“We’re the people, all right,” bragged George. And he burst into song:
“Oh, it’s work all day
On the old U. Pay.,
And keep a-goin’ to Frisco Bay!”
Terry interrupted:
“What’s the matter. Gee whiz! Look behind! We’re busted!”
The engine also had interrupted with hoarse shriek after shriek; Paddy was standing upright, waving his arms; the brakeman was running back—and a quarter of a mile behind, up the grade, was the tail of the trains: four cars, two loaded with ties, one with rails and one with fastenings. The train, as Terry had expressed, had “busted.”
“That’s a joke on the Dutchmen,” George cheered. “What we going to do? Run on and leave ’em?”
“Maybe. Yes. No. I dunno! Jiminy, look at ’em come, though! Hope they don’t ram us.”
“Your father’s whistling for brakes. Hear him?”