riedly and put it out of sight, for somehow it seemed to say a good
many nasty things between the words.

I wired Crawford that I was ready to start and waiting for the special,
and then I fumed and continued my bullying of the man in the office; he
was not to blame for anything, of course, but it was a tremendous relief
to take it out of somebody just then.

The special came, on time to a second, and I swung on and told the
conductor to put her through for all she was worth--but he had already got
his instructions as to speed, I fancy; we ripped down the track a mile a
minute--and it wasn't long till we bettered that more than I'd have
believed possible. The superintendent's car had been given over to me,
I learned from the porter, and would carry me to Ogden, where dad's own
car, the _Shasta_, would meet me. There, too, I saw the hand of Crawford;
it was not like dad or him to borrow anything unless the necessity was
absolute.

I hope I may never be compelled to take another such journey. Not that
I was nervous at the killing pace we went--and it was certainly
hair-raising, in places; but every curve that we whipped around on two
wheels--approximately--told me that dad was in desperate case indeed, and
that Crawford was oiling every joint with gold to get me there in time. At
every division the crack engine of the shops was coupled on in seconds,
rather than minutes, bellowed its challenge to all previous records, and
scuttled away to the west; a new conductor swung up the steps and answered
patiently the questions I hurled at him, and courteously passed over the
invectives when I felt that we were crawling at a snail's pace and wanted
him to hurry a bit.

At Ogden I hustled into the _Shasta_ and felt a grain of comfort in its
familiar atmosphere, and a sense of companionship in the solemn face of
Cromwell Jones, our porter. I had taken many a jaunt in the old car, with
Crom, and Rankin, and Tony, the best cook that ever fed a hungry man, and
it seemed like coming home just to throw myself into my pet chair again,
with Crom to fetch me something cold and fizzy.

From him I learned that it was pneumonia, and that if I got there in time
it would be considered a miracle of speed and a triumph of faultless
railroad system. If I had been tempted to take my ease and to sleep a bit,
that settled it for me. The _Shasta_ had no more power to lull my fears or
to minister to my comfort. I refused to be satisfied with less th