It was that of the resolute woman Ralph had noticed a little time past so audaciously crossing the rails and defying instructions. Her face was red and heated, her eyes flashing. Her hair was in disorder, and the poke bonnet was all awry.
"Be careful--don't fall, madam," said Ralph quickly, with inborn chivalry and politeness, springing to the trap.
He put out a hand to help her. She disdained his assistance with an impatient sniff, and cleared the ladder like an expert.
"Don't trouble yourself about me, young man," she observed crisply. "I'm able to take care of myself."
"I see you are, madam."
"I've run an ore dummy in my time, when my husband was head yardman at an iron works, and I know how to climb. See here," she demanded imperatively, fixing a keen look on the young railroader, "are you boss here?"
"Why, you might say so," answered Ralph. "That is, I am in charge here."
The woman put down her umbrella to adjust her bonnet. Ralph observed that the umbrella was in tatters and the ribs all broken and twisted. He comprehended that it was with this weapon that she had just assaulted Mort Bemis.
"If you're the boss," pursued the woman, "I'm Mrs. Davis--Mort Bemis' landlady, and I want to know what I've got to do to get twenty-six dollars thet he owes me for board and lodging for the last six weeks."
"I see," nodded Ralph--"slow pay, that fellow."