JACK ROSE TO HIS KNEES, AND BEGAN WORKING HIS WAY
FORWARD FROM TIE TO TIE.
“No; Broad is careful,” declared the chief, referring to the engineer of the coming train. “He won’t keep up that speed when he strikes the worst of the fog. There are eight or ten minutes yet.”
Again came the long, mellow notes of the big engine, whistling a crossing.
“Who’s that?” said Alex suddenly, half turning from the window. The next moment with a cry of “He’s at the station! Orr’s at the Park station!” he darted to the calling instruments, and shot back an answer. The rest rushed after, and crowded about him.
“I’m at the Park station,” whirled the sounder. “I broke in. I lost the oil can on the bridge. There is no oil here. What shall I do?”
As the chief read off the excited words to the superintendent, the official sank limply and hopelessly into a chair.
“But might there not be some there, somewhere? Who would know, Mr. Allen?”
At Alex’s words the chief spun about. “McLaren, call Flanagan on the ’phone!” he cried. “Quick!”
The operator sprang to the telephone, and in intense silence the party waited.