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knowing, Mr. Sandage always compromised on a certain amount of stamping and hawking, and in this he was abetted by Abner Teeftallow, who also had a feeling for the proprieties.

The doors and windows of Mr. Jones's office were open, and when the eyes of the two companions rose above the top steps, they could see the railroad builder bending over a large box, groping in it with his arms.

"Lost somethin’, Mr. Jones?” called Sandage.

At the first sound the fat man lifted his head quickly and stared at his visitors over the rim of the box. He had a vast head topped with a black mane and set with small puffy black eyes. At this moment his face was duskily red from stooping. Against this complexion a purple birthmark showed just in front of Railroad Jones's left ear and ran halfway down his heavy jowl. The birthmark had a narrow yellowish margin, and this cleared for a stubble of black beard which swung under the sag of his chin and up the other side of his face.

Abner had seen Jones a few times in his life, and this birthmark always made a strong and somehow a favourable impression on the boy. It seemed the sort of marking a wealthy man would possess.

Mr. Jones stared at his two visitors, said, “Damn the thing, I can’t find it,” then broke off to bob down into the box again and continue pawing among his papers. From this uncomfortable position he wheezed.

“I put a contrack—in this box—on yaller blue-lined paper—a page tore out of a ole cash book.” He swung his arms amid the jumble of papers with the desperation of a fat man already overheated.

“When ju put it in there, Mr. Jones?” asked Jim.

“Bout ten year’ ago.”

The poorhouse keeper was thunderstruck. “Ten year’ ago! Think o’ that, Abner!”

“Yeh,” panted Mr. Jones, “and now the damn comp’ny’s suin' me on it!”