Just as Ralph reached the end of the tender, he saw emerging from the shaded path down the embankment a girl of twelve. He recognized her as the daughter of jolly Sam Cooper, the fireman.
She was breathless and pale, and she waved her hand up to the impatient engineer with an agitated:
"Was you calling pa, Mr. Griscom?"
"Was I calling him!" growled the gruff old bear--"did he think I was piping for the birds?"
"Oh, Mr. Griscom, he can't come, he----"
"He's got to come! It's life and death! Couldn't he tell it, when he saw me on this crazy old wreck, and shoving up the gauge to bursting point. Don't wait a second--he's got to come!"
"Oh, Mr. Griscom, he's in bed, crippled. Ran into a scythe in the garden, and his ankle is cut terrible. Mother's worried to death, and he won't be able to take the regular run for days and days."
Old Griscom stormed like a pirate. He glared down the tracks towards the roundhouse. Then he shouted ferociously:
"Tell Evans to come, then--not a minute to lose!"
"Mr. Evans has gone for the doctor, for pa," answered the girl.