d for the decision.

The man made a move, as if he would snatch the book, but the big hand at
his throat twisted the flannel shirt, and choked him. Patsy, holding the
book in the glare of his white light, read the record of a man who had
been much away from home. He had, according to the book, ridden with
many conductors, whose names were familiar to Patsy, and had, upon
divers occasions, noticed that sometimes some people rode without paying
fare. In another place Patsy learned that trainmen and other employees
drank beer, or other intoxicating beverages. A case in point was a
couple of brakemen on local who, after unloading a half-dozen reapers
and a threshing machine at Mendota, had gone into a saloon with the
shipper and killed their thirst.

While Patsy was gleaning this interesting information the man writhed
and twisted, fought and fumed, but it was in vain, for the hand of the
Philosopher was upon his throat.

"Let me go," gasped the man, "an' we'll call it square, an' I won't
report you."

"Oh! how good of you."

"Let me go, I say, you big brute."

"I wanted to let you go a while ago, and you wouldn't have it."

The man pulled back like a horse that won't stand hitched and the button
flew from his cheap flannel shirt.

"I'm a goat," said the Philosopher, stroking the man's chest with his
big right hand, "if he hasn't got on silk underwear."

"Come now, you fellahs," said the man changing his tune, "let me go and
you'll always have a friend at Court."

"Be quiet," said the Philosopher, "I'm going to let you go, but tell me,
why did you want to do little Patsy, that everybody likes?"

"Because Mr. Paul was so cock sure I couldn't. He bet me a case of
champagne that I couldn't ride on the Omaha Limited without paying
fare."

"And now you lose the champagne."

"It looks that way."

"Poor tramp!"

Patsy had walked to the rear of the train, shouted "All aboard," and the
cars were now slipping past the two men.

"Have you still a mind to smash me?"

"I may be a wolf but this is not my night to howl."

"Every dog has his day, eh?"

"Curse you."

"Good night," said the Philosopher, reaching for a passing car.

"Go to--" said the tramp, and the train faded away out over the
switches.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND

The old master-mechanic, who had insisted that Dan Moran was innocent,
from the first, had gone away; but the new man was willing to give him
an engine after the confession of B