A slow train might
not go off the track, as the break is only a small one. But the
express--"
She paused suggestively--apprehensively.
"There's a man!" cried Grace.
"A track-walker!" cried Betty. "Oh, he'll know what to do," and she
darted toward a man just appearing around the curve--a man with a sledge,
and long-handled wrench over his shoulder.
"Hey! Hey!" Betty called. "Come here. There's a broken rail!"
The man broke into a run.
"What's that?" he called. "Got your foot caught in a rail? It's a frog--a
switch that you mean. Take off your shoe!"
"No, we're not caught!" cried Betty, in shrill accent. "The rail
is broken!"
The track-walker was near enough now to hear her correctly. And,
fortunately, he understood, which might have been expected of him,
considering his line of work.
"It's a bad break," he affirmed, as he looked at it, "Sometimes the heat
of the sun will warp a rail, and pull out the very spikes by the roots,
ladies. That's what happened here. Then a train--'twas the local from
Dunkirk--came along and split the rail. 'Tis a wonder Jimmie Flannigan
didn't see it. This is his bit of track, but his wife is sick and I said
I'd come down to meet him with a bite to eat, seein' as how she can't put
up his dinner.
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