near went crazy, and all of a sudden he
disappeared, and we never heard of him from that day to this. But this
man Scaylor, mother stuck to it, knew something about where father was;
only he always denied it."

Trembling like a leaf, Dad raised up on his elbow. "What's your mother's
name, son? What's your name?"

Georgie looked confused. "I'll tell you, Dad; there's nothing to be
ashamed of. I was foolish enough, I told you once, to go out on a strike
with the engineers down there. I was only a kid, and we were all
black-listed. So I used my middle name, McNeal; my full name is George
McNeal Sinclair."

The old fireman made a painful effort to sit up, to speak, but he
choked. His face contracted, and Georgie rose frightened. With a
herculean effort the old man raised himself up and grasped Georgie's
hands.

"Son," he gasped to the astonished boy, "don't you know me?"

"Of course I know you, Dad. What's the matter with you? Lie down."

"Boy, I'm your own father. My name is David Hamilton Sinclair. I had the
trouble--Georgie." He choked up like a child, and Georgie McNeal went
white and scared; then he grasped the gray-haired man in his arms.

When I dropped in an hour later they were talking hysterically. Dad was
explaining how he had been sending money to Scaylor every month, and
Georgie was contending that neither he nor his mother had ever seen a
cent of it. But one great fact overshadowed all the villany that night:
father and son were united and happy, and a message had already gone
back to the old home from Georgie to his mother, telling her the good
news.

"And that indictment was wiped out long ago against father," said
Georgie to me; "but that rascal Scaylor kept writing him for money to
fight it with and to pay for my schooling--and this was the kind of
schooling I was getting all the time. Wouldn't that kill you?"

I couldn't sleep till I had hunted up Neighbor and told him about it;
and next morning we wired transportation back for Mrs. Sinclair to come
out on.

Less than a week afterwards a gentle little old woman stepped off the
Flyer at Zanesville, and into the arms of Georgie Sinclair. A smart rig
was in waiting, to which her son hurried her, and they were driven
rapidly to the hospital. When they entered the old fireman's room
together the nurse softly closed the door behind them.

But when they sent for Neighbor and me, I suppose we were the two
biggest fools in the hospital, trying to lo