“You’d accept the invitation,” Goldrick cut in. “What then?”
“Then, after a little while—so it wouldn’t look too much like a put-up job, you know—if our track-layers should sort of suddenly get busy and make out as if they were going to change our line and make the crossing a few hundred yards farther down the O. C. track....”
“By George!” exclaimed Jones, Goldrick’s alternate on the rock-bossing; “that’s an idea, Mr. Ackerman!—to keep that blocking train dodging between two possible crossings.”
The chief nodded.
“Yes; one of the Donovan brand of ideas,” he said half musingly. “The principal question is, Larry, will your part of it work? Can you do what you have in mind without getting a broken head for yourself or Dick?”
“Yes, sir; I think so: I’m almost sure it can be done.”
The sober-eyed man who had to carry all the responsibility considered for a moment. Then he said:
“All right; go to it. I’m not asking you what you mean to do; I don’t care particularly to know—officially. But hold up a minute; I shouldn’t think it would need two of you on that engine. You’d better stay here with us, Dick.”
Dick looked up quickly.
“Is that an order, Mr. Ackerman?”