Ralph grabbed him by the shoulder and shot into his ear: “Muffle down, Haney! That’s the super himself there, and it is his wife and girl in the car.”
“Great Glory and Jerusalem!” gasped the fireman. “Thanks, Fairbanks. He’ll be as sore as a boil over this. And it’s a wonder that we didn’t smash the thing to splinters, for our brakes don’t work any too well. The old mill ought to be in the shops right now.”
The fireman slipped back to warn the engineer. Ralph went on to the crossing. Mrs. Hopkins and Cherry had now got out of the runabout. The girl was actually keeping the woman from falling, the latter was so much overcome. But Cherry flashed Ralph an illuminating look. Her eyes were like stars.
The supervisor knew exactly what to do in the emergency. Already he had ordered the gate raised and had beckoned to some idlers to come and lift the car. He did not take hold himself, but he ordered them what to do. In fact, Ralph helped lift the runabout over the tracks and out onto Hammerby Street.
“That will do, men. Thanks,” said Mr. Hopkins coldly. He turned to his daughter. “How did it happen? Your wheels are deflated.”
“I don’t know. I did not understand what had happened until we were on the crossing, Papa,” Cherry replied.
“Somebody must have done it when the car was standing before the store,” said Mrs. Hopkins.
“Thank you, Ralph Fairbanks!” whispered Cherry, suddenly seizing the young fellow’s hand.
Hopkins wheeled and stared coldly at Ralph. “Just what has Mr. Fairbanks done to be thanked for, Cherry?” the supervisor asked.
“He stopped the train, Papa,” declared the girl firmly.