He hastened to the other side where his own boat was anchored, and began an excited examination.  He was like a school-boy with a fine toy.

At a word, I moved the lever as requested, and the two vessels began steaming out toward one another.  Their weight and speed were such that the light wind blowing affected them not in the least, and their prows struck with an audible crack.  This threw them side by side, steaming head on together.  At the same time it operated to set in motion their guns, which fired broadsides in such rapid succession as to give a suggestion of rapid revolver practice.  Quite a smoke rose, and when it rolled away one of the vessels was already nearly under water and the other was keeling with the inflow of water from the port side.  S——­ lost no time, but throwing off his coat, jumped in and swam to the rescue.

Throughout this entire incident his manner was that of an enthusiastic boy who had something exceedingly novel.  He did not laugh.  In all our acquaintance I never once heard him give a sound, hearty laugh.  Instead he cackled.  His delight apparently could only express itself in that way.  In the main it showed itself in an excess of sharp movements, short verbal expressions, gleams of the eye.

I saw from this the man’s delight in the science of engineering, and humored him in it.  He was thereafter at the greatest pains to show all that he had under way in the mechanical line, and schemes he had for enjoying himself in this work in the future.  It seemed rather a recreation for him than anything else.  Like him, I could not help delighting in the perfect toys which he created, but the intricate details and slow process of manufacture were brain-racking.  For not only would he draw the engine in all its parts, but he would buy the raw material and cast and drill and polish each separate part.

Upon my second visit I was deeply impressed by the sight of a fine passenger engine, a duplicate of the great 999 of the New York Central, of those days.  It stood on brass rails laid along an old library shelf that had probably belonged to the previous occupant of the studio.  This engine was a splendid object to look upon, strong, heavy, silent-running, with the fineness and grace of a perfect sewing-machine.  It was duly trimmed with brass and nickel, after the manner of the great “flyers,” and seemed so sturdy and powerful that one could not restrain the desire to see it run.

“How do you like that?” S——­ exclaimed when he saw me looking at it.

“It’s splendid,” I said.

“See how she runs,” he exclaimed, moving it up and down.  “No noise about that.”

He fairly caressed the mechanism with his hand, and went off into a most careful analysis of its qualities.

“I could build that engine,” he exclaimed at last, enthusiastically, “if I were down in the Baldwin Company’s place.  I could make her break the record.”

“I haven’t the slightest doubt in the world,” I answered.