wo pedestrians looked back they saw a drunken
man reel out from among the cars. The driver of the switch-engine saw
the man as the engine struck him, and, reversing, came to a quick stop
and leaped to the ground.

The man lay with his lower limbs beneath the machine, and a blind driver
(those broad wheels that have no flanges) resting on the pit of his
stomach, holding him to the rail. The young engineer, having taken in
the situation, leaped upon his engine, and was about to back off when
Moran signalled him to stand still. "Don't move," said the old engineer,
"he may want to say a word before he dies, and if you move that wheel he
will be dead."

"Why, hello Greene, old hoss; is this you?" asked Moran, lifting the
head of the unfortunate man and pushing the unkept hair back from his
forehead.

Greene opened his eyes slowly, looked at his questioner, glanced all
about and, as Moran lifted his head, gazed at the great wheel that had
almost cut his body into two pieces. He was perfectly sober now, and
asked why they didn't back up and look him over.

"We shall presently," said Moran, "only we were afraid we might hurt
you. You are not in any pain now, are you?"

"No," said the man, "I don't know when I've felt more comfortable; but
for all that I guess I'm clean cut in two, ain't I, Dan?"

"Oh no, not so bad as that."

"Oh yes, I guess there's no use holdin' out on me. Is the foreman here?"

"Yes, here I am, Billy."

"Billy!" said Greene, "now wouldn't that drive you to cigarettes?
Billy!--why don't you call me drunken Bill? I'm used to that."

"Well, what is it, old man?" asked the foreman, bending down.

"You know this man? This is Dan Moran, the dynamiter." And the foreman
of the round-house, recognizing the old engineer for the first time,
held out his hand, partly to show to Moran and others that the strike
was off, and partly to please the dying man.

"That's right," said Greene to the foreman, "it'll be good for you to
touch an honest hand."

By this time a great crowd had gathered about the engine. Some police
officers pushed in and ordered the engineer to "back away."

"An' what's it _to_ ye?" asked Greene with contempt, for he hated the
very buttons of a policeman. "It's no funeral uf yours. Ye won't grudge
me a few moments with me friend, will ye? Move on ye tarrier."

The big policeman glanced about and recognizing the foreman asked why
the devil he didn't "git th' felly out?"

Now a red-h