The agent walked across to the door.
"Back again, Larry!" he said impatiently. "What's the matter now?"
"When's that fish box of mine coming along?" the man inquired.
"I don't know," said the agent. "Next freight, most likely, if it's been delivered to us at the other end."
"Won't you wire up the line about it?"
"No," said the agent. "If you'll put up the stamps I'll wire to the fish store you billed it to."
The man looked indignant. "I tell you it's in the railroad's hands. Do you think I've nothing better to do than hang about this depot every time a freight comes through?" He paused a moment with his eyes on the ground, then went on: "Anyway, now I'm on the spot I may as well wait for the next one. She should be along in about an hour. Won't you let me in?"
The telegraph instrument began to click just then and the agent turned toward him sharply.
"There's no room. You can wait at the hotel."
"Perhaps the message is about his box," broke in the other man.