“What! My new wash-boiler?”
“Yes; the copper-bottomed one. It’s a matter of life and death!”
The astonished woman hesitated, then, wonderingly, pointed toward the outer kitchen. Alex ran thither, and quickly reappeared with the fine new boiler on his shoulder.
“And I must have that kettle of boiling water,” he added, on a thought. “I’ll explain later.” And catching it from the stove, he rushed away.
As he ran Alex further thought out his plans, and once more at the station, he placed the kettle on the office stove, emptied the bluestone into it, and poked up the fire.
Then, with a hammer and chisel, he attacked the copper bottom of the boiler.
He was still pounding and cutting when presently there was the sound of hurried footsteps without, the door flew open, and a voice exclaimed: “In Heaven’s name, young man, what are you doing? Why are you not at your wire, trying to stop the other train?”
It was none other than the division superintendent of the road, who had been aboard the Sunset.
Only pausing a moment in his work, Alex replied: “I can’t reach anybody, sir, the wire is so weak. I am making a battery of that water-cooler, to strengthen it. It’s the only hope, sir.”
The superintendent uttered a horrified exclamation, then quickly added: “Here, can’t I help you?”