he two young men, one of them stockily,
strongly built, the other very slender and erect, were absorbed in
eager talk. Not until the conductor was within five yards of them did
Graham note his coming and signal "Hush." Abruptly came the challenge:

"'Ain't you heard her whistle yet, Toomey?" and the tone implied that
sheer neglect could be the only explanation for Toomey's failure in
case no whistle had been heard.

"Nary whistle," was the indifferent answer.

"Well, how could you expect to hear it? You were talking a blue
streak." And while the conductor's rebuke was levelled at Toomey, his
sombre eyes were on Graham.

"Doing that to keep awake," was the blunt reply. "Haven't been to bed
for thirty hours."

"That's nothing. In my day a-soldiering we didn't get to bed once a
week. That's when we was after Morgan. You regulars couldn't stand
that, I s'pose."

"In my day we didn't get to bed once a month," answered Toomey, with
equal truth. "That was when we was after Sittin' Bull. The volunteers
that started on _that_ chase petered out at Powder River."

The conductor sniffed. It had been give and take 'twixt him and Toomey
ever since the discovery that each had served in the cavalry. Beaten
thus far in the battle of chaff, the conductor tried another as he
studied Geordie with unfriendly eyes.

"Got a kid fireman here--'nother of y'r officers' dog-robbers?" he
demanded.

Toomey whirled on him in an instant, in spite of Geordie's
quick-gripping hand. "You're boss on this train, Cullin," said he,
savagely, "and you know I can't jaw back as you deserve, but if Bob
Anthony happens to be where he can hear of _that_ remark, you'll get
your time or _I'm_ a liar."

For a moment Cullin stood and glared, wrath and humiliation
commingling. Graham it was who quickly stepped forward and interposed.

"Yes, I'm playing kid fireman, Mr. Cullin," said he, quietly, "and I
was told by the division superintendent if any trouble arose to give
this to the conductor," whereat he held forth a card on the back of
which dimly appeared some written words. Over these Cullin glanced,
unappeased, until he came to the last line and signature. Then a
curious change swept slowly over his face. He looked Graham carefully,
doubtfully from head to foot, slowly thrust the card in a
waistcoat-pocket, and was turning silently away when Geordie hailed
him, a ready smile on his young face.

"I'll trouble you for the card," said he. "I may meet