WE ENTERTAIN A JAIL-BIRD
eighty-two miles further away than when ye started. That locomotive is a special and got return orders.’”
The Engineer threw back his head and roared.
“Yes, that’s it, Herbert. I remember just how you looked when we ran against each other in Sydney.”
“Not barefooted, were you, old fellow?” remarked Louis in a sympathetic tone. “That was tough.”
“Barefooted? Not much!” exclaimed The Engineer. “He was quite a nob. That’s why I made up to him; he was so much better dressed than I. And do you know, Herbert, I never heard a word of you from that time on until I struck one of your statues in the Royal Academy the other day. I never thought you’d turn out sculptor with medals and things. Thought you wanted more room to swing around in. This is something new, isn’t it?”
Herbert took his freshly lighted cigar from his mouth long enough to say, “About as new as your building dams. You were trying to get into the real-estate business when I bid you good-by in Sydney. Did it work?”
“No, I got into jail instead.”
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