irs, "you'd better be
looking for another job."

Tolliver sighed, turning to the table. The boy played there, fumbling
with the yellow forms. Tolliver glanced at the top one. He called out
quickly to the departing man.

"What's this special, Joe?"

The other's feet stumped on the stairs again.

"Forgot," he said as his head came through the trap. "Some big-wigs
coming through on a special train along about midnight. Division
headquarters got nothing definite yet, but figure we'll have to get her
past thirty-three somewheres on this stretch. So keep awake."

Tolliver with an increasing anxiety continued to examine the yellow
slips.

"And thirty-three's late, and still losing."

Joe nodded.

"Makes it sort of uncertain."

"Seems to me," Tolliver said, "you might have mentioned it."

"Maybe," Joe sneered, "you'd like me to stay and do your job."

He went down the stairs and slammed the lower door.

Tolliver studied the slips, his ears alert for the rattling of the
telegraph sounder. After a time he replaced the file on the table and
looked up. The boy, quite contented now in the warm, interesting room,
stretched his fingers towards the sending key, with the air of a culprit
dazzled into attempting an incredible crime.

"Hands off, Sonny!" Tolliver said kindly. "You must run back to mother
now."

He opened a drawer beneath the table and drew out a polished
six-shooter--railroad property, designed for the defense of the tower
against tramps or bandits. The boy reached his hand eagerly for it. His
father shook his head.

"Not to play with, Sonny. That's for business. If you promise not to
touch it 'till you get home and hand it to mama, to-morrow I'll give you
a nickel."

The child nodded. Tolliver placed the revolver in the side pocket of the
little overcoat, and, the boy following him, went down stairs.

"You run home fast as you can," Tolliver directed. "Don't you be afraid.
I'll stand right here in the door 'till you get there. Nothing shall
hurt you."

The child glanced back at the festive lights with an anguished
hesitation. Tolliver had to thrust him away from the tower.

"A nickel in the morning----" he bribed.

The child commenced to run. Long after he had disappeared the troubled
man heard the sound of tiny feet scuffling with panic along the road to
home.

When the sound had died away Tolliver slammed the door and climbed the
stairs. He studied the yellow slips again, striving to fix in