The agent strode to the door, and there was a momentary silence after he called, “Pete!”
Then, a shout came out of the sliding snow: “I can’t come.”
It broke off with significant suddenness, and the agent turned to the man who had first spoken. “You are going to be sorry for this, Mr. Grant,” he said and then tried to slip away, but one of the others pulled the door to and stood with his back to it while Grant, smiling, said, “I’m quite willing to take my chances. Have the stock-cars passed Perry’s siding?”
“I don’t know,” said the agent.
“Then, hadn’t you better call them up and see? We are giving you the first chance of doing it out of courtesy, but one of us is a good operator.”
“I was on the Baltimore and Ohio road,” said one man. “You needn’t play any tricks with me.”
The agent sat down at the telegraph instrument, and looked up when it rapped out an answer to his message.
| “Stock train left Birch Hollow. No sign of her yet.” |
“That’s all right,” said the man who had served the B. and O. “Tell them to side-track her for half an hour, anyway, after your loco comes through. It’s necessary. Don’t worry ’bout any questions, but tell them to keep us a clear road, now.”
The agent, who saw that the other man was prepared to do the work himself, complied, and the latter once more nodded when the instrument clicked out the answer.