"This is the first I've heard about any franchise," Sam Perkins
replied suspiciously. "Seems to me you been mighty secret about this
job. How do I know this ain't a forgery?"

"Call up the mayor and ask him," Bryce suggested.

"I'll do that," quoth Mr. Perkins ponderously. "And in the meantime,
don't do any more digging or rail-cutting." He hurried away to his
automobile, leaving a lieutenant in charge of the squad.

"Also in the meantime, young man," Colonel Pennington announced, "you
will pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I
observe you have finished unloading those rails."

"Help yourself, Colonel," Bryce replied with an assumption of
heartiness he was far from feeling.

"Thank you so much, Cardigan." With the greatest good nature in life,
Pennington climbed into the cab, reached for the bell-cord, and rang
the bell vigorously. Then he permitted himself a triumphant toot of
the whistle, after which he threw off the air and gently opened the
throttle. He was not a locomotive-engineer but he had ridden in the
cab of his own locomotive and felt quite confident of his ability in
a pinch.

With a creak and a bump the train started, and the Colonel ran it
slowly up until the locomotive stood on the tracks exactly where Buck
Ogilvy had been cutting in his crossing; whereupon the Colonel locked
the brakes, opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler down. And when