Thanks to the man with the red lantern, there were half a dozen car-lengths to spare between the two trains when the double stop was made. But Maxwell was swearing hotly when, with Sprague for a close second, he dropped from the step of the panting 1016 and ran to meet the conductor of the passenger-train in the middle of the scant safety distance. Like the superintendent, the conductor was also boiling over with profanity, but he swallowed the cursing portion of his wrath hastily when he recognized the “big boss.”
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr. Maxwell?” he blurted out. “By hen! I was getting ready to cuss somebody out, red-hot! What’s the trouble?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any,” snapped Maxwell shortly. “Is this the Limited?”
“Sure it is,” replied the conductor. “Hadn’t it ought to be?”
“And you haven’t been in the ditch?”
The big red-faced train captain grinned.
Thanks to the man with the red lantern, there were half a
dozen car-lengths to spare between the two trains.
“Not that anybody’s heard of. Is that what’s the matter? Was you coming to pick us up?”
Maxwell’s answer was a barked-out string of orders.