They neared Tyrone. Jimmy watched the lights draw near. The driver began to slacken his speed. They reached the fringes of the town. Close at hand Jimmy heard a long, shrill blast of a locomotive whistle. He knew it was a train blowing for Tyrone. It was going to stop. He glanced at his watch. It lacked two minutes of being 11:45.
“Step on it,” begged Jimmy. “That’s the train I must catch.”
The driver turned a corner and straightened out for a dash. He shoved his speed up and up while Jimmy sat with his heart in his mouth. They could never stop if anything came out of a side street.
But nothing did. They roared on to the station. The train was standing at the platform. The locomotive was panting restlessly, as though eager to be off.
“All aboard,” came a deep voice through the night.
Jimmy leaped from the still moving car, and raced down the platform toward the train. The train began to move. Jimmy put everything he had into a last desperate sprint. He reached the car vestibule just as the conductor was closing the door. Jimmy grabbed the hand rail and swung up on the step. The conductor slammed the door open and grabbed him.
“Is the—assistant secretary—of war—on this train?” panted Jimmy.
“He is,” said the conductor.
CHAPTER XVI
The Bootlegger Repays Jimmy’s Kindness