The man in the express office had never heard the proverb concerning “a place for everything;” or, if he had, knowing it was not among the Ten Commandments, felt under no obligation to heed it. He remarked that “somebody had said something about some skates being somewhere,” and went fumbling among boxes and bundles, exclaiming alternately, “Hi! here they be,” and “Ho! no they ain’t.”
NOT GOING TO LOSE “CHAIN LIGHTENING” AT ANY RATE!
At last, just as he laid his hand on a queer-looking package, and was next to sure that here were the skates, the engine bell rang, there was a slight scurry outside, and the train began to move.
Phil was out of the depot in a flash.
“Stop!” he cried; but the locomotive paid no heed.
Slowly past the platform glided the cars, pulling “Chain Lightning” behind.
Almost before he knew what he was doing, Phil had thrown himself on the sled and grasped its rope. To his horror the slip-knot suddenly tightened, and “Chain Lightning” was firmly fastened. Every moment the train quickened its speed.
I should not dare to tell the rest of this story, were it not true. I am not “making it up.” It really happened.
The sled hung on the car. Phil Sullivan clung to the sled. Do you suppose he would lose “Chain Lightning?” Not he.