ust be
about the size of it. He hadn't meant to come. There wasn't any use
in it, none at all, nothing he could do; better, in fact, if he stayed
away--only he had left the boarding house early--and he was down there
now, standing on the turntable--and it was old Dan's last run.

"I guess," mumbled Regan, "I'll go back over to the station. Carleton
'll be along in a few minutes. I guess I will, h'm?"--only Regan
didn't. He started on again slowly over the turntable, and entered the
roundhouse.

There wasn't anybody in sight around the pit on which the 304 stood,
nobody puttering over the links and motion-gear, poking here and there
solicitously with a long-spouted oil can, as he had half, more than
half, expected to find old Dan doing; but he heard some one moving
about in the cab, and caught the flare of a torch. Regan walked down
the length of the engine, and peered into the cab. It was Billy Dawes.

"Where's Dan, Billy? Ain't he about?" inquired Regan.

The fireman came out into the gangway.

"Yes," he answered; "he's down there back of the tender by the fitters'
benches. He's looking for some washers he said he wanted for a loose
stud nut. I'll get him for you."

"No; never mind," said Regan. "I'll find him."

It was pretty dark at the rear of the roundhouse in the narrow space
between the engine tenders on the various pits and the row of
workbenches that flanked the wall, and for a moment, as Regan reached
the end of the 304's tender, he could not see any one--and then he
stopped short, as he made out old Dan's form down on the floor by the
end bench as though he were groping for something underneath it.

For a minute, two perhaps, Regan stood there motionless, watching old
Dan MacCaffery. Then he drew back, tiptoed softly away, went out
through the engine doors, and, as he crossed the tracks to the station
platform, brushed his hand hurriedly across his eyes.

Regan didn't play much of a game of pedro that night--his heart wasn't
in it. Carleton had barely dealt the first hand when Regan heard the
304 backing down and coupling on the local, and he got up from his
chair and walked to the window, and stood there watching until the
local pulled out.

Carleton didn't say anything--just dealt the cards over again, and
began once more as Regan resumed his seat.

An hour passed. Regan, fidgety and nervous, played in a desultory
fashion; Carleton, disturbed, patiently correcting the master
mech