Page:Arthur Stringer - Gun Runner.djvu/336

 But try as he might, the obstacle was not to be removed. The loaded car refused to stir. One of its wheels, pocketed in a half-inch depression caused by a flattened rail-end, held it anchored to the spot. His motor, sulking and back-firing under the unnatural strain, was not strong enough for the task. And he was sorely afraid of injuring his engine and finding himself broken down and helpless on the very outskirts of De Brigard's lines. He saw that there was nothing to do but unload the flat-car where it stood.

Alicia would have helped him at that slow and dreary labour, but he pointed out to her the necessity of standing on guard while he worked. The rough-hewn sticks of logwood seemed heavy beyond belief. Some of them, which he could not lift, he had to work slowly outward and let fall from the side of the car. He also had to make sure that every log and stick fell clear of the track.

His muscles ached, his fingers seemed with out joints, his strength was gone. Twice he had to resort to heavy drafts from his brandy-flask.

But he worked on, doggedly, sullenly, arguing with himself that he ought to be grateful that he was gaining his end without being discovered, picturing what such labour would be under the fire of a dozen half-breed