived every other kind a dozen weeks, and the fireman was a
lucky malefactor who could induce a soldier to part with his.

And though the "young feller's" cap and clothing were strictly and
unimpeachably professional and grimy, it was the face no less than the
gloves and boots that told Ben Tillson this was no needy seeker after a
job. The boots were new and fine, laced daintily up the front, and
showed their style even through the lack of polish and the coating of
dust and ashes. The gauntlets also, though worn and old, were innocent
of grease. This was no cub fireman, said Ben, resentfully, as he
revolved in mind a scheme or two that should take the stuffing of
conceit out of him, when suddenly he paused. "Why, certainly," Ben had
it, just another case such as he had been reading about, how the sons
of successful railway magnates, discarding wealth and luxuries, had
determined to learn the business from the bottom up and fit themselves
for future eminence in railway circles. The "young feller" must be a
Gould or a Vanderbilt, a Ledyard, a Huntington, a son of somebody at
the financial head of things. While sacrificing none of his steady
self-reliance or self-respect, Ben Tillson decided to treat his new
fireman, assistant to the old, with all due civility. He would cringe
or kowtow to no one, but, like the sturdy citizen he was, Ben deemed it
wise to keep on the good side of the powers. It was necessary, however,
that the new-comer should understand who was boss on that engine, and
even as they stood waiting at the Chimney Ben had taken occasion to
say, "I see you're not stuck on shovelling, young man"; then with a
most knowing and suggestive wink, "I reckon you'd rather do tennis or
tiddlywinks," and w