"We must stop the train," she said. "We must wave something red at it.
Red always means danger."
"Mollie's tie," exclaimed Amy. Mollie was wearing a bright vermilion scarf knotted about the collar of her blouse.
"It isn't big enough," decided Betty. "But we must do something. That man said the train would come along soon. It's an express. A slow train might not go off the track, as the break is only a small one. But the express—"
She paused suggestively—apprehensively.
"There's a man!" cried Grace.
"A track-walker!" cried Betty. "Oh, he'll know what to do," and she darted toward a man just appearing around the curve—a man with a sledge, and long-handled wrench over his shoulder.
"Hey! Hey!" Betty called. "Come here. There's a broken rail!"
The man broke into a run.
"What's that?" he called. "Got your foot caught in a rail? It's a frog—a switch that you mean. Take off your shoe!"
"No, we're not caught!" cried Betty, in shrill accent. "The rail is broken!"