"Why 'd you quit drivin'?" inquired Ivory.

"My strength wa'n't ekal to it," Mr. Wiley responded sadly. "I was all skin,
bones, an' nerve. The Comp'ny would n't part with me altogether, so they give
me a place in the office down on the wharves."

"That wa'n't so bad," said Jed Towle; "why did n't you hang on to it, so's to
keep in sight o' the Kennebec?"

"I found I could n't be confined under cover. My liver give all out, my
appetite failed me, an' I wa'n't wuth a day's wages. I'd learned engineerin'
when I was a boy, an' I thought I'd try runnin' on the road a spell, but it
did n't suit my constitution. My kidneys ain't turrible strong, an' the
doctors said I'd have Bright's disease if I did n't git some kind o' work
where there wa'n't no vibrations."

"Hard to find, Mr. Wiley; hard to find!" said Jed Towle.

"You're right," responded the old man feelingly. "I've tried all kinds o'
labor. Some of 'em don't suit my liver, some disagrees with my stomach, and
the rest of 'em has vibrations; so here I set, high an' dry on the banks of
life, you might say, like a stranded log."

As this well-known simile fell upon the ear, there was a general stir in the
group, for Turrible Wiley, when rhetorical, sometimes grew tearful, and this
was a mood not to be encouraged.

"All right, boss," called Ike Billings, winking to the boys; "we'll be there
in a jiffy!" for the luncheon hour had flown, and the work of the afternoon
was waiting for them. "You make a chalk-mark where you left off, Mr. Wiley,