his mind
this problem, involving the safety of numerous human beings, that would
probably become his. He had a fear of abnormal changes in the schedule.
It had been impressed upon every signalman that thirty-three was the
road's most precious responsibility. It was the only solid Pullman train
that passed over the division. This time of year it ran crowded and was
erratic; more often than not, late. That fact created few difficulties
on an ordinary night; but, combined with such uncertainty of schedule,
it worried the entire division, undoubtedly, to have running, also on an
uncertain schedule, and in the opposite direction on that single track,
an eager special carrying important men. The superintendent, of course,
would want to get those flashy trains past each other without delay to
either. That was why these lonely towers, without receiving definite
instructions yet, had been warned to increase watchfulness.

Tolliver's restlessness grew. He hoped the meeting would take place
after Joe had relieved him, or else to the north or south.

It was difficult, moreover, for him to fix his mind to-night on his
professional responsibility. His duty towards his family was so much
more compelling. While he sat here, listening to every word beaten out
by the sounder, he pictured his wife and son, alone in the little house
nearly a half a mile away. And he wondered, while he, their only
protector, was imprisoned, what Joe was up to.

Joe must have been drunk when he tried to get in the house last night.
Had he been drinking to-night?

The sounder jarred rapidly.

"LR. LR. LR."

That was for the tower to the north. It was hard to tell from Joe's
manner. Perhaps that would account for his not having called attention
to the approaching presence of the special on the division.

Pound. Pound. Pound. The hard striking of the metal had the effect of a
trip-hammer on his brain.

"Allen reports special left Oldtown at 9.45."

Joe had certainly been drinking that night last week when he had got
fresh with Sally.

"Thirty-three still losing south of Anderson."

He jotted the words down and sent his O.K.'s while his head, it seemed
to him, recoiled physically from each rapid stroke of the little brass
bar.

Sonny, sent by his mother, had come to tell him that night, panting up
the stairs, his eyes wide and excited. Tolliver had looked from the
window towards his home, his face flushed, his fists clenched, his heart
almost ch