let us have him?"

"Ask Benny what he wants to do!" smiled the engineer.

"Well, little 'Signal Code' man, what do you want to do?" asked the
superintendent. "Speak, old man."

The boy was looking him directly in the eyes. "Go on the great
Transcontinental, if I get the chance," he replied.

"You'll get the chance all right," said the superintendent. "_I'll_ see
that you get it. Ellis, you may back the train down into town now.
There's lots to see to about reconstructing the trestle." Then under his
breath he added: "That's the sort of boy we want on the railroad. That's
the sort of boy!"

The Shadow Trail

A Christmas Story

Peter Ottertail was a full-blooded Mohawk Indian, who, notwithstanding
his almost eighty years, still had the fine, thin features, the upright
shoulders, and the keen, bright eyes of the ancient, warlike tribe to
which he belonged. He was a great favorite with Mr. Duncan, the earnest
Scotch minister, who had made a personal companion of Peter all through
the years he had been a missionary on the Indian Reserve; and as for the
two Duncan boys, they had literally been brought up in the hollow of the
old Indian's hands. How those boys had ever acquired the familiar names
of "Tom" and "Jerry" no one seemed to remember; they really had been
christened Alexander and Stuart by their own father in his own church.
Then Peter Ottertail had, after the manner of all Indians, given them
nicknames, and they became known throughout the entire copper-colored
congregation as "The Pony" and "The Partridge." Peter had named
Alexander, alias "Tom," "The Pony," because of his sturdy, muscular back
and firm, strong little mouth, that occasionally looked as if it could
take the bit right in its teeth and bolt; and Stuart, alias "Jerry,"
was named "The Partridge," because of his truly marvellous habit of
disappearing when you tried to drum him up to go errands or carry wood.
Fortunately for the boys themselves, they were made of the good stuff
that did not mind nicknames and jests; and when, at the ages of ten and
twelve, they were packed off to school in a distant city, they were
the very first to tell their schoolfellows Peter's pet names, which,
however, never "took root" on the school playground, "Tom" and "Jerry"
being far more to the taste of young Canadian football and lacrosse
players.

During the school terms, old Peter Ottertail would come to the parsonage
every Sunday after church, would dine s