“Well, I happened to be squinting up this way, and I saw him just as he heaved an end clear of the track. Next thing, you sent him one way and the tie the other. He’s an all-right boy.”
“Guess he is,” laughed Terry’s father. “He’ll get promoted off that old yellow mule, first thing we know.”
“Wish General Dodge would let me go out on a survey,” Terry blurted. “Like George Stanton.”
“I’ll speak to the general about it,” said Fireman Bill, with a wink at his cab partner.
But Engineer Richards did not notice. He was peering behind, out of his window.
“Hi! Here comes the other engine,” he uttered. “Yes, and the headquarters car for a trailer! The old man (that was Major-General Dodge, of course) is inside it, I’ll bet a hat!”
They all looked. Far down the track an engine, twitching a single car, was approaching. By her trail of dense wood smoke and the way she bounced on the little curves and bumps, she was making good time, too.
“Chief boss is on the job, sure,” quoth Bill.
“Usually is,” added Terry’s father. “Always has been. Nothing happens from one end of line to t’other, but he’s there.”
The fighting track-layers had seen, and began to cheer afresh. Away galloped a portion of the enemy, to pester the reinforcements. But the engine came right on, until it halted at the end of the construction-train. Out from the headquarters car issued man after man—springing to the ground, guns in their hands, until they numbered some twenty.