“There must be something wrong,” declared Alex, stepping to the instrument table. Saunders followed him.
“IM, IM, IC, Qk! Qk!” clicked the sounder.
“IM, IM—”
“I, I, IM,” came the response, and the two operators at Foothills listened closely.
“A wild string of loaded ore cars just passed here,” buzzed the instruments. “Were going forty miles an hour. They’ll be down there in no time. If there’s anything on the main line get it off. I can’t raise X for orders.”
The two listening operators exchanged glances of alarm, and anxiously awaited Imken’s response. For a moment the sounder made a succession of inarticulate dots, then ticked excitedly, “Yes, yes! OK! OK!” and closed.
“What did he mean by that?” asked Saunders beneath his breath. “That there was something on the main track there?”
“Perhaps a switch engine cutting out ore empties. We’ll know in a minute.”
The wire again snapped open, and whirred, “I got it off—the yard engine! Just in time! Here they come now! Like thunder!
“There—they’re by! Are ten of them. All loaded. Going like an avalanche. Lucky thing the yard engine was—”