“Why, you see--There goes the starting signal. See you again.”
The brakeman dropped back to duty, and the depot and the three men who had caused a brief ripple in the monotony of a routine run were lost in the distance. For a few minutes the fireman had his hands full feeding the fire, and Ralph, eyes, ears and all his senses on the alert, got in perfect touch with throttle, air gauge and exhaust valve.
Ralph glanced at the clock and took an easy position on his cushioned seat. Everything was in order for a smooth run to twenty miles away. The Overland Express was on time, as she usually was, and everything was in trim for a safe delivery at terminus.
Fogg hustled about. He was a restless, ambitious being, always finding lots to do about cab and tender. His brows were knitted, however, and every once in a while he indulged in a fit of undertoned grumbling. Ralph watched him furtively with a slight smile. He knew that his companion railroader was stirred up about something. The young engineer had come to understand the quirks and turns and moods of his eccentric helper, just as fully as those of his beloved engine.
“I say,” broke out Fogg finally, slamming down into his seat. “It’s about time for something to happen, Fairbanks.”
“Think so?” queried Ralph lightly.
“Been pretty smooth sailing lately, you see.”
“That’s the way it ought to be in a well-regulated family, isn’t it, Mr. Fogg?”
“Humph--maybe. All the same, I’m an old bird and know the signs.”
“What signs are you talking about, Mr. Fogg?”