But, at the words, the foreman’s face suddenly changed.
“Good heavens!” he cried. “I fergot! Th’ track has t’ be patrolled. Somebody has t’ go,” and he raised himself in his chair, but fell back with a groan. “No use,” he muttered, between his clenched teeth. “To-night, too, when th’ pay-car’ll most probably come through! Allan, you’ll have t’ run over t’ th’ train-master, an’ git him t’ send somebody else.”
“Mr. Schofield went to Cincinnati this morning, I think,” answered Allan. “I saw him getting on the train as I came in from the road.”
“O’ course!” cried Jack, fiercely. “He’s gone down t’ come back with th’ pay-car. Well, hunt up th’ chief despatcher, then; somebody’s got t’ patrol that track.”
Without a word, Allan donned the foreman’s rubber coat and great hat. Then he picked up the heavy club and the red signal-lantern, which was standing, still lighted, on the table, where one of the men had placed it.
“What y’ goin’ t’ do with that?” demanded Jack, eying the boy uneasily. “Y’ don’t need that to go to th’ depot with.”
“No,” said Allan, smiling, “but you see, I’m not going to the depot. I’m going to take your trick.”
“No, you ain’t!” cried the other, fiercely.
“Yes, I am. There’s nobody else to be got at this time of night; besides, you said yourself there’s no danger.”
Jack looked at him a moment doubtfully.