His wife had died some five years before this time, leaving him a little daughter, Sidney, to bring up as best he could.

Dyke himself was a heavy built, well-looking fellow, nearly twice the weight of Presley, with great shoulders and massive, hairy arms, and a tremendous, rumbling voice.
"Hello, old man," answered Presley, coming up to the engine.

"What are you doing about here at this time of day?
I thought you were on the night service this month." "We've changed about a bit," answered the other.

"Come up here and sit down, and get out of the sun.

They've held us here to wait orders," he explained, as Presley, after leaning his bicycle against the tender, climbed to the fireman's seat of worn green leather.