"And what then?" said Regan. "Mabbe 'twould be the best thing--h'm?"

"Ah, Regan," she said, and her voice caught a little, "sure, 'twould be
the end of Martin, don't you see? 'Tis me that knows him, and 'twill
not last long, the spell, only till the worst of it is over--Martin is
too fine for that, Regan. If I can keep him by me, Regan, d'ye mind?
If he goes away where there's nobody to give him a thought
he'll--he'll--ah, Regan, faith, Regan, 'tis a lot you've thought of
Martin Bradley the same as me."

Regan examined a crack in the planking of the station platform
minutely, while Mrs. MacQuigan held tenaciously to his coat sleeve.

"I dunno," said Regan heavily. "I dunno. Mabbe I'll----"

"Ah, Regan!" she cried happily. "I knew 'twas----"

"Not in a cab!" interposed Regan hastily. "Not if he was the president
of the road. But I'll see, Mrs. MacQuigan, I'll see."

And Regan saw--Thornley, the trainmaster. And after Thornley, he saw
Reddy MacQuigan in the roundhouse.

"Reddy," said he, with a growl that wasn't real, "there's a vacancy in
the engine crews--h'm?"

"Martin's?" said Reddy quickly.

"Yes," said Regan. "Do you want it?"

"No," said Reddy MacQuigan shortly.

"Good boy," said the fat little master mechanic. "Then I'll give it to
you just the same. Martin's through in here; but he'll get a chance
braking for Thornley. You'll run spare to begin with, and"--as Reddy
stared a little numbly--"don't break your neck thanking me. Thank
yourself for turning into a man. Your mother's a fine woman, Reddy. I
guess you're beginning to find that out too--h'm?"

So Reddy MacQuigan went to firing where Martin Bradley had fired
before, and his pay went up; and Bradley--no, don't get that
idea--whatever else he may have done, Martin Bradley didn't make a
beast of himself. Bradley took the job they offered him, neither
gratefully nor ungratefully, took it with that spirit of utter
indifference for anything and everything that seemed to have laid hold
of him and got him in its grip--and off duty he spent most of his time
in the emporiums along Main Street. He drank some, but never enough to
snow him under; it was excitement that he seemed to crave,
forgetfulness in anything that would absorb him for the moment. It was
not drink so much; it was the faro tables and the roulette and the stud
poker that, crooked from the drop of the hat, claimed him and cleaned
him out night after night--all excep