Marriott gave a little shudder; in a flash he had a vision of Koerner there in the wide switch-yard with its bewildering red and green lights, the snow filling the air, the gloom of the winter twilight, his foot fast in the frog, bending far over to save his body, awaiting the switch-engine as it came stealing swiftly down on him.
"Did the engine whistle or ring its bell?"
"No," said the old man.
"And the frog--that was unblocked?"
Koerner leaned toward Marriott with a cunning smile.
"Dot's vere I got 'em, aind't it? Dot frog he's not blocked dere dot time; der law say dey block dose frog all der time, huh?"
"Yes, the frog must be blocked. But how did your foot get caught in the frog?"
"Vell, I shlipped, dot's it. I gan't see dot frog. You ask Charlie Drake; he's dere--he seen it."
"What does he do?" asked Marriott as he scribbled the name on an old envelope.
"He's a svitchman in der yard; he tol' you all aboudt it; he seen it--he knows. He say to me, 'Reinhold, you get damage all right; dot frog haind't blocked dot time.'"