nta to get to the owners, they said. By
gad, they seem to have got _at_ one of 'em!"

A moan from the sufferer was the only answer. Graham shook his head.
"How soon can you make it?" he asked. "The sooner this man's in expert
hands the better 'twill be."

"Twelve minutes," said Cullin, with a snap of his silver watch-lid.
"_You_ seem no slouch of a handler yourself. Where'd you learn?"

"I lived with a doctor awhile," was the quiet answer. "He had to patch
men up occasionally." And Geordie could barely suppress the grin that
twitched the corners of his mouth. How strangely already his adventure
was faring! "I suppose after hammering him senseless they set him
adrift on that hand-car, hoping it would finish him and hide their
crime," he hazarded.

"Looks like it," was Cullin's short answer as once more he climbed to
his station.

Ten minutes later they were slowly trundling in among a maze of tracks
and sidings, with long trains of gondolas, coal-cars, and dingy-brown
freight-boxes on both sides. Cullin was shouting to invisible
switchmen, and presently the train came bumping to a stand. Another
minute and two or three early birds among the yardmen were climbing
aboard and curiously, excitedly, peering over Geordie's head. He never
looked up. Calmly he continued his sponging. Then Cullin's voice was
heard again. A stretcher was thrust in at the rear door. Three or four
men, roughly dressed, but with sorrow and sympathy in their careworn
faces, bent over the prostrate body. They seemed to look to Graham
for instructions.

[Illustration: "BIG BEN WAS BUSY WITH HIS OIL-CAN"]

"You know where to take him?" he asked. "All right, then, I'll leave
him with you." And before the station-master or other official could
come, Graham had seen his patient transferred to the stretcher, borne
forth into the sunshine and away to the passenger-room. Then, slipping
from the left rear steps, with the train between him and the building,
Geordie sauntered, softly whistling, up to the front again, and in five
minutes was helping Toomey at the cab.

It was not yet seven. Big Ben was busy with his oil-can. Three cars had
been cut out from the train and run to a platform close at hand. It was
high time they were off again, but the conductor was held in the
office, whither he had gone for orders, as well as to report concerning
their unsought passenger. Toomey was still angered against Cullin,
between whom and himself there was ever