the tracks, he was surprised to hear his name called. "Hello,
there, Mr. Presley. What's the good word?"

Presley looked up quickly, and saw Dyke, the engineer, leaning on
his folded arms from the cab window of the freight engine. But at the
prospect of this further delay, Presley was less troubled. Dyke and he
were well acquainted and the best of friends. The picturesqueness of the
engineer's life was always attractive to Presley, and more than once he
had ridden on Dyke's engine between Guadalajara and Bonneville. Once,
even, he had made the entire run between the latter town and San
Francisco in the cab.

Dyke's home was in Guadalajara. He lived in one of the remodelled 'dobe
cottages, where his mother kept house for him. His wife had died some
five years before this time, leaving him a little daughter, Sidney, to
bring up as best he could. Dyke himself was a heavy built, well-looking
fellow, nearly twice the weight of Presley, with great shoulders and
massive, hairy arms, and a tremendous, rumbling voice.

"Hello, old man," answered Presley, coming up to the engine. "What are
you doing about here at this time of day? I thought you were on the
night service this month."

"We've changed about a bit," answered the other. "Come up here and sit
down, and get out of the sun. They've held us here to wait orders," he
explained, as Presley, after leaning his bicycle against the tender,
climbed to the fireman's seat of worn green leather. "They are changing
the run of one of the crack passenger engines down below, and are
sending her up to Fresno. There was a smash of some kind on the
Bakersfield division, and she's to hell and gone behind her time. I
suppose when she comes, she'll come a-humming. It will be stand clear
and an open track all the way to Fresno. They have held me here to let
her go by."

He took his pipe, an old T. D. clay, but coloured to a beautiful shiny
black, from the pocket of his jumper and filled and lit it.

"Well, I don't suppose you object to being held here," observed Presley.
"Gives you a chance to visit your mother and the little girl."

"And precisely they choose this day to go up to Sacramento," answered
Dyke. "Just my luck. Went up to visit my brother's people. By the way,
my brother may come down here--locate here, I mean--and go into the
hop-raising business. He's got an option on five hundred acres just back
of the town here. He says there is going to be money in hops. I don't
know;