noon he hurried home and back, and brought with him a bright little bouquet of flowers.
No. 6, standing facing the turntable at two o'clock that afternoon, was about as handsome a piece of metal as ever crossed the rails.
Old Griscom came into the roundhouse a few minutes later, his running traps slung over his arm, reported, and was surrounded by the dog house crowd.
This was his first public appearance since the fire at the yards. He still looked singed and shaken from his rough experience, but as he saw Ralph he extended his hand, and gave his young favorite a twist that almost made Ralph wince.
"On deck, eh?" he called cheerily. "Well, I call first choice when you get ready to fire coal."
"That's a long ways ahead, Mr. Griscom!" laughed Ralph.
"Forgan don't say so. Hi! what you giving me? A brand-new runner?"
The veteran engineer gave a start of prodigious animation and real pleased surprise as his glance fell on No. 6.
The headlight shone like a great dazzling brilliant, the brass work looked like gold. In the engineer's window stood the little bouquet, and the cab was as neat and clean as a housewife's kitchen.
