"There's only one thing, Paddy. Go through them," answered Glover, slamming shut the furnace door.
McGraw laid his bar over, and, like one putting his house in order, looked at his gauges and tried his valves.
"What is it?" whispered Gertrude, at Glover's side.
He turned. "We've struck a bunch of sheep."
"Sheep?"
"In a storm they drift to keep from freezing out in the open. These sheep have bunched in a little cut out of the wind," he explained, as the fireman sprinkled the roaring furnace. "You had better get up on your seat, Miss Brock."
"But what are you going to do?"
"Run through them."
"Run through them? Do you mean to kill them?"
"We shall have to kill a few; there isn't much danger."