With a laugh Neil left his companions and ran across the street.
"Good-morning," he said.

The little man on the box looked up inquiringly but failed to recognize his tormentor.
"Mornin'," he grunted suspiciously.
"I wanted to tell you," said Neil gravely, "that your diagnosis was correct, after all." "Hey ?" asked the little man querulously.
"Yes, it _was_ a cold-chisel that did it," said Neil.

"You remember you said it was." "Cold-chisel?
Say, what you talkin'-- " Then a light of recognition sprang into his weazened features.

"You're the feller that owes me a quarter!" he cried shrilly, scrambling to his feet.
Neil was off on the instant.

As the three went on toward the station the little man's denunciations followed them: "You come back here an' pay me that quarter! If I knew yer name I'd have ther law on yer! But I know yer face, an' I'll--" "His name's Legion," called Ted Foster over his shoulder.
"Hey?
What ?" shrieked the repair man.
"Legion!" "I don't know what you say, but I'll report that feller ter th' authorities!" Then a long whistle broke in upon the discussion, and the three rushed for the station platform.
From the vantage-point of a baggage-truck they watched the Robinson players and the accompanying contingent descend from the train.