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The locomotive took water; the conductor and brakemen stood chatting in groups with the depot hands. They all seemed to me, of course, while they talked, to be considering Slim, or Hank or me. Then Hank came toward me, stopped and lit a cigarette, stood close by absently staring, as though he were merely some one whose idle diversion was to watch the trains come in; watch the trains go out. Away along the platform, Slim leant against the station-house wall, hands in pockets, near to one of the groups. I saw him give a faint nod to Hank, and wondered what it meant. It meant that he had overheard there was some shunting to be done; and it then began, with all the accompanying bumping and clatter of cars, arm-signaling and easy hanging-on to side ladders and neat dropping off on the part of the train-men. At last all was in order again, cars sidetracked, cars picked up, and the caboose coupled once more at the tail of the long string.

Slim walked back near us, looking on at all this as a child watching men work, and the engine puff, and the "wheels go wound."