man's amusement.

"So you want to get a job around here, do you?" said the man, presently,
with a grin. "Maybe I can give you one. Know anything about
railroadin'?"

"Heaps," answered Jonesy. "Well, I'd ought to, seem' as I've lived next
door to the engine yards all my life, and spent my time dodgin' the cop
on watch there, when I was tryin' to steal rides on freight-cars
and such."

"Is that what you're hangin' around here now for?" asked the man, with a
good-natured twinkle in his eyes.

"Nope! I'm waiting for that MacIntyre kid to come back this way. He went
down the track a bit ago on a hand-car, playing rescue a princess with
one of the girls at the picnic,"

The section boss sprang up with an exclamation of alarm. "How far's he
gone?" he asked. "There's a special due to pass here in a few minutes."

Even while he spoke there sounded far away in the distance, so far that
it was like only a faint echo, the whistle of an approaching locomotive.
The man hobbled down the track a yard or so and stopped. "What do you
suppose they'll do?" he asked. "There are so many bends in this road,
the train may come right on to 'em before the engineer sees 'em. S'pose
they'll jump off, or turn and try to come back?"

Jonesy glanced around wildly a second, and then sprang forward toward
the man.

"Give me the switch-key!" he cried, in a high voice, shrill with
excitement. "You can't run, but I can. Give me the switch-key!"
Perplexed by the sudden turn of affairs and the little fellow's
commanding tone, the man took the key from his pocket. He realised his
own helplessness to do anything, and there was something in Jonesy's
manner that inspired confidence. He felt that the child's quick wit had
grasped the situation and formed some sensible plan of action.

Again the whistle sounded in the distance, and, snatching the key,
Jonesy was off down the track like an arrow. The section boss, leaning
heavily on his cane, limped after him as fast as he could.

Keith and the Little Colonel, having gathered the moss and started back
home, were rolling leisurely along, still talking of magicians and
their ilk.

"What if we should meet a dragon?" cried the Little Colonel. "A dragon
with a scaly green tail, and red eyes and a fiery tongue. What would
you do then?"

"I'd say, 'What! Ho! Thou monster!' and cleave him in twain with my good
broadsword, and when he saw its shining blade smite through the air he'd
just curl up and die."