Elizabeth and her brother were on the observation platform, with the Canadian, whom with some difficulty they had persuaded to share their dinner.
"I told you"--said Anderson--"that you would be passed over first." He pointed to two other trains in front that had been shunted to make room for them.
Elizabeth turned to him a little proudly.
"But I should like to say--it's not for our own sakes--not in the least!--it is for my father, that they are so polite to us."
"I know--of course I know!" was the quick response. "I have been talking to some of our staff," he went on, smiling. "They would do anything for you. Perhaps you don't understand. You are the guests of the railway. And I too belong to the railway. I am a very humble person, but--"
"You also would do anything for us?" asked Elizabeth, with her soft laugh. "How kind you all are!"
She looked charming as she said it--her face and head lit up by the line of flaring lights through which they were slowly passing. The line was crowded with dark-faced navvies, watching the passage of the train as it crept forward.
One of the officials in command leapt up on the platform of the car, and introduced himself. He was worn out with the day's labour, but triumphant. "It's all right now--but, my word! the stuff we've thrown in!--"
He and Anderson began some rapid technical talk. Slowly, they passed over the quicksand which in the morning had engulfed half a train; amid the flare of torches, and the murmur of strange speech, from the Galician and Italian labourers, who rested on their picks and stared and laughed, as they went safely by.
"How I love adventures!" cried Elizabeth, clasping her hands.