"Side-swiped?" inquired John Smith, who was not so well up on
Americanisms as the others.
"Why a car projected over the end of a switch," explained Mr. Post. "Our train came along full tilt, and the engine hit it a glancin' blow, or a side-swipe, as the railroad men call it."
"Much damage?" asked an elderly gentleman.
"Well, they can't use that freight car without sendin' it to the hospital," replied Mr. Post, with a smile. "And our engine suffered minor bruises and contusions, as the papers say when a man is hurt. I reckon we'll be delayed a bit and it's somethin' I didn't count on."
Mr. Post looked at his watch, and then consulted some papers he took from a big wallet.
"I've got to be in Chicago at five o'clock to-morrow night," he said to the boys, "and at the rate we've been delayed I'm going to be late. It will mean a big loss to me, too, for I counted on putting a deal through with a friend of mine, Lemuel Liggins. He's to meet me in the stock yards. I don't suppose you boys are in any great rush, are you?"
"Well," remarked Jack, "it doesn't make any great difference when we arrive, but we're supposed to be in Denville at a certain time. A little delay more or less will not hurt us, but I have something to do in Denver, and I may need more time than I'm likely to get now."
"Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do," said Mr. Post, "I'm going to transfer to another line."
"Then we'll do the same," said Jack.
The Chicago train on the other line was on time, and the four passengers boarded it and were soon being pulled toward the great city of the Lakes with more comfort than they had experienced on the other train.