the track one day when the train was coming in; and the more he thought
about it, the surer he felt that some day he would have to do it. He
was well acquainted by that time with the engines, and the engineers
too, and his trick of standing astride the rail and looking up with
sparkling, defiant eyes at the engine's noble front was only a sort of
preparation for other deeds.

One day he had assisted at the dismounting of the passengers, had seen
the last departing traveller disappear inside the cars, had had his
queue pulled by the news agent, and a narrow escape from being knocked
over by the baggage man's trunk van, when he started off at top speed
to get in front of the engine before the train should start. A young
woman with a baggage check in her hand was standing near an omnibus
waiting for the driver to come. Wing's headlong speed would have
carried him safely past her, but a big man with two suit-cases was
rushing toward him, and as he veered to one side he struck heavily
against the girl. The blow knocked her against the steps of the
omnibus and sent Wing sprawling in the dust.

A slender, trim-looking young man, who had got off the train and was
about to enter the omnibus of another hotel, saw the collision and
sprang to her assistance. Helping her to her feet, he asked anxiously
if she was hurt, and then seized Wing's arm and gave him a little
shaking.

"You young rascal!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you look where you are
going?"

"Oh, don't scold him, please!" the girl pleaded. "He did n't intend to
do it, and I 'm not hurt at all. Wing, how do you do? Did it hurt