248 The Light That Failed feelings, but you’re a little down on your luck, aren't you? I saw you sitting with your head in your hands, and that’s why I spoke.” “Thanks. I am about as thoroughly and completely broke as a man need be.” “Suppose — I mean I’m a public school man myself. Couldn’t I perhaps — take it as a loan y’know and —” “You’re much too good, but on my honor I’ve as much money as I want... . I tell you what you could do for me, though, and put me under an everlasting obligation. Let me come into the bogie truck of the train. There is a fore-truck, isn’t there?” “Yes. How d’you know?” “I’ve been in an armored train before. Only let me see — hear some of the fun ] mean, and I'll be grateful. I go at my own risk as a non-combatant.” The young man thought for a minute. “All right,” he said. “We’re supposed to be an empty train, and there’s no one to blow me up at the other end.” George and a horde of yelling amateur assistants had loaded up the mules, and the narrow-gauge armored train, plated with three-eighths inch boiler-plate till it looked like one long coffin, stood ready to start. Two bogie trucks running before the locomotive were completely covered in with plating, except that the leading one was pierced in front for the muzzle of a machine-gun, and the second at either side for lateral fire. The trucks together made one long iron-vaulted chamber in which a score of artillerymen were rioting. “Whitechapel — last train! Ah, I see yer kissin’ in the first class there!” somebody shouted, just as Dick was clamoring into the forward truck. “Lordy! ’ere’s a real live passenger for the Kew, Tanai, Acton, and Ealin’ train. Echo, sir. Speshul edition! Star, sir.” — “Shall I get you a foot-warmer?” said another. “Thanks. I'll pay my footing,” said Dick, and rela