, and it was a minute before the
hour. The ringing of his bell and the hiss of the steam were in his
ears. He was just about to open the throttle when a voice on the other
side called to him, and Fairfax climbed up into the cab.

"Take me in, Sanders, old man; let me hang on here, will you? I've got
to get to New York as fast as you can take me."

Sanders nodded, the station signal had been given. He started out, and
Antony made himself as small as possible in the only available place
between the fireman, who was one of his special pals, and the engineer.
Sanders' face was towards his valves and brakes. He pulled out into the
driving sleet, scanning the tracks under the searchlight.

"What's up, Tony?" the fireman at his side asked him as they rolled out
into the night to the ringing of the bell. Fairfax handed him his
despatch and the fireman read it, and Fairfax answered him--

"A little cousin. One of my little cousins. What time are we due in New
York?"

CHAPTER VII

It was past midnight when Antony rushed out of the Forty-second Street
station into a blizzard of sleet and snow. He stood a second looking up
and down Madison Avenue, searching vainly for a car. There were no cabs
at the station, there was nothing in sight but the blinding storm, and
he began on foot to battle his way with the elements. It had been
snowing in New York for twelve hours. The same fierce challenge met him
that he had received the year before, and he pushed his way through the
dim streets where the storm veils wrapped the gas lamps like shrouds. He
had been on duty since six that morning, except for a few hours in the
afternoon. Every now and then he had to stop for breath and to shake the
weight of snow off his collar. He was white as wool. The houses on
either side were dark with a stray light here and there, but he knew
that farther on he should find one house lit with the light that burns
for watchers. He glowed like a gladiator, panted like a runner, and he
reached the door and leaned for breath and waited for an answer to his
ring. Like a gladiator! How he had mouthed Spartacus for them! He could
see the dancing eyes, and little Gardiner touched the muscles of his
arm.

"Feel mine, Cousin Antony."

Heart of steel! Well, he would need it now.

The door was opened, he never knew by whom, and a silence met him that
was profound after the voices of the storm. He stamped his feet and
shook off the drift from without, th