There was some sharp tooting, then the McWilliams Special backed; backed away across the meadow, halted, and screamed hard enough to wake the dead. Georgie was trying to warn the section-men. At that instant the door of the baggage-car opened and a sharp-featured young man peered out.
"What's the row—what's all this screeching about, conductor?" he asked, as Francis passed.
"Bridge burning ahead there."
"Bridge burning!" he cried, looking nervously forward. "Well, that's a deal. What you going to do about it?"
"Run it. Are you McWilliams?"
"McWilliams? I wish I was for just one minute. I'm one of his clerks."
"Where is he?"
"I left him on La Salle Street yesterday afternoon."
"What's your name?"
"Just plain Ferguson."