“Oil on a pile of ties, or anything, sir—providing Orr can get over the bridge,” Alex explained hurriedly as he whirled off the letters of Jack’s call. The official dropped into the chair beside him.
“I, I, TR,” answered Jack.
“OR, have you any oil in the tower?” shot Alex.
“No, but there’s some in the lamp-shed just below.”
“Look here, could you possibly get across the bridge?”
“I might manage it. There is a rail bicycle in the lamp-house. If the rails are hanging together perhaps I could shoot over with that. Why?”
“46 is due in twenty minutes, and apparently we have no way of stopping her except through you.”
“Why, certainly I’ll risk it,” buzzed the sounder. “I suppose the oil is to make a quick blaze, to flag her?” Jack added, catching Alex’s idea.
“That’s it. Make it just this side of the Riverside Park station.”
“OK! Here goes!”