Maxwell’s mustaches took a sharper uptilt. “How did you know there was any trouble, Calvin?” he demanded quickly.
The big man leaned across the counter rail and laughed softly.
“There is nothing very occult about that,” he rejoined. “You have it written all over your faces, both of you; and it is also written in the face of that young man over in the corner, who would like to hear what we’re saying and can’t quite compass it.”
Maxwell explained briefly.
“Two of our trains are trying to get together on a single track up at Tunnel Number Three in the Hophras. There is a break-down in the tunnel, and half a hundred men are sprinting over the mountain to try to head off the other train.”
“What? half a hundred? There ought to be at least one or two good sprinters among that many—somebody who can make your touch-down for you. How does it come that you happened to have as big a crowd as that on the side-lines—at this time of night?”
The superintendent went into details far enough to account for the crowd of volunteer rescuers.
“We are electrifying Tunnel Number Three, and the contractors’ camp is at this end of the tunnel. It was the contractors’ operator who sent in the alarm, and his chief engineer turned out the entire camp for us when I told him what to do.”
“And you are waiting to get word?”
“Yes; waiting and hoping. By great good luck the Fast Mail is behind time. If it hasn’t made up——”