.007
A switch opened in the shadows ahead; he turned up it like a rabbit as it snapped behind him, and the long line of twelve-foot-high lumber jolted on into the arms of a full-sized road-loco, who acknowledged receipt with a dry howl.
"My man 's reckoned the smartest in the yard at that trick," he said, returning. "Gives me cold shivers when another fool tries it, though. That 's where my short wheel-base comes in. Like as not you 'd have your tender scraped off if you tried it."
.007 had no ambitions that way, and said so.
"No? Of course this ain't your regular business, but say, don't you think it 's interestin'? Have you seen the yard-master? Well, he 's the greatest man on earth, an' don't you forget it. When are we through? Why, kid, it 's always like this, day an' night—Sundays an' week-days. See that thirty-car freight slidin' in four, no, five tracks off? She 's all mixed freight, sent here to be sorted out into straight trains. That 's why we 're cuttin' out the cars one by one." He gave a vigorous push to a west-bound car as he spoke, and started back with a little snort of surprise, for the car was an old friend—an M. T. K. box-car.
"Jack my drivers, but it 's Homeless Kate! Why, Kate, ain't there no gettin' you back to your friends? There 's forty chasers out for you from your road, if there's one. Who 's holdin' you now?"
"Wish I knew," whimpered Homeless Kate. "I belong in Topeka, but I 've bin to Cedar Rapids; I 've bin to Winnipeg; I 've bin to Newport News; I 've bin all down the old Atlanta and West Point; an' I 've bin
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