“Stop him!” cried the shirt-sleeved man.  “He’s giving it away on the wire!”

But Donohue had signed his name and was putting on his coat.

“You’re welcome to what you can find,” he said, scowling at the interloper.  “If you kill anybody now, it’ll be your own fault.”

“Arrest that man!” said Hawk to his policemen; but Kent interposed.

“If you do, the force will be two men shy to-morrow.  The Civic League isn’t dead yet.”  And he took down the numbers of the two officers.

There were no arrests made, and when the ousted three were clear of the room and the building, Kent asked an anxious question.

“How near can they come to smashing us, M’Tosh?”

“That depends on Callahan’s nerve.  The night operators at Donerail, Schofield and Agua Caliente are all Guilford appointees, and when the new man explains the situation to them, they’ll do what they are told to do.  But I’m thinking Patsy won’t pull up for anything milder than a spiked switch.”

“Well, they might throw a switch on him.  I wonder somebody hasn’t done it before this.”

The train-master shook his head.

“If Tischer is keeping close up behind, that would jeopardize more lives than Callahan’s.  But there is another thing that doesn’t depend on nerve—­Patsy’s or anybody’s.”

“What is that?”

“Water.  The run is one hundred and eighty miles.  The 1010’s tank is good for one hundred with a train, or a possible hundred and sixty, light.  There is about one chance in a thousand that Callahan’s crown-sheet won’t get red-hot and crumple up on him in the last twenty miles.  Let’s take a car and go down to yard limits.  We can sit in the office and hear what goes over the wires, even if we can’t get a finger in to help Patsy out of his troubles.”

They boarded a Twentieth Avenue car accordingly, but when they reached the end of the line, which was just across the tracks from the junction in the lower yards, they found the yard limits office and the shops surrounded by a cordon of militia.

“By George!” said M’Tosh.  “They got quick action, didn’t they?  I suppose it’s on the ground of the strike and possible violence.”

Kent spun on his heel, heading for the electric car they had just left.

“Back to town,” he said; “unless you two want to jump the midnight Overland as it goes out and get away while you can.  If Callahan fails——­”

XXIX

THE RELENTLESS WHEELS

But Engineer Callahan had no notion of failing.  When he had drawn the hammer on his superior officer, advising discretion and a seat on Jimmy Shovel’s box, the 1010 was racking out over the switches in the Western Division yards.  Three minutes later the electric beam of Tischer’s following headlight sought and found the first section on the long tangent leading up to the high plains, and the race was in full swing.