Without disturbing the sleeping Bessie, she dressed quickly and slipped out to see what the early-morning change of base portended. The common room was empty when she entered it, but before she could cross to the door the Reverend Billy came in, stamping the snow from his feet.
“What is it?” she asked eagerly. “Are we off for California?”
“No, it's some more of the war. Winton has outgeneraled us. During the night he pushed his track up to the disputed crossing, 'rushed' the guarded engine, and ditched it.”
Virginia felt that she ought to be decorously sorry for relationship's sake, but the effort ended in a little paean of joy.
“But Uncle Somerville—what will he do?”
“He is with McGrath on the engine, getting himself—and us—to the front in a hurry, as you perceive.”
“Isn't it too late to stop Mr. Winton now?”
“I don't know. From what I could overhear I gathered that the ditched engine is still in the way; that they are trying to roll it over into the creek. Bless me! McGrath is getting terribly reckless!”—this as a spiteful lurch of the car flung them both across the compartment.
“Say Uncle Somerville,” she amended. “Don't charge it to Mr. McGrath. Can't we go out on the platform?”
“It's as much as your life is worth,” he asserted, but he opened the door for her.