Callahan and the linemen were spreading both ways through the timber on

the plateau opposite, but the snow made the work extremely difficult,

and the short day allowed hardly more than a start. On the hill

Glover's men advanced barely a hundred feet in three hours: darkness

spread over the range with no sign of the missing man, and with the

forebodings that none could shake off of what the night's exposure,

even if he were uninjured, might mean.

Supper was served to the men in the relief trains, and outside fires

were forbidden by Glover, who asked that every foot of the track as far

as the gap be patrolled all night.

It was nearly ten o'clock when Glover, supperless, reached the car with

his dispositions made for the night. While he talked with the men,

Clem, the star cook of the Brock family, under special orders grilled a

big porterhouse steak and presently asked him back to the dining-table,

where, behind the shaded candles, Gertrude waited.

They sat down opposite each other; but not until Glover saw there were

two plates instead of one, and learned that Gertrude had eaten no

dinner because she was waiting for him, did he mutter something about

all that an American girl is capable of in the way of making a man

grateful and happy. There was nothing to hurry them back to the other

end of the car, and they did not rejoin Mr. Brock and Bucks, who were

smoking forward, until eleven o'clock. Callahan came in afterward, and

sitting together Mr. Brock and Gertrude listened while the three

railroad men planned the campaign for the next day.

Parting late, Glover said good-night and left with Callahan to inspect

the rotary. The fearful punishment of the day's work on the knives had

shown itself, and since dark, relays of mechanics from the Sleepy Cat

shops had been busy with the cutting gear, and the companion plough had

already been ordered in from the eighth district.

Glover returned to the car at one o'clock. The lights were low, and

Clem, a night-owl, fixed him in a chair near the door. For an hour

everything was very still, then Gertrude, sleeping lightly, heard

voices. Glover walked back past the compartments; she heard him asking

Clem for brandy--Bill Dancing, the lineman, had come with news.

The negro brought forward a decanter and Glover poured a gobletful for

the old man, who shook from the chill of the night air.

"The boys claim it's imagination," Dancing, steadied by the alcohol,

continued, "but it's a fire way over below the second bridge. I've

watched it for an hour; now you come."

They went away and were gone a long time. Glover returned alone--Clem

had disappeared; a girlish figure glided out of the gloom to meet him.




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