began to flit in its vicinity. Above the raging tumult of the storm, vague shouts reached Ralph's ear.
A brakeman, carrying a lantern, came rushing towards him.
"What has happened?" asked Ralph faintly.
"Towerman?" queried the brakeman sharply, flashing the lantern in Ralph's face. "Only a shake-up at my end. What's ahead, I don't know. Nothing coming behind?"
"No—get me word how bad the smash-up is, will you?" and, recalled to his duty by the brakeman's appearance, Ralph hurried back to the tower.
He closed the switch on track 6. Then, somewhat faint and badly worried, he sank into the armchair. Nothing was due on regular schedule. The express was reported stalled. Still, so many strange mix-ups had occurred during the night, that Ralph watched the dial, on the keen edge of suspense and distraction.
"Hello!" he cried finally, and started to his feet in wonder.
The dial disc transfixed his glance. It had begun to work. Within thirty seconds it indicated as many varied orders. It scheduled freights, passengers, "chasers." It called for one switch after another.
