“What’s the idea of flagging us down?” demanded the conductor. “I’m going to report you if you haven’t a mighty good reason.”
The agent’s retort was sharp.
“Oh, quit your howling. I waved a fuse at you because I had orders from the super to stop this train and deliver a message to one of your passengers.”
“What’s that?” bellowed the conductor. “You had the nerve to stop the Southern just to deliver a telegram?”
The agent shrugged. “You heard me. Now I’ve got to find this passenger and deliver the message.”
“Give it to me. I’ll deliver it.” The conductor reached for the telegram, but the agent backed away.
“Oh, no you don’t. I’m going to deliver this in person and get the signature of the man I deliver it to.”
“Hurry up there!” It was the engineer, shouting at them above the noise of the storm and the air pumps on the locomotive.
“Who’s the telegram for?” asked the conductor.
“Bob Houston in lower five, car 43,” replied the agent. “Let’s get going.”