iving him an engine.
"I know the track from here to Zanesville. I helped McNeff fire one
week."

"Then go home, and go to bed; and be over here at six o'clock to-morrow
morning. And sleep sound, for it may be your last chance."

It was plain that the Master Mechanic hated to do it; it was simply
sheer necessity. "He's a wiper," mused Neighbor, as Bartholomew walked
springily away. "I took him in here sweeping two years ago. He ought to
be firing now, but the union held him back; that's why he don't like
them. He knows more about an engine now than half the lodge. They'd
better have let him in," said the Master Mechanic grimly. "He may be the
means of breaking their backs yet. If I give him an engine and he runs
it, I'll never take him off, union or no union, strike or no strike."

"How old is that boy?" I asked.

"Eighteen; and never a kith or a kin that I know of. Bartholomew
Mullen," mused Neighbor, as the slight figure moved across the flat,
"big name--small boy. Well, Bartholomew, you'll know something more by
to-morrow night about running an engine, or a whole lot less: that's as
it happens. If he gets killed, it's your fault, Reed."

He meant that I was calling on him for men when he couldn't supply them.

"I heard once," he went on, "about a fellow named Bartholomew being
mixed up in a massacre. But I take it he must have been an older man
than our Bartholomew--nor his other name wasn't Mullen, neither. I
disremember just what it was; but it wasn't Mullen."

"Well, don't say I want to get the boy killed, Neighbor," I protested.
"I've got plenty to answer for. I'm here to run trains--when there are
any to run; that's murder enough for me. You needn't send Bartholomew
out on my account."

"Give him a slow schedule, and I'll give him orders to jump early;
that's all we can do. If the strikers don't ditch him, he'll get through
somehow."

It stuck in my crop--the idea of putting that boy on a pilot engine to
take all the dangers ahead of that particular train; but I had a good
deal else to think of besides. From the minute the silk got into the
McCloud yards, we posted double guards around. About twelve o'clock that
night we held a council of war, which ended in our running the train
into the out freight-house. The result was that by morning we had a new
train made up. It consisted of fourteen refrigerator cars loaded with
oranges which had come in mysteriously the night before. It was
announced that the s