Page:Frank Packard - On the Iron at Big Cloud.djvu/79

 night. But I heard the door open. I thought it was the caller back again, and I wondered how he'd made his rounds in such quick time. With the tumbler half up to my lips I turned around—then the glass slipped from my fingers and crashed into slivers on the floor. My mouth went dry, my heart seemed to stop. I couldn't speak, couldn't move. It was Breen—"Angel" Breen!

I saw him start at the noise of the splintering glass, but he didn't look at me. He clung swaying to the door jamb for an instant, his face chalky white, then he reeled across the room—and dropped into his old chair. I saw him glance at my watch and his face seemed to go whiter than before, then he snatched at the train sheet and a smile—no, it wasn't exactly a smile, you couldn't call it that, his whole face seemed to change, light up, and his lips moved—I know now in a prayer of gratitude. You understand, don't you? He knew the time-card, knew that Number Two, after he had seen my watch, should have been out of Coyote Bend four, perhaps five, minutes before, but the train sheet showed her still unreported. His fingers closed on the key and he began to make the Coyote Bend call. Over and over, quick, sharp, clear, incisive, with all the old masterful touch of his sending Breen was rattling the call—cc,cx—cc,cx—cc,cx—cc,cx.

And then I found my voice.

"God in Heaven, Breen!" I stammered, and started toward him. "You! What"

The sounder broke. Coyote Bend answered. And on the instant Breen flashed this order over the wire.