ks. Larry had seen him a great many times, for he was always
loitering about in the boiler and engine rooms when his father was
away.

This was contrary to rules, yet Larry, being so much younger, disliked
to order the young man out. But as he saw him standing in the doorway,
then it occurred to him that, if his father was to be absent several
days, it might be better to put a stop to intrusion at once.

"Yes, I'm on duty," Larry answered, resuming his work.

Steve Croly coolly ascended the two or three steps to the floor of the
engine-room, and, picking up a piece of waste, began to rub the polished
cylinder-head which was nearest.

Larry saw that the rag which Croly was using was making streaks on the
polished surface.

"See what you're doing, Steve!" he cried, pointing at the oily smutch.

"Why don't you have some clean waste round here, then?" Croly retorted.
"When I used to run an engine, I had something to clean it with, instead
of using waste after it was soaked full of oil."

"You're not running this engine," said Larry, quietly.

His heart was heating fast; so he was silent a moment before he spoke
again, as he did not wish to speak in an angry tone.

"I think I could manage it about as well as any boy of your age," said
Croly. "It's mighty foolish to trust such an engine as this to a boy. I
heard some of the men talking about it with the super the last time your
old man was off, and I fancy he don't like it very well."

"Perhaps you heard them say something about giving you the job," Larry
responded, with a faint smile.

"It would look more sensible if they did," replied Croly, who had too
much self-conceit to see the point of a joke that was aimed at him.

"Still," Larry answered, with more dignity, "since I _am_ allowed to run
the engine, I shall have to ask you to obey the rules against coming in
here, after this."

"You mean that I can't come in to see the engine?"

"Not without leave. My father wouldn't let you, and you know it.
Hereafter I wish you to keep out when I'm in charge."

Steve Croly's cheeks flushed with anger.

At that moment the hoarse roar of the whistle shook the air, telling
everybody in the busy town that it was time to go to work.

It was not yet time to start the engine, but Croly sprang to the
valve-gear to let on the steam.

CHAPTER II.

The One-Eyed Fireman.

Larry divined the young man's purpose, and he needed no better evidence
that Steve Croly knew very