the new king of the road gain steadily half
a mile, one mile, two miles, overlapping lost time.

A smile of joy crossed the face of the young engineer, a great
aspiration of relief and triumph escaped his lips as No. 999 pulled
into Derby two hours later. They were twenty-one minutes ahead of
time.

"Mr. Fogg," shouted Ralph across to the fireman's seat, "you're a
brick!"

It was the first word that had passed between them since the mishap at
the siding, but many a grateful glance had the young engineer cast at
his helper. It seemed as if the shake-up at Plympton had shaken all
the nonsense out of Lemuel Fogg. Before that it had been evident to
Ralph that the fireman was doing all he could to queer the run. He
had been slow in firing and then had choked the furnace. His movements
had been suspicious and then alarming to Ralph, but since leaving
Plympton he had acted like a different person. Ralph knew from
practical experience what good firing was, and he had to admit that
Fogg had outdone himself in the splendid run of the last one hundred
miles. He was therefore fully in earnest when he enthusiastically
designated his erratic helper as a "brick."

It was hard for Fogg to come out from his grumpiness and cross-grained
malice quickly. Half resentful, half shamed, he cast a furtive, sullen
look at Ralph.

"Humph!" he muttered, "it isn't any brick that did it--it was the
briquettes."

"The what, Mr. Fogg?" inquired Ralph.

"Them," and with contemptuous indifference Fogg pointed to a coarse
sack lying among the coal. "New-fangled fuel. Master mechanic wanted
to make a test."

"Why, yes, I heard about that," said Ralph quickly. "Look like
baseballs. Full of pitch, oil and sulphur, I understand. They say they
urge up the fire."

"They do, they burn like powder. They are great steam makers, and no
question," observed Fogg. "Won't do for a regular thing, though."

"No?" insinuated Ralph attentively, glad to rouse his grouchy helper
from his morose mood.

"Not a bit of it."

"Why not?"

"Used right along, they'd burn out any crown sheet. What's more, wait
till you come to clean up--the whole furnace will be choked with
cinders."

"I see," nodded Ralph, and just then they rounded near Macon for a
fifteen minutes wait.

As Fogg went outside with oil can and waste roll, Mervin Clark came
into the cab.

"Glad to get back where it's home like," he sang out in his chirp,
brisk way. "Say, Engineer Fairbanks,