nius from risin'. Yes,
siree, it sartinly does."

"Oh, your mind is too narrow to grasp all the phases of this great
question," asserted the young socialist, with a sweep of his hand. "I
wish you'd prove to me that young men still have a chance to rise in
these days. Show me an example."

"Me bhoy, ye moight take a look at Barney Mulloy," suggested the smiling
Irishman. "It's something loike tin thousand clane dollars he's made in
th' last year. Thot he's done in Mexico."

"And when yeou git through lookin' at him," suggested Gallup, "yeou
might cast an eye round in my direction. Me and Barney have been
partners, and, by jinks! I've cleaned up ten thousand, too."

For a moment Carker seemed a bit staggered, but he quickly recovered.

"What's ten thousand in these days? What's that but a drop in the bucket
when your big magnates accumulate millions upon millions?"

"Well, me bhoy," laughed Barney, with a comical twist of his mug, "tin
thousand will do for a nist egg. Wid thot for a nist egg, we ought to
hatch out enough to kape us from becomin' objects of charity in our ould
age."

"A man is foolish to waste his time in argument with such chaps as you,"
said Greg, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Are you on this train?"

When they replied that they were, he explained that he was there to take
the same train. Within the station he secured his battered old suit
case, which he had left there.

"Have yeou a seat?" asked Gallup.

"Why, I expect to get a seat on the regular passenger coach," answered
Carker.

"You kin git a seat in our car, I guess," said Ephraim. "Not more'n half
the seats was taken."

At the steps of the parlor car Greg halted.

"Are you riding in this car?" he asked.

"Shure," nodded Barney.

"Then I'm sorry," said the young socialist. "I can't ride with you."

In a breath both Mulloy and Gallup demanded to know why.

"Parlor coaches are made for aristocrats," explained Greg. "I'm one of
the masses. I'm democratic. I ride with common people in the common
coaches."

"Begorra, ye'll roide in this car av we have to kidnap yez!" shouted
Mulloy. "Av you're too close-fisted to buy a sate yersilf, Oi'll pay for
it!"

This touched Carker's pride.

"You hurt me by such words, Barney," he protested. "Close-fisted! My
boy, do you know I've given away nearly all my ready money in the last
six months to the needy and suffering? I've seen big, fat-stomached,
overfed men lolling in their parlor-c