“But now comes the strange part of my story, and which recalled my adventure so vividly.  There is a man on this train who is the exact image of Gerardo!”

“Whew!” exclaimed the other.  “Do you really think it is he?”

“I can’t say.  The likeness is perfect, even to the scar.”

“I have heard of cases where two persons looked so much alike you could not tell them apart.”

“Very true, and this may be one of them.  There is a slight difference here, too, for this man wears side-whiskers.  But his beard is not heavy enough to conceal the scar.”

“Do you remember where he is going?”

“To Woodsville; and he inquired for Jack Ingleside.  Seemed surprised when I told him Jack was dead.  Said he was a relative, and he asked all about the family.  Here we are at the Big Y. This is as far as I go.”

CHAPTER III.

An impatient crowd was waiting at the Big Y station for the northern mail, which was half an hour overdue.

Finally, when the engine thundered into the depot, puffing and panting like an over-driven steed, there was a rush to board the train, as if the time was limited to the shortest possible space.

“It’s going to be a rough night,” muttered the old engineer, as he peered out of the cab window into the gathering gloom of storm and darkness.  “I never felt so uneasy in my life, and I have a presentiment something is going to happen—­as if it wasn’t enough to be half an hour behind time and your engine in the sulks.  But how are you feeling, Gilly?” addressing his fireman.  “Any better?”

“No, Jockey; and I am afraid I won’t be able to go through.  I don’t understand it, for I felt well enough when I started.”

“I tell you everything is wrong to-night.  If Jim were here—­Hilloa! there’s Jack Ingleside’s boy, as true as I live!  We’re in luck.  Hi, Rock! aren’t you lost?”

At the sound of the engineer’s voice, our hero, who was following leisurely the crowd to one of the cars, looked in that direction to see the soot-begrimed countenance of his old friend.

“Lost, Jockey?  Never where you are,” replied the youth.

“Going up?  Jump in here, then.  It won’t be like riding in a parlor-car, but it will suit you just as well, I’m thinking.”

Rock showed his willingness by springing quickly into the cab.

Railroad companies have a rule forbidding persons to ride with the engineer without permission from the president or superintendent, though at the time we write this matter was not as rigidly looked after as now.

Rock, however, who had passed nearly all his young life on the foot-board, would have been deemed an exception to any rule.  At least, so thought Jockey Playfair, the veteran “knight of the lever” on the Pen Yan mail and accommodation.

But Jockey’s usual good-humor had been relegated to the background on that evening, as Rock soon saw.