12," he said, with a careless, unseeing glance at our group.

This was a stroke that had nearly done for one of us--but a moment's resistance and another of sober reflection saved him.

He flashed to me a look of scorn for the clumsy fabrication.
There was still a brakeman needed, it appeared,--a _good_ brakeman.

The Sullivans consulted importantly, wondering if "a good man" could by any chance be found "around here." They named and rejected several possible candidates--other boys that we knew.

And they wondered again.
No--probably every one around here was afraid to leave home, or wouldn't be strong enough.
I held my breath, perceiving at once, the villany on foot.