acquaintance had dropped and moved along the platform to where No. 999 had run. The locomotive was backed to the coaches and the relief engineer stepped to the platform.
"I say," he projected in an undertone to Ralph, "what's up with Fogg?"
"Is there anything?" questioned Ralph evasively.
"Dizzy in the headlight and wobbly in the drivers, that's all," came the response, with a wink.
Ralph's heart sank as he entered the cab. Its atmosphere was freighted with the fumes of liquor, and a single glance at the fireman convinced him that Fogg was very far over the line of sobriety. Ralph hardly knew how to take Fogg. The latter nodded briefly and turned away, pretending to occupy himself looking from the cab window. Ralph could not resist the impulse to try and break down the wall of reserve between them. He stepped over to the fireman's side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"See here, Fogg," he said in a friendly tone, "I've got to say something or do something to square accounts for your help in routing that crowd this morning."
"Don't you speak of it!" shot out the fireman fiercely. "It's over and done, isn't it? Let it drop."
