of him for over two
years."

"Might you not be mistaken--facial resemblance?"

"Not much," observed Dave staunchly. "Think I don't recognize my own
relatives? Why, didn't you notice how he acted?"

"Yes, surprised."

"No, scared," corrected Dave, "and ran away."

"Why?" demanded Ralph.

"Well, from your seeming to know him under another name, I should say
because he is found out. What game has he been playing on you,
Fairbanks?"

"He has done me more good than harm," evaded Ralph. "I've only known
him since yesterday."

"Well, he has run away, that's certain. That bothers me. Fred Porter
was never a sneak or a coward. He was full of jolly mischief and fun,
but a better friend no fellow ever had."

"He struck me that way," said Ralph. "I hope he'll come back. There's
my engine coming, and I'll have to go on duty. Try and find him, Dave,
will you?"

"If I can."

"And if you find him, tell him I must see him before we leave
Bridgeport."

"All right."

Ralph picked up the lunch package that his odd acquaintance had
dropped and moved along the platform to where No. 999 had run. The
locomotive was backed to the coaches and the relief engineer stepped
to the platform.

"I say," he projected in an undertone to Ralph, "what's up with
Fogg?"

"Is there anything?" questioned Ralph evasively.

"Dizzy in the headlight and wobbly in the drivers, that's all," came
the response, with a wink.

Ralph's heart sank as he entered the cab. Its atmosphere was freighted
with the fumes of liquor, and a single glance at the fireman convinced
him that Fogg was very far over the line of sobriety. Ralph hardly
knew how to take Fogg. The latter nodded briefly and turned away,
pretending to occupy himself looking from the cab window. Ralph could
not resist the impulse to try and break down the wall of reserve
between them. He stepped over to the fireman's side and placed a
gentle hand on his shoulder.

"See here, Fogg," he said in a friendly tone, "I've got to say
something or do something to square accounts for your help in routing
that crowd this morning."

"Don't you speak of it!" shot out the fireman fiercely. "It's over and
done, isn't it? Let it drop."

"All right," laughed Ralph genially. "Say, I saw a dispatch in the
Bridgeport paper to-day from Stanley Junction that ought to make you
feel pretty good."

"Did?" snapped Fogg, determinedly antagonistic and stubbornly keeping
his face turned away.

"Yes. It gav