shall scour her jacket, polish her bell, repaint her, and she shall pull the Denver Express."
"If I don't b'leve it's the crazy Dane," said the engineer. "Wher'd you git im?"
"I did n't git im at all," said the fireman. "Wher'd you git im?"
"Is that what they call me over there—back there where we used to live?" asked Hansen, almost pathetically.
The engineer made no reply; the fireman shook the grates, and looked out over the plain, where the scant grass, taking courage from the recent rain, made a feeble effort to look green and cheerful.
"Open her up," shouted Hansen. "Don't be afraid of her. We shall push right on to the end of the run—until we find a round house—and some tools, and then we will rebuild her. How handsome she will look when she comes out. We will paint her black this time—all black—all but her bell; and that shall shine like burnished gold. Black will become us now, for we have passed through great trials since our separation. How they have abused you, my noble steed," continued
