The morning mist still clings to the valley when Peter slips out of the back door. He carries an empty burlap sack under his arm and wears a look of intense concentration. For three days, his mind works on a grand engineering project behind the chicken coop: a miniature railway system made of smooth pebbles and wooden planks. However, a proper railway requires a proper steam engine, and Peter decides that his toy wooden locomotive needs real fuel to look authentic.
He marches purposefully down the hillside path toward the railway station. He avoids the main platform where Perks the porter is busy sweeping, and instead skirts around the back toward the high wooden fencing of the coal yard. Miners from the valley deposit great mounds of glistening black coal here for the steam engines.
Peter spots a loose plank in the fence. He squeezes his slender frame through the gap and drops onto the dusty ground inside. Giant hills of black fuel tower above him like dark mountains.
"Just a few small lumps," Peter whispers to himself, his heart beating a little faster. "The railway company has thousands of tons. They will never miss a handful for a new stationmaster."
He crouches low and begins picking up small, shiny pieces, dropping them one by one into his sack. Each piece lands with a dull thud. His fingers quickly turn completely black with soot, but he ignores the mess, completely absorbed in his task.
"And what do you think you are doing there, young man?"
The booming voice makes Peter drop his sack in terror. He spins around to see the Stationmaster standing in the gateway, his arms crossed over his brass-buttoned waistcoat. His face looks very stern, and his heavy boots crunch loudly on the gravel as he walks over.
Peter’s cheeks burn with instant shame. "I... I am collecting coal for my miniature engine, sir."
"That coal belongs to the railway company, Peter," the Stationmaster says quietly but firmly, looking down at the half-filled sack. "Taking something that does not belong to you without asking has a name. Do you know what it is?"
The word catches in Peter's throat. "Stealing?" he whispers, looking at his boots.
"It is," the Stationmaster replies. "Even if the pile is large, and even if you only take a small amount. It is not yours to take."
Just then, the fence gate creaks open again, and Bobbie steps into the yard. She is looking for her brother for breakfast, but stops short when she sees the scene. She looks at Peter’s black hands, the sack, and the Stationmaster's grave expression. She understands the situation instantly.
"Oh, Peter," Bobbie says, her voice filled with gentle disappointment. She walks over and stands right beside him, taking his hand despite the black soot. "Sir, he did not think. He wanted fuel for his toy train. We will put it all back right now."
Peter looks at his sister, then up at the Stationmaster. The desire to defend himself disappears, replaced by a deep lump in his throat. "I am sorry, sir. I see the big piles and I think the company is rich. I do not think about the right and wrong of it. I will return every piece."
The Stationmaster watches the boy’s sincere face for a long moment. The sternness in his eyes softens into understanding. "I know you are not a thief at heart, Peter. But a man’s honesty is measured by how he acts when he thinks no one is watching."
Peter nods quickly, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He tips the burlap sack upside down, letting the black lumps tumble back onto the great mound.
"Now," the Stationmaster says, his voice returning to its normal cheerful pitch. "If you ever need coal dust or scrap wood for your hobbies in the future, you come to my office and ask me properly. If you do an hour of honest sweeping for Perks on Saturdays, you can earn your own fuel. What do you say to that?"
Peter’s face lights up. "I would like that very much, sir! Thank you."
As the siblings walk back up the hill for breakfast, Bobbie uses her clean handkerchief to wipe the worst of the black dust from Peter's fingers. Peter looks back at the station, feeling a new sense of pride growing inside him. He realizes that an honest path might require more work, but it keeps a boy's head held high in the light of day.
