The red light disappeared through the snow; then two sharp whistles testified that the signal had been seen; and a moment later, a great mogul of a freight-engine loomed through the darkness and came grinding to a stop not thirty feet away.
Her engineer swung himself to the ground and came running forward.
“SNATCHED UP THE FUSEE, AND FAIRLY HURLED HIMSELF DOWN THE TRACK”
“What’s all this?” he demanded; and then he saw the headlight of the other engine, almost obscured by the snow which encrusted it, and turned livid under his coat of tan. “What train’s that?”
“That’s Number Two,” answered the conductor, who had returned with the smoking fusee still in his hand.
“Number Two!” echoed the engineer, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. “Nonsense! I saw Number Two pull into the yards ten minutes ago!”
“No you didn’t,” retorted the conductor, grimly, “for there’s Number Two back there.”