"Never a miss!" he panted, with a good deal of satisfaction. "It couldn't come much swifter than that at any hour of the day or night. It's genuine hard work, though, and expert work, too. Well, I've made a fair beginning."
Ralph had it quite easy for an hour now. He rested in the big cane armchair on a little elevated platform directly in front of the levers. From there he had a clear view of every foot of the yards.
Some roundhouse hands, passing by, waved him a genial hail. The depot master strolled by about three o'clock, and called up to know how Knight's hand was getting on. Just after that, Ralph fancied he recognized Mort Bemis in a group of loaferish-looking fellows on the freight tracks. A call to the levers, however, distracted his attention, and when he looked again the coterie had disappeared.
"I'll have a stirring report to make to mother to-night," reflected Ralph, with pleasurable anticipation.
A short freight had just taken the far siding. Its engineer held up two fingers to Ralph. This indicated that he wanted main two. After that his crew set the unattached switches beyond themselves.
The freight was slowing up, when Ralph saw a female form come over the bumpers of two of the moving cars. She leaped to the ground as nimbly as an expert switchman.
The fireman of the freight yelled at her and shook his fist. She tossed her head in the air and proceeded across the planked passenger roadbeds, dodging a hand-car, climbing over a stationary freight, and continuing recklessly across the railroad property where outsiders were not allowed.
She was a somewhat portly, red-faced woman of about forty. She wore a hideous poke bonnet, and carried a bulging umbrella with a heavy hooked handle.
In crossing between the cars she simply reached up with this, encircled the brake-rod with the umbrella handle, and pulled herself to the bumpers.
A flagman came rushing up to her. He pointed to the painted sign on a signal post near by, warning trespassers.
Ralph watched the determined female flare up. The flagman tried to stop her. She knocked off his cap with a sweeping blow of the umbrella, and proceeded calmly on her way with the stride of some amazon.
Ralph was wondering at her temerity and mission. She was headed straight for the switch tower.
Just then the dial clicked. "Chaser" it indicated, and down the main track came a locomotive and tender at full speed.
The 'phone gave the direction: Track 11. This was a set of rails rounding beyond the blank wall of the in freight on a sharp curve.
It took one lever to set the switch from the main track, another to open the rails inside track eleven.
On the main, forty feet farther on, stood the made-up afternoon accommodation train. On No. 12 were two dead Pullmans, ready for the night express.
The levers of in main and track eleven were less than three feet apart. Ralph grasped one with each hand, to slide the main with his right and complete the switch circuit with his left.
It was an easy task, knowing just what was wanted, and a full thirty seconds to act in.
The minute that Ralph's hands struck the levers, a thrill and then a chill-strong, overpowering, and deadly-paralyzed every nerve in his body.
Every vestige of sensation left his frame-his hands, perfectly nerveless, seemed glued to the levers.
He could not detach them, strive as he might-he could not exert a single ounce of pulling power.
With a gasp Ralph saw the chaser engine dash down the rails, a hundred, eighty, seventy, fifty feet from the main switch, tender in front, so engineer and fireman, relying on the tower service, never noticed that they were headed for a tremendous crash into the made-up accommodation.
With a sickening sense of horror Ralph strove to pull the levers. Impossible!
Something was wrong! He could not move a muscle. Like one petrified he glared down at the flying locomotive, headed straight for disaster and destruction.
CHAPTER III-A CLOSE GRAZE
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Ralph's strained hearing caught these sounds vaguely. All his attention was centered on the locomotive apparently speeding to sure disaster.
The next instant, however, he became aware that in some mysterious way these noises signalized his rescue from a terrible situation.
The lever rods his hands clasped vibrated harshly. As if by magic that glue-like suction tension on his fingers was withdrawn.
His hands still burned and tingled, but a great gasp of relief left his lips. His eyes fixed on the rushing engine, his hands now pulled the levers in order.
Not six inches from taking the in main rails, not eight seconds from reducing the accommodation to a heap of kindling wood, the "chaser" shot switch eleven, and glided smoothly to the terminus. Its serene crew never dreamed how they had grazed death by a hair's breadth.
Ralph half fell between the levers. He felt that his face must be the color of chalk. His strength was entirely spent. He still grasped the levers, hanging there for a moment like a person about to faint.
Fortunately there was no call for switch-tower service during the ensuing minute or two. Ralph tried to rally his dazed senses, to comprehend what was going on below.
For again a swishing, cracking, clattering sound rang out. This time it was followed by a curdling cry of pain.
"You'll blind me-you're tearing my hair out by the roots!" screamed a voice which Ralph instantly recognized.
It belonged to Mort Bemis. Ralph began to have a coherent suspicion as to the cause of his recent helplessness.
"I'll tear twenty-six dollars out of you, or I'll have your hide!" proclaimed strident feminine tones.
"I hain't got no money."
"You'll get it for me. What, strike me with that piece of wire! You wretch, I'll-"
There was a jangling crash, as of some heavy body thrown back against the lever cables in the lower story of the switch tower.
Then its door crashed open, and glancing through the windows Ralph saw Mort Bemis dash into view.
He sped across tracks as if for his life. He was hatless, his face was streaked with red welts. From one hand trailed a piece of insulated electric light wire.
Giving a frightened backward glance as he reached a line of freights, the ex-towerman leaped the space between two cars and disappeared from view.
From the lower story of the switch tower there now issued exclamations of rage and disgust.
Ralph started to look down the ladder trap. Just then the dial called for a switch, and duty temporarily curbed his interest and curiosity. As he set clear tracks again, a head obtruded through the trapdoor.
It was that of the resolute woman Ralph had noticed a little time past so audaciously crossing the rails and defying instructions. Her face was red and heated, her eyes flashing. Her hair was in disorder, and the poke bonnet was all awry.
"Be careful-don't fall, madam," said Ralph quickly, with inborn chivalry and politeness, springing to the trap.
He put out a hand to help her. She disdained his assistance with an impatient sniff, and cleared the ladder like an expert.
"Don't trouble yourself about me, young man," she observed crisply. "I'm able to take care of myself."
"I see you are, madam."
"I've run an ore dummy in my time, when my husband was head yardman at an iron works, and I know how to climb. See here," she demanded imperatively, fixing a keen look on the young railroader, "are you boss here?"
"Why, you might say so," answered Ralph. "That is, I am in charge here."
The woman put down her umbrella to adjust her bonnet. Ralph observed that the umbrella was in tatters and the ribs all broken and twisted. He comprehended that it was with this weapon that she had just assaulted Mort Bemis.
"If