"Right as a trivet," reported Ralph, getting to his feet. "What hit me?"
"The step of a coach, it seems," explained Forgan.
Ralph passed his hand over his head until it rested on a lump and a sore spot near one ear. It was wet and greasy where some liniment had been applied.
"The master mechanic?" he asked, with a quick memory of what had happened.
"Ankle wrenched," said Griscom. "We made him get to a surgeon on a litter. He minded nothing but you, till he was sure that you were all right."
Ralph uttered a vast sigh of relief and satisfaction. Forgan led him to his own special office armchair. Half-a-dozen crowded about him, curious for details of the accident no one of them had witnessed.
Ralph gave them the particulars as he could remember them. He asked for a drink of water, felt of the bump again with a smiling grimace, and arose to his feet.
"Same schedule, I suppose?" he inquired, starting to go outside the doghouse and inspect the bulletin board on which daily orders were posted.
"You don't mean that you are going to make your run to-day, Fairbanks?" asked the foreman.
