It occurs to him one day that he ought to have a copy of this report if he is ever going to be set right before the world.  He suspects crooked work by this time.  He suspects mebbe the company is keeping the thing quiet on purpose, not wanting the public to know that such wonderful accidents could happen to its faithful employees.  So he talks to Charlie Holzman, the conductor of Number 18, and wants to know would it be possible to sneak this report of Ben’s out of the files over at Tekoa.  Charlie says that wouldn’t be possible, but he’s going to lay over at Tekoa the very next night and he’ll be glad to make a copy of the report.

Ed says he hates to keep Charlie setting up half the night writing, or mebbe all night, because Ben has told him the report was a good one.  Charlie says he’ll get help if necessary.  Ed says get all the help necessary and he’ll pay the bill, and not to leave out even the longer descriptive parts, because if it’s as well written as Ben says it is he may have it printed in a little volume for sending round to his friends.

The next day Ed is sunning himself on the station platform when Number 18 steams in.  He’s told a lot of people that Charlie is bringing this report and he’s aiming to read it aloud, just to show ’em what a man can pass through and live to tell of it.  Charlie swings down and hands him one folded sheet of yellow paper.  Ed says, what’s the matter—­couldn’t he get to copy the report?  Charlie says the report is all there on that sheet, every word of it.  One sheet!  And Ed had been expecting at least forty pages of able narrative, even without hysteria.  Even before he looks at it Ed says there is crooked work somewhere.

Then he read Ben’s report.  It didn’t fill even the one sheet—­not more than half of it.  It merely says:  “Brakeman Steptoe had trouble holding two cars of concentrates he was letting down from the Tiger-Poorman mine at Burke.  Cars ran to Wallace and left track.  Steptoe thrown some distance.  Right leg and arm broken; left shoulder dislocated; head cut some.  Not serious.”

It was unbelievable; so Ed did the simple thing and didn’t believe it.  Not for one minute!  He says to Charlie Holzman:  “Charlie, I know you’re honest; and, furthermore, you are a brother Moose.  You’ve brought me what’s on file in that office; so now I know there’s a conspiracy to hush my accident up.  I’ve thought so a long time—­the way people acted round here.  Now I know it.  Don’t say a word; but I’m going to take it up with Ben at once.  Good old Ben!  Won’t he be in a frenzy when he finds this paltry insult has been sneaked into the files in place of his report on me!” So into the station he goes and wires Ben up the line to come there at once on account of something serious.

Ben gets in that night.  He thought Ed must be dying and had got a lay-off.  He goes over to the hospital and is a mite disappointed to find Ed ain’t even worse, but is almost well and using only one crutch.