hes clear. The way the wheels were cramped a
single step ahead would throw the hind wheels into the train; a step
backward would shove the front wheels into it. It was appalling.

Foley, clinging with one hand to a headlight bracket, dropped down on
the steam-chest and swung far out. As the cow-catcher shot past, Foley's
long arm dipped into the buggy like the sweep of a connecting-rod, and
caught the boy by the breeches. The impetus of our speed threw the child
high in the air, but Foley's grip was on the little overalls, and as the
youngster bounded back he caught it close. I saw the horse give a leap.
It sent the hind wheels into the corner of the baggage-car. There was a
crash like the report of a hundred rifles, and the buggy flew in the
air. The big horse was thrown fifty feet; but Foley, with a great light
in his eyes and the baby boy in his arm, crawled laughing into the cab.

Thinking he would take the engine again, I tried to take the baby. Take
it? Well, I think not!

"Hi! there, buster!" shouted the little engineer, wildly; "that's a
corking pair of breeches on you, son. I caught the kid right by the seat
of the pants," he called over to me, laughing hysterically. "Heavens!
little man, I wouldn't 've struck you for all the gold in Alaska. I've
got a chunk of a boy in Reading as much like him as a twin brother. What
were you doing all alone in that buggy? Whose kid do you suppose it is?
What's your name, son?"

At his question I looked at the child again--and I started. I had
certainly seen him before; and, had I not, his father's features were
too well stamped on the childish face for me to be mistaken.

"Foley," I cried, all amaze, "that's Cameron's boy--little Andy!"

He tossed the baby the higher; he looked the happier; he shouted the
louder.

"The deuce it is! Well, son, I'm mighty glad of it." And I certainly was
glad.

In fact, mighty glad, as Foley expressed it, when we pulled up at the
depot, and I saw Andy Cameron with a wicked look pushing to the front
through the threatening crowd. With an ugly growl he made for Foley.

"I've got business with you--you--"

"I've got a little with you, son," retorted Foley, stepping leisurely
down from the cab. "I struck a buggy back here at the first cut, and I
hear it was yours." Cameron's eyes began to bulge. "I guess the outfit's
damaged some--all but the boy. Here, kid," he added, turning for me to
hand him the child, "here's your dad."

The insta