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Updated: May 21, 2025
Tischer had just got the word to go, and was pulling out on the yard main line. "I'll catch him with the wire at yard limits," said M'Tosh. Then: "Would you mind hurrying your people a little, Major? The express is due to leave." Guilford was a heavy man for his weight, and he waddled back to the others, waving his arms as a signal for them to board the car.
Kent was still standing at the trainmen's wicket when Callahan sent the private car gently up to the trackhead of track eight. M'Tosh had been telephoning again, and the receiver and his party were on the way to the station. "I was afraid you'd have to let the express go first," said Kent, when the train-master came his way again. "How much time have we?"
"Haven't thim bloody fools in the up-town office anything betther to do than to tie that sivinty-ton ball-an'-chain to my leg such a night as this?" This is not what Callahan said: it is merely a printable paraphrase of his rejoinder. M'Tosh shook his head.
It was Ormsby's message from Breezeland; and while Kent was trying to grasp the tremendous import of it, M'Tosh was giving Callahan the signal to go. Kent sprang past the gate-keeper and gave the square of damp paper to the train-master. "My God! read that!" he gasped, with a dry sob of excitement. "It was our chance one chance in a million and we've lost it!" M'Tosh was a man for a crisis.
"He's wit' himself, as a master-mechanic shu'd be," said Callahan. "So's M'Tosh. But nayther wan n'r t'other av thim'll take a thrain out whin the strike's on. They're both Loring min." At the mention of Loring's name Griggs looked up from the stick he was whittling. "No prospects o' the Boston folks getting the road back again, I reckon," he remarked tentatively.
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