"You're not running this engine," said Larry, quietly.

His heart was heating fast; so he was silent a moment before he spoke
again, as he did not wish to speak in an angry tone.

"I think I could manage it about as well as any boy of your age," said
Croly. "It's mighty foolish to trust such an engine as this to a boy. I
heard some of the men talking about it with the super the last time your
old man was off, and I fancy he don't like it very well."

"Perhaps you heard them say something about giving you the job," Larry
responded, with a faint smile.

"It would look more sensible if they did," replied Croly, who had too
much self-conceit to see the point of a joke that was aimed at him.

"Still," Larry answered, with more dignity, "since I _am_ allowed to run
the engine, I shall have to ask you to obey the rules against coming in
here, after this."

"You mean that I can't come in to see the engine?"

"Not without leave. My father wouldn't let you, and you know it.
Hereafter I wish you to keep out when I'm in charge."

Steve Croly's cheeks flushed with anger.

At that moment the hoarse roar of the whistle shook the air, telling
everybody in the busy town that it was time to go to work.