“Did you get that part of the message, Billy?” asked Hugh gravely.
“We’re going to be shut up here in Lawrence, seems like, and marooned.” answered the other. “Gosh! It does take the cake what queer things happen to you and me, Hugh. Of all the times we might have taken to come over here, we hit on the one great day Lawrence has ever known. Looks like we’re in the soup.”
“As long as we manage to keep from being in the flood we shouldn’t complain, I take it,” the patrol leader suggested.
“Where’s he’s gone to, do you reckon, Hugh?”
“The agent?” queried the second lad. “Outside, to write some sort of notice on the bulletin board where they announce whether trains are on time or not.”
“Let’s go and see,” suggested Billy.
They found that Hugh had hit the right nail on the head when he hazarded that opinion, for the agent was just finishing some sort of notice, using a piece of chalk to write it. Several other people came hurrying over to learn what it might be, so that the nucleus of a crowd quickly gathered there.
Just as the boys expected, after having picked up the shreds of information from the sounder inside the ticket office, it was an announcement that was destined to add considerable gloom to the already sinking hearts of those who lived in and around Lawrence, the isolated little flood city.
“Owing to serious washouts above and below Lawrence, all train service has had to be abandoned until further notice!”
“That settles it,” said Billy, rubbing his chin with thumb and forefinger in a way he had when pondering over anything. “We’re in it up to our necks.”