handcar in to service. One of them ran up to the tower and made a trumpet of his hands.
"Give us the out track," he called.
"All right," answered Ralph.
"Train ditched—wrecking crew ordered out."
"Yes, I know—the wash-out at Acton," said Ralph—"the in express."
"No, the outmail—just beyond the limits."
"What!" cried Ralph in a startled tone.
He kept at the levers until he saw the handcar speed safely down the main rails. Then he ran to the telephone and called up the limits tower.
There was no action, and no response.
"That's bad," murmured Ralph—"fuse burned out. The lightning has put the 'phone out of commission. I wish I understood things straight. Two trains delayed by the wash-out. The mail ditched. Bad shape all around, this, for such a night."
Ralph wished he could run up to the dispatcher's office and get more information at the depot. This he dared not do, however. He paced up and down restlessly, wondering how serious the mishap to the mail might be.
It was precisely one o'clock when the dial hand moved with a kind of an electric tang. It circled and then shot back, as if directed by an erratic hand.
