red and fifty passengers with them---many
of them state officials. Oh, Black, I wouldn't dare stand in
your shoes now! The whole state---the entire country---will unite
in running you down. You can never hope to escape the penalty
of your crime!"

"What are you talking about?" sneered Black. "Do you think I'm
fool enough to ditch the train? No, sir! Don't believe it.
I'm not running my neck into a noose of that kind. A cluster
of red lights has been spread along the track before the blow-out.
The engineer will see the signals and pull his train up---he
has to, by law! No one on the train will be hurt, but the train
simply can't get through!"

"Oh, if the train is safe, I don't care so much," replied Reade,
the color slowly returning to his face. "As for getting through
tonight, the S.B. & L. has a corps of engineers and a full staff
in other departments. Black, you'll lose after all your trouble."

"Humph!" muttered Black unbelievingly. "Your train will have
to get through in less than three hours, Reade!"

"It'll do it, somehow," smiled Tom.

"Yes; your engineers will bring it through, somehow," taunted
Black. "We have the chief of that corps with us right now."

"That's all right," retorted Tom. "You're welcome to me, if I
can be of any real comfort to you. But you forget that you haven
it my assistant. Harry Hazelton is at large, among his own friends.
Harry will see the train through tonight. Never worry."

Click-click-click-click! sounded the machine on the barrel.

"It's the division superintendent at Lineville, calling up Brewster's,"
announced the operator.

"Answer for Brewster, then," directed Black. "Let us see what the
division super wants, anyway."

More clicking followed, after which the operator explained:

"Division super asks Brewster if through train has passed there."

"Answer, 'Yes; twelve minutes ago,'" directed Black.

The instrument clicked furiously for a few moments.

"The division super keeps sending, 'Sign, sign, sign!'" explained
the operator at the barrel. "So I've kept on signing 'Br,' 'Br,'
over and over again. That's the proper signature for Brewster's."

Again the machine clicked noisily.

"Still insisting on the signature," grinned the operator uneasily.

"Do you know the name of the operator at Brewster's?" demanded
'Gene Black.

"Yes," nodded the man at the barrel. "The operator at Brewster's
is a chap named Havens."

"Then send the signat