ivision was sure as long as Neighbor
signed the pay-rolls at the round-house.

Hence there was no surprise when the superintendent offered him an
engine, just after the strike, that Dad refused to take it.

"I'm a fireman, and Neighbor knows it. I ain't no engineer. I'll make
steam for any man you put in the cab with me, but I won't touch a
throttle for no man. I laid it down, and I'll never pinch it again--an'
no offence t' you, Neighbor, neither."

Thus ended negotiations with Dad on that subject; threats and entreaties
were useless. Then, too, in spite of his professed willingness to throw
coal for any man we put on his engine, he was continually rowing about
the green runners we gave him. From the standpoint of a railroad man
they were a tough assortment; for a fellow may be a good painter, or a
handy man with a jack-plane, or an expert machinist, even, and yet a
failure as an engine-runner.

After we got hold of Foley, Neighbor put him on awhile with Dad, and the
grizzled fireman quickly declared that Foley was the only man on the
pay-roll who knew how to move a train.

The little chap proved such a remarkable find that I tried hard to get
some of his Eastern chums to come out and join him. After a good bit of
hustling we did get half a dozen more Reading boys for our new corps of
engine-men, but the East-End officials kept all but one of them on
their own divisions. That one we got because nobody on the East End
wanted him.

"They've crimped the whole bunch, Foley," said I, answering his
inquiries. "There's just one fellow reported here--he came in on 5 this
morning. Neighbor's had a little talk with him; but he doesn't think
much of him. I guess we're out the transportation on that fellow."

"What's his name?" asked Foley. "Is he off the Reading?"

"Claims he is; his name is McNeal--"

"McNeal?" echoed Foley, surprised. "Not Georgie McNeal?"

"I don't know what his first name is; he's nothing but a boy."

"Dark-complexioned fellow?"

"Perhaps you'd call him that; sort of soft-spoken."

"Georgie McNeal, sure's you're born. If you've got him you've got a
bird. He ran opposite me between New York and Philadelphia on the
limited. I want to see him, right off. If it's Georgie, you're all
right."

Foley's talk went a good ways with me any time. When I told Neighbor
about it he pricked up his ears. While we were debating, in rushed
Foley with the young fellow--the kid--as he called him. Neighbor made
a