rred. The porter halted
the chair and the man asked, anxiously, if it were possible to secure a
berth.

"Sorry, sir," said the Pullman conductor, "but we're full up. You should
have engaged one earlier for this train. It's always crowded now."

"I didn't know until half an hour ago that I could come," said the man
in the wheel chair with such evident disappointment that Jimmy's
sympathy was enlisted. "Isn't there some place you can put me?
It's--it's like a day out of my life if I miss this train to San
Augustine!"

That was more than Jimmy could endure.

"Give this man my berth," said Jimmy to the conductor. "No. 12 in this
car. I can stick it through the night in the smoker. I've done it heaps
of times!"

And with that he brushed the porter aside, bent forward, lifted the
wreck from the chair and with his sturdy strength carried him up the
steps and to the relinquished section.

"There," he said cheerfully, as the porter came bearing the cushions
with which to make the invalid comfortable. "Now you'll be right as a
top."

The train took on motion and Jimmy was starting to carry his suitcase
forward when the Pullman conductor, proving that kindliness commands
kindliness, came hurrying forward and said, "Here! Let the porter find a
seat for you. It's pretty crowded out there now. Or, if the gentleman
has no objections, you might sit here with him until it's time to make
the berths down. The day coaches and smokers usually get thinned out a
little by ten o'clock at night."

And thus it was that Jimmy made a new friend.

"You see," explained the man he had befriended, "this race meeting down
there means a lot to a chap smashed up as I am. It's about the only
thrill I ever get since--since--I had to live in a chair. My name is
Carver. Dan Carver. What's yours?"

"Jim Gollop," said Jimmy, puzzling his excellent memory to recall why it
was that the name Dan Carver suggested something, and then, after an
interval, blurting, "Carver? Are you the man who used to be a famous
race driver two or three years ago? The man who wrecked himself in the
Vanderbilt Cup races rather than take a chance on throwing his machine
into the crowd at a turn?"

"The same--what's left of him," Carver admitted.

"Then," said Jimmy, "I wish I could have given you a whole Pullman
instead of just one berth! By gosh! You deserve it. The firm you drove
for ought to have seen to that."

"Firms forget, when a man is no longer of use," said