Page:Cy Warman--The express messenger and other tales of the rail.djvu/211

Rh to gray-haired conductors and storm-faced engineers was a thing that ought not to be. Some of the swift senders tried to rush her, but it; did n't go. The great clock continued to measure off the days, trains arrived and departed on time, the "mysterious message" was still a mystery, and the girl stayed at her post. The superintendent was quietly proud of his protégée and Mr. Creamer was enthusiastic. She knew the road, he had declared to his chief, as the red man knows the forest, and the time card as Father Maloney knew the catechism. "She's just a bird, that's all," he observed to the smiling superintendent; "a reg'ler crockerjack, and. you can't tie her."

The January sun, swinging far and low in the south, sent a stingy ray aslant the window and touched the covers on the sick man's couch. He rubbed his eyes, looked about, and whispered: "Where am I?" but he was not acting. The bare white walls, the iron bedstead, the little table, and the one wooden chair told him that he was in the hospital. A vase of fresh cut roses stood upon the table, and he knew