"Jack, will you light up?"
It was Blackburn who spoke to me. But Bucks broke in instantly, speaking to him:
"Callahan called me over his house wire a few minutes ago, Blackburn, and told me to meet him here right away. Is anything wrong?" he asked, with anxiety restrained in his tone.
I struck a match. I was so nervous that I took hold of the hot chimney of the counter lamp and dropped it smash to the floor. No one said a word and that made me worse. I struck a second match, and a third, and with a fourth got the lamp on the despatchers' table lighted as Blackburn answered the superintendent. "Something serious has happened," he replied to Bucks. "I sent lap orders at one o'clock for Number One and the Irving Special."
Bucks stared at him.
"Instead of making a meeting-point at O'Fallon's I sent One an order to run to O'Fallon's and ordered the Special to run to Salt Rocks against One."
"Why, my God!" exclaimed Bucks, "that will bring them together in—the Peace cañon—Blackburn!—Blackburn!—Blackburn!" he cried, tearing off his storm-coat. He walked to the table, seized the order book and steadied himself with one hand on the chair; I never saw him like that. But it looked as if the horror long averted, the trouble in the Peace River cañon, had come. The sleet tore at the old depot like a wolf, and with the sash shivering, Bucks turned like an executioner on his subordinate.
"What have you done to meet it?" He drew his watch, and his words came sharp as doom. "Where's your wreckers? Where's your relief? What have you done? What are you doing? Nothing? Why don't you speak? Will you kill two trainloads of people without an effort to do anything?"
His voice rang absolute terror to me; I looked toward Blackburn perfectly helpless.
"Bucks, there will be no wreck," he answered steadily.