Then, when everything had been done that was possible, she set herself to face a dreary watch in the depot while the slow hours crept by.
The station-master also remained on duty. At least, he lay on a bench in the little waiting-room of the depot, and snored with persevering industry, the sound of his slumber reaching to Gertrude’s office, and adding a fresh weirdness to the night.
About midnight Mrs. Nichols walked in at the office door, wheezing and puffing even more than usual. She had been helping Miss Gibson to look after the scalded engine-driver, and from there had gone to console Mrs. Peters, who was frightened half out of her senses at the thought of Sam firing the engine up to Camp’s Gulch and back again. When these neighbourly duties had all been performed, she came on to the depot to stay with Gertrude as long as it was necessary for the girl to remain on duty.
“How different it has all turned out from what we had planned!” sighed Gertrude, who was pale and worn with the excitement of the evening.
“Life is very often like that,” moralized the stout woman. “We get to what we think is a nice easy bit, only to find it is fuller of kinks than any of the rest. I wonder what sort of tribulation that poor Nell is in to-night?”
“It is very strange that she should have wired to us, yet we can get no message through to her,” Gertrude said, in a musing tone.
“Perhaps the wire got cut after she had sent her message,” suggested Mrs. Nichols. Then she burst out vehemently, “Oh dear, oh dear, how I wish I had been on the depot when the message came, then I would have gone up to Camp’s Gulch with the men, and seen for myself what was the matter!”
“But you would have been afraid, surely, to go on such a risky expedition,” said Gertrude.
“I should have been as safe as the men, anyhow, and my life is not of any more value than theirs; besides, we shall none of us die until our time comes. It would have been a comfort to Nell to have a woman there to help her, for poor old Mrs. Trip can’t be much good to anyone, seeing that she is stone deaf,” sighed the stout woman.
“How fond you are of Nell! I believe you love her better than you do me,” said Gertrude, with a short laugh, and a very pronounced stab of jealousy at her heart.