hands."

"So Mr. Minturn knows you?" asked the railroad king, sharply, vexed at
this second interruption.

"He does not like me, and he would never give me a situation. I--"

"Well, that is no fault of mine. But I haven't any more time to lose
with you."

Seeing it was useless to say more, the boy made his departure, trying to
feel hopeful, but fearing the worst.

CHAPTER II.

Scarcely had the youth left the railroad company's headquarters, when a
tall, spare man, with faultless dress and cleanly-shaven face, entered
the apartment, going straight to the superintendent's desk, smiling and
nodding to the clerks as he passed them.

He was Donald Minturn, the assistant superintendent, who had a smile for
every one, but as treacherous as the charm of the serpent.

"Hilloa Minturn!" greeted his chief; "you are back sooner than I
expected. By-the-way, you must have met a boy as you came in. He was
after a situation, and I was careless enough not to ask him his name.
Call him back if it is not too late. I think we might do worse than--"

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Minturn, "has that fellow had the audacity to come
here for another job? He has been discharged from his section this very
week."

"Then you know him, Minturn? Come to think of it, he told me so. How
stupid I am to-day! What is his name?"

"That he couldn't have told you himself, if you had asked him, general.
He is a sort of waif of the switch-yard. Jack Ingleside--you knew
Jack--he was engineer on the old Greyhound, afterwards took to drink and
went to the bad--well, as I started to say, Jack found this boy in the
caboose one morning as he was starting from Wood's Hollow. He wasn't
more than three years old, and how he got there is yet a mystery. Jack
took a fancy to him and gave him a home while he lived. I think the
young scamp still lives with the widow at Runaway Tavern."

"He seems like a more than commonly smart boy."

"Oh, he can appear well enough when he is a mind to. But Mr. Gammon had
to turn him off of his section for downright disobedience of orders.
Why, only yesterday he and a man named Baxter jumped on to the hand-car
in the very teeth of the northern-bound mail, and came very near
wrecking the train, to say nothing of ending their own worthless lives."

"Oh, well, if you know the boy, of course you are more competent to
judge of him than I. But I must confess he impressed me very favorably.
What news from Draco?"